Bittersweet Candy Bowl Forums

So, on the old forums, one of the first topics we had was about all the dramas and troubles that people had faced and overcome. It was about sharing the adversities that had made us stronger, and about voicing those that we had yet to make our way through. It is a thread that I wish to revive, as I think it was something that brought the community together, and I like to think that it helped some people.

So share your stories of drama. Of the bad things that you've been through. What got you through those times? How have you grown?

For those who are interested, I'll link the old thread to save everybody the trouble of having to re-tell their tails if they had already shared previously.

Defining Moments Of Drama In Your Life

Ah, this is an old revival.

well, I have 2 moments of drama:

The first one was when I was like 6 years old, my dad picked me up at school, he didn't say anything, when finally arrived, my sister and my mom were crying looking down at the pool, and I went to see what happend, it turns out the pool was dry and our dog was dead inside of it, our other dog killed her.

It was pretty bad considering my age and the fact she gave birth 7 puppies a few days before that.

The second one was when I was 10 years old (this is the worst one), my mom walked me home from school, she stayed in the kitchen, my sis was crying in the sofa, my dad was at work, I asked her what was going on, she told to as mom, so I did, and she said "ask your when he arrives". Like 10 minutes later he's home, I ask him but he doesn't want to tell me, my mom argues with, and he finally tells me...

They broke up.

It wasn't nice, my dad practically forgot about my sis and I, he didn't care.
2 weeks later, mi dad moves out to an apartment, a year later we moved to another city 700 km away.
My sis was 14 when this happened, it was harder for her, I was a kid, I adapted fast to the situation.

Wanna know WHY they broke up? my dad thought he fell in love with a whore (sorry for the word), after my parents broke up and he had little money, the before named hoe, left him. Now, he learned his lesson, he's alone, I have forgiven him for what happened, my sister did too, it has been 7 years. I didn't stop loving him, but back then they talked bad about each other, I was really confused. When we moved all my problems were left behind and, sadly, mos of my friends.

Well, I think that's all.

Zorzhen, that truly is horrible. I remember when my dog died, it truly is a painful experience, even more so when you're at that age. And as for the divorce, it always disgusts me to see a father act that way towards his children. Such a sick thing to do. I mean, I couldn't act that way to a random child, let alone my own. I'm sorry he did that to you.


I have had various things in my life that I suppose would suffice, but I will share this one. If I'm correct, I've only shared it on one other occasion, but not in such detail.

Hmm, while some of the memories are somewhat blurry, I’ll do my best to recall one of the most painful moments of my life. This was back when I lived in a place called Bithlo. Bithlo is infamous in central Florida (and possibly in other parts) for being overrun with rednecks. Of course these weren’t your typical Country listening, Neo-Nazi cousin types. They were more of your blur-collar, beer drinking, not working on Friday, crowd.
I could go on forever about the way Bithlo was, but I’ll choose not too, since that wouldn’t be completely and directly relevant to story. I will say that generally, you couldn’t trust a soul there. They were all liar, back-stabbing, drug hooked fucks. When I first moved there drugs weren’t that big of an issue. Sure, there was your typical drinking and smoking, but really in terms of illegal’s, the only two things you found were weed and Mexicans.
As for the story, I remember one day I was sitting inside of our little trailer, in the living room, watching TV. My mom’s now Ex-Boyfriend, Zane, was sitting on the couch. I can’t remember if they had fought the night before or not, I don’t believe they had. All I know is that he was seriously hung over, and he had a beer in his hand. The thing about this guy was that generally, he was alright when he was drinking. He was a monster, in more ways than one, when he was hung over and buzzed, completely smashed, or doing crack.

I’m not sure if he had done crack at some point in the day, since at the time I didn’t even know he did it. My mom hid that from me, like too many other disturbing things. All I know is that he began to be an asshole. I could feel my heart sink whenever he started being a dick because I knew what was coming. No sleep, yelling and screaming, and fearing for both my, as well as my mothers, lives.
As I said before, the memories are somewhat blurry, so all I remember was him starting to get angry, and I started to get angry as well. For years I had been subjected to the displeasure of listening to him yell and scream and threaten. This caused a change within me. I swear to this day the first time I yelled at my mother, it was a product of his malevolent nature, his seed of filth, growing within me and bursting from the seams. Slowly, I was beginning to get angrier (over the long term) and I knew I was growing to the point of doing or saying something that could very well get me beaten or even killed.
In this particular occasion though, I was not quite at that point (thank the Christian God), so I just left. I went to walk around the trailer park, maybe find a friend to hang out with. When I returned an hour or two later, my fears had come to fruition. They were yelling and screaming at each other. The trailer was occupied with nothing but screaming and banging noises.

I decided to leave again. I was tired, very tired. I didn’t want to hear it anymore, and I didn’t want to live in fear any longer. As the hours went on, the situation grew worse. Zane finally went to his friend’s house (in the trailer park (he walked)) and I went home. I talked to my mom, not sure about what, and then went into my room, fearing his return. Suddenly, the inevitable happened, I heard the front door open. I prayed he had calmed down, or that at least he would soon leave, but he didn’t. They began to argue.

Thinking back, I can’t help but wonder if he had done some crack. It seemed far more likely that he was under the influence of such then as opposed to earlier. Regardless, I didn’t suspect it at the time, since I knew nothing of the drug problem beyond chronic alcoholism in Bithlo.
I remember in this particular instance I felt braver than usual. As I had said, constant exposure to his screaming has changed me; I was beginning to take a dark path, one that would most likely end in drugs and death. I don’t remember exactly what happened to lead up to the event I’m about to elaborate upon; I only remember the general basis of it. The things that happened every time; a lot of screaming, a lot of cursing, and a lot of banging. Each bang I wondered if he had struck my mom, each silence I wondered if he had strangled her (since I had heard him do it in past events) or killed her.
At some point, my door has gotten kicked or hit open on accident, although I was surely not the target. At this point, I was crying. You have to understand that the fact I hadn’t been crying up to that point was an achievement for me, since I was a 12 year old momma’s boy. I remember them going back and forth in the hallway, screaming at each other. At some point, my mom was lying on the floor of the hallway, directly out of my room. Zane was on top of her, pinning her down.
I remember my mom being both submissive and strong at some points, but now, she was strong. She didn’t seem to be giving up. She kept struggling against him, since she has been abused before, and was no stranger to it. He treated her like an animal, speaking down to her, saying he was better than her. Finally, she spat in his face. I remember laughing, just for a moment. Even in extreme fear and in tears, I laughed. I hated him so much it transcended fear.
Of course, I quickly stopped laughing. I stopped when I saw him bring his hand back and slap her across the face. It was the first time I had ever seen him hit my mom. The first time I had even seen my mom be hit. She had always seemed so fragile to me, although she was also a beacon of light. I remember silence. I was flat out sobbing at this point. I remember I looked up at the saw blade hanging on my wall (just a decoration, but a real saw blade), and I wanted to take it and shove it in his back. And if it wasn’t for the fear, I would have done it. I would have done it in a second.

There were a lot of other thoughts going through my head as well. They were all familiar. Thoughts saying I needed to kill him or he would kill us, thoughts (or prayers) that someone would come in and stop it (as if anyone cared enough to fuck with a lunatic like Zane)… Zane got off of her, and they both stood up. I remember my mom grabbing some things as Zane threatened to kill her, screaming at her. She ignored him and told him to fuck off. Her confidence seemed to fill me with confidence.

The moment I had seen that slap something in me changed. Unlike the previous experiences of changing, this was drastic. It was a sudden switch in my body. What I didn’t realize at the time was something in my mom changed as well. She was done. She no longer had any desire for men, nor did she want a relationship.
I remember her taking my hand as we left. She was afraid as we made our way to the nearby convenience store that Zane would get us. Luckily, he didn’t. We called the cops, and then we left. We moved into one of my mom’s friends. So many terrible events with that man, but that was the worst. It was also the last. Although I did have the displeasure of seeing him again, they were over. And it was the last argument I would have to see.
There was a lot my mom had hidden from me such as abuse in the domestic and sexual forms. There were also things such as the fact that people hated Zane so much, drug dealers had come up to her and offered to kill him, just to do it. I didn’t know any of this.
My revelation.

I’m not going to be overly positive and say that it was all worth it, to say it helped me, but I do think I was able to get something out of it all. I gained a greater understanding of the way the world worked. I also understood drugs and their effects much better. Even more important, I understood pain far more. I don’t know where I would be if I hadn’t been exposed to what I was, or how I would be. I often wonder if things would be better or worse, since I credit my unique brand of thinking somewhat to him.

All in all, I suppose it doesn’t matter, since it happened and nothing can undo that. I don’t fully know if I can help reverse some of the psychological damage that was done to me with that man, but I pray I can.

This post has been edited by SuitCase: 11 April 2011 - 04:09 PM
Reason for edit: misused spoiler tag

God Meowth, that's horrible, if I was you, I think I wouldn't got over it, you're strong!
That Zane It's a Dick with capital "D", we should hunt him down and shove a house up his ass

I can tell you, my sis had it worst than me, she stayed with him, I went with my mom, and I think in adolescence those things hit harder. I was just a kid, now I'm a lot better ^_^, and I keep visiting him

I'm glad to hear you were able to salvage some kind of relationship with your father. I know that divorce and the like can be really crippling to certain people, but I'm glad you were alright. Granted, it's also unfortunate to hear your sister had a hard time.

@Mav
I just read what you posted in the old forum, and I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm sure that even hearing about a friends death must be horrible, but to watch one pass in your arms... Not a thought I even want to consider.

This post has been edited by Meowth: 10 April 2011 - 06:49 AM

It's a pretty painful memory, and certainly something that helped shape who I am today. But I feel like I'm stronger for it honestly. Or, at least, that's how I like to look at it. But thank you for your sympathies all the same

@ZorZhen
Parental separations are pretty upsetting. Especially violent ones. I can sympathies. Also, I feel sorry for the loss of your pet. I find it hard to get overly emotional about the death of a pet anymore though, as I've had and lost so many that it's somewhat become a part of life for me. Cars hitting them... Poisonous wildlife killing them...

The worst was probably when my next door neighbors two German shepherd used to keep getting into our yard. We had a mini foxie/jack rustle terrier, and they used to chase him around a lot. One day, I come out to find him laying on his side, struggling to breath, with the neighbors dogs standing over him. They had played so roughly with him, that they'd shattered his ribs, and punctured his lungs. He quietly drowned to death in his own blood while I tried to comfort him in his last few minutes, not really knowing what to do, or how serious the damage was at the time.

It was far from my first pet death, and by this point I was about 14 or 15... But it still really struck me. Especially when my 4 or 5 year old brother found out. It WAS his first pet death, and it crushed him

Another horrible story, Mav. Losing pet is one of those horrible things that even some of the luckiest of us have had to go through. I suppose there isn't much more I can say except I'm sorry you had to go through that. The same for your brother.

My dog (a black miniature schnauzer named Maggie) had anemia and was getting progressively weaker every day. We took her to the vet and they did everything they could, but she couldn't be saved. On her last day before putting her down, my family and I went in to say goodbye and the vet talked about the procedure that would let her slip away painlessly (basically an overdose of anesthesia). He asked if any of us were willing to stay in the room with her while he administered the drug. Everyone left except my mom and me. My mom was bawling during the whole thing while I held the dog and comforted her. It really is an indescribable feeling to hold your pet in your arms and feel its heart slowly cease beating. Once all was said and done and I got out to my car, it all hit me and I cried for about 5 minutes before I felt that I could start driving without breaking down again.

I suppose this isn't a "moment" of drama per se, so much as it is a lifetime's worth of drama, but what the heck? Also, keep in mind I really don't remember much of this, so the chronology is likely off.

When I was little, I didn't have many friends. I only had two, in fact, so in order to be happy, I buried myself in academics, which I was really good at. The teachers always talked about what a "wonderful kid" I was, and how I was a "pleasure" to have in class. And yet, I didn't fit in. I couldn't go ten seconds without fidgeting or humming, or tapping my fingers, and it annoyed people around me. I was picked on and made fun of, and I hated the fact that I couldn't sit still. I hated being made fun of, and I hated the fact that I was always getting sick with a cold or strep throat. This had been since I was an infant, so I was kind of used to it, but I was still really unhappy. My mom KNEW something was wrong, and took me to all sorts of doctors, and they all shrugged and said "I dunno. Not my problem!"

I couldn't eat certain foods or I'd get sick, and I had to eat every two hours, or I'd flip out and start yelling and screaming, and I wouldn't be able to help it. That said, third grade was pretty sweet. I had the best teacher ever, who was always saying that I was her favorite, and that she adored having me in her class, and that I would go on to great things. When I found out I could have her for fourth grade again, I jumped at the chance for it.

In retrospect, that was not a good idea.

It was at the start of fourth grade that I noticed I always had a headache, and that my joints always ached too. I started losing interest in things I had loved doing, like video games and seeing friends because they were, in my own words, "boring." The humming and fidgeting grew, and grew, and grew, until eventually nobody wanted to be my friend.

November 17th, 2004 - that was the day shit got worse. I woke up and asked to stay home, because I had a headache again. My mom didn't really think I was sick, but she let both me and my brother stay home, thinking she'd send us in tomorrow. We had pizza for lunch, and then started to set up a game of Monopoly. I was humming and fidgeting like crazy, and I couldn't help it. Before I knew what I was doing, I threw the game board over, leaving my mom and brother stupefied - I had NEVER done anything like that before. I didn't even know what was going on. and then, I started yelling, and screaming, and I tried to hit my brother. I was shocked - what was I doing? I couldn't stop, and I went on like this for an hour. At wit's end, my mom and brother shove me in the car, and drive me over to our pediatrician. He took one look at me and said "I'm calling the emergency room." So we go, and when we get in, EVERYBODY stops to look at this crazy, creepy batshit nine-year-old.

"Is he autistic?" the nurse asked us.

I felt like shit.

The doctors restrained me, and gave me benedryl, hoping I'd get sleepy enough I'd stop. Within minutes, I had calmed down, and was in tears - what had just happened? What had I DONE?"


I was taken to several doctors, and diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome. I went in to school again, and flipped out. My teacher - my wonderful, perfect, flawless favorite teacher - took me aside at dismissal and said "Listen, I know you have TS, and I know you're going through I hard time" - I will ALWAYS remember this next part of our exchange, because it will always haunt me -"but I KNOW you were making that up, and trying to push the limits of what you can do. That was NOT your TS. My cousin has Tourette's, and I KNOW what it looks like."

I wanted to cry. I told my mom about it when I got home. She was horrified as well, and sent me in with a letter to her, explaining that yes, I really WAS sick, and NO, I was not making it up, so don't say otherwise. I gave the letter to her, and within moments, her face filled with rage. She took me outside the room, and nearly yelled at me "I NEVER said you were making your Tourette's up! I can't believe you would tell your mom that!"


I didn't go into school for the rest of the year.


Fifth grade came. I was there for all of five weeks, before we learned the administrators were building up a case to throw me out of the school, and send me to a state program for kids with TS - one where, if you "misbehaved" (read, ticced), you were shut in a padded room as "punishment."


Yeah. I didn't go in for the rest of fifth grade either. I spend most of my time in doctors' offices, and bar that, at home, either ticcing, or in bed, asleep. All this time, we KNEW it was something physical, something immunological - why else would benedryl help like it did, why else did the things that set me off set me off - but nobody would take us seriously.

But then, we had a lucky break - or so we thought. We got in to see Doctor Barbara Coffee the middle of fifth grade - supposedly the best in the country. She wasn't. Was he ticcing? Give him abilify! Was he not able to sleep? Give him abilify? How could we make me better? Abilify! We wasted a year on her.

The summer between six and seventh grades, we FINALLY got somewhere. It turned out, I couldn't have wheat! Or gluten at all, for that matter! We took those out of my diet, and I my ticcing decreased dramatically. I could function again, right?


WRONG. I still couldn't get within five feet of the middle school without ticcing. What could I do? My mom decided to take me to an immunologist. I was ticcing very badly that day, and she took one look at me, and decided she wanted nothing to do with me. She took my blood, and never gave us the results back. Sometime during seventh grade, however, we got into see a GI specialist, who diagnosed me with celiac - we didn't do a proper test however, as I had been on a gluten-free diet for six months at that point, and thus the test wouldn't work right. We DID, however, find out I have a genetic marker for the illness.

It gets better, though. She took one look at my blood count and said to me and my mom "You have Rheumatoid Arthritis."

We got into see a rheumatoligist, who put me on meds for it. For the first time in years, I didn't have a headache! I could function, right?

WRONG. I still ticced like crazy. What do to?


Then came eighth grade. Now, our middle school was infamous for having mold problems. There was a crawlspace above the gym, and rainwater got stuck in there, so mold grew. The FIRST thing we did sixth grade, we got me tested for a mold allergy.


Negative - I didn't have one. Or so we thought.

When we found I still couldn't go to school, we decided something had to be done. In desperation, my mom took me to an allergist - Morton Teich. Give him business if you can - this man saved me life.

Turns out, I had a yeast infection, all these years. In my intestines! That caused SO MUCH! We started treating that, and I was approaching normal! I could function, right?


Er, not quite. I still couldn't go to the middle school, so we decided to homeschool me for that last year while everything got sorted out.


Freshman year of highschool. The first year in six years I was in school on a regular basis. It wasn't perfect, but I still was there for seven out of ten months. But by this point, I essentially had to go from being nine to fourteen. I had NO clue how to act. I had no social skills, and knew nobody, and on top of that, I was PISSED at the world for having to go through this, and I thought it was an ugly, disgusting place. I was seeing a shrink, and though I really liked her, and I was getting less and less angry, I still had shit going in my head.

This culminated last November. I won't go into detail about it, but I did some awful things to myself, and I ended up in the hospital for a week.

When I got out, I swore not to tell anybody what I did - I had the stomach flu, and that's why I was in the hospital.



Also, it turns out I don't have celiac, but that its symptoms were simulated by my body because of the yeast infection, and that my yeast infection was in part because of a cortisol insufficiency. I'm on hydrocortizone now.

This post has been edited by Smash Genesis: 27 March 2012 - 05:24 PM
Reason for edit: misused spoiler tag

@Kapitan

I'm very sorry you had to go through that. I've lost two animals over my life, but on neither occasion did I actually witness the death. That must have been heart breaking.

@Smash
There is little I can say except I offer my deepest condolences. It sounds as though you truly had a difficult (to say the last) childhood. While it is truly unfortunate you had to go through the things you did, I'm very glad you were able to overcome both the physical and mental problems plaguing and come out on top in the end. You're young, but you've experienced enough pain to occupy a life time.

@Smash
Man, i'm so glad you've found a solution, that will hopefully keep working That's just the best thing ^^ Karma better have some good stuff set in store for you! (I hope it's awesome )
@Meowth
Eesh... That's rough... I guess there's not much I can say... but, *hug* and you write awesome fanfiction


So, uh my turn, it won't seem as... I dunno... important as yours? But it was something that affected me...

Oh my god, Lumi, that must have been terrifying! I'm sorry it didn't work out, but I'm glad you guys are close again. It sounds like you two are really good too each other.

You guys are lucky not to be in an insane asylumn.

Just sayin'.

Most of the dramatic stories I have didn't happen to me, but to the people around me. This one's really recent.

When I was 7 or so, I saw my aunt with a guy named Zeddy (I figured they were dating or something). He was my favorite person. Ever. My Pokemon Crystal was filled with pokemon Zed/Zeddy/some other form of his name. Then one day, I couldn't find my mom. I walked into my parents' room, and saw my mom crying over the tub. I asked her what was wrong, and she didn't answer for a few minutes. Then she told me that Zeddy was dead. I thought he had died in a car crash (I'm not sure if this was something I made up for myself or something my parents told me to hide the truth of his death).
Years later, (just a few days ago), I was sitting with my friend in the library after school. I wouldn't really call him my “friend,” because I don't really like him. He follows me around all the time though, because he doesn't have anyone else to talk to. He's always complaining about how his parents hate him and “that's why I can't turn in my homework” or “that's why I don't have my uniform today,” and I just got really annoyed and dismissed this as him not being able to man up and say “yeah I'm lazy and I screwed up.” But here we were, in the library, and he's complaining about how his parents keep ignoring his phone calls, and how he “can't wait to go home so my parents can tell me how much they hate me.” I interrupted and asked him if he could get out a sheet he had that I had lost. He goes to his backpack, but then he starts talking again. “I feel so angry and depressed/ I'm so stressed/ I don't eat at home and my parents don't give me enough food.” I told him to go see one of the school's councilors. “Nobody wants me. I asked, but they never followed up or helped me.” I told him to ask again. “I tried. I really don't even want them to help me.” I asked why not. That's when he says: “I don't want my dad to go to jail.” That stopped me for a moment, because that was to crazy to be a random bullshit excuse. Then I realize just HOW LONG he's been complaining for. This didn't start this year. He said his dad had beat him in the fifth grade. He complained about how his dad yelled at him “for not being the perfect child he wanted” and how he had given up on educating his dyslexic younger brother and was planning to pull him out of school. He'd been saying this stuff for over five years.
I half listen to him for the next thirty minutes until he has to go home, then I pull out my laptop. My school has a service where you can anonymously report bullying and stuff. We usually make fun of it, but I remembered seeing “family problems” in the problem box. I sent a message to one of the councilors saying that he was depressed and needed serious help. I reported his parents for child abuse and explained the situation in detail. I sent the message and immediately got an auto reply (because it was after school hours). I went home and did my usual crap, but the whole time I was thinking about what I had done. Accusing my friends parents of child abuse was big. That was really fucking big, and it could change his life. I was worried I had screwed something up, but I didn't say anything.
At ~11:20 I was on the IRC when my mom walked upstairs and said goodnight. I sat there for a moment but ran and caught her as she was going down the stairs. I told her what had happened and what I did.
She paused for a moment, sat me down on the stairs, and said, “There's a reason you haven't met my biological mother.” I am not actually sure how many mothers my mom has had. I know it is 3+ though, and she has hated all of them. [My grandfather is too fucking sick of divorces to divorce his current wife, even though she is an alcoholic who has tried to kill him with a knife before]. She then goes on to explain that her mother severely abused her and her two sisters, one being the aunt that was with Zeddy. This aunt was ten years younger than my mother and the other sister, so they had moved out of the house by the time she was in high school. My mother came home one day, to find her younger sister (the one still in high school) getting ready for the Valentine's Day dance. Suddenly her mother just flips out and starts screaming at my mom's sister. My mom stood there for a while, and suddenly realized that her mother was a psychopath. And she was never going to fucking stop. My mom left the house and called Child Protection Services on her own mother. My aunt and her brother were removed from the household and kept somewhere else for a while, but eventually were returned to their mother. This part shocked me. I never knew my mother had a younger brother. That's when my mom revealed to me that Zeddy, (who was actually her younger brother), had been so fed up with their mother that he committed suicide before he graduated from high school. My mom said she had felt horrible, like if she had just tried to get rid of her mother sooner, she could have stopped it from happening, and he'd still be alive.
She told me that even if my friend was pissed off I had called the authorities onto his parents now, he'd thank me later, and I might have saved his life.
This was three days ago. The councilor still hasn't responded to my message, and my friend is still depressed. My biological grandmother is still alive and, as far as I am aware, has never spent a day in jail.

OTHER DRAMATIC THINGS:
In the past week and a half, I have had three birds die. Two were parakeets, and the third, who died last night without warning, was a mourning dove we had found lying in someone's driveway four days ago on the way home from school, and had tried to save. He looked like he was getting better, but last night we got back from renting a movie and found him dead in the bottom of the cage that I had spent two hours getting out of storage.


Sorry if it doesn't make much sense, I just typed this up into a Word Document five minutes ago and haven't really read through it again

This post has been edited by SuitCase: 11 April 2011 - 04:10 PM
Reason for edit: misused spoiler tag

That's pretty crazy. A damn shame about Zed.

I am mildly confused as to why people are using the spoiler tag. If you guys are hiding your traumas from unwanting eyes reading it, it would be their own fault for clicking this topic in the first place.

Maybe it's for neatness' sake?

It would be an eyesore if the page was just a nonstop wall o' text.

Taeshi, on 11 April 2011 - 03:44 AM, said:

Quote

Smash Genesis, I kinda understand where you're coming from regarding undiagnosed/misdiagnosed illnesses. I had headaches and stomach problems off and on for about 10 years, before I finally figured out it was most likely due to chronic dehydration. Needless to say, I'm drinking more water now.

Meowth I think yours is kind of fair enough and you explained it, but now everyone is doing it. For no raisin. That's where my confusion lies, it's not really with you.

@Lumina

That is horrible. Has he sought out help for his mental issues? I think it's worth saying you're not (just) dealing with Manic-Depressive disorder, but it sounds as though it could also be schizophrenia.

@Mallow
It truly is disturbing to hear stories like that and I'm sorry your mom had to go through that. I also hope your friend gets help, but it's also true that sometimes school counselors aren't as helpful as they should be.

Oh, and I'm so sorry you lost so many pets... I mean losing a pet is hard enough, but three... Jesus.

@Taeshi

Well it doesn't really matter now since the posts were edited because they didn't meet Suit's high standards for posts, but I'll respond anyway.

Quote

I don't know about you, but my eyes are starting to hurt.

So, like, guys, remember that time Susan has to live with drama her whole life because she was like totally born in the wrong body and has to live with never being truly female? Yep, my life is just one big ball of drama. Why don't I start at the beginning to sum things up?

First off, my parents are a big part.

My father is a motorcycle gang member by the name of 'Animal' and disabled, much like my mother who does not do anything... also 'disabled'. I put disabled in quotation marks there because apparently some heart problems equate to her being unable to move from a sofa and calling me every five seconds to come over and get her water or some other frivolity since she does not want to move.

As you may expect neither of my parents understand my transgender issues and neither of them want to support me. My father has also hit me many times on occasion, more recently punching me in the gut and knocking the wind out of me, threatening to break my jaw if I got up off of the floor. Oh, but that's not where my fun family ends. Oh no, my godbrother raped me when I was a young child in like first grade.

I always went to his mother's house when I was younger because my mother worked and never had time to get me to school. My godbrother, Danny, was always there with my godmother, who would take naps on the sofa all the time while I 'played' video games with her son. It was nice how he would teach me how to play the game, sit me on his lap... oh, and then he'd undo his fly and whip out his penis, pressing me against it as I played the game. He'd then undo my fly and try to toy around with me (and nothing happened on my end, thank God) while bouncing me up and down. Then, when the game was over, he would try and force me to give him oral sex down there on the floor.

I told my mother. I told my godfather. None of them believed me because the bastard still walks free today. I see him at every family get-together, every time I go to their house for Christmas or Thanksgiving, and every time I go to one of his birthday parties. He's always there, and he and my family always acts as if nothing ever happened. I am glad to know I mean so much to them. (I have told this story before, but this is what really happened. I was far to embarrassed to say what exactly transpired, so if anyone has any inconsistencies, I'm sorry.)

But now aside from that I am presented with the wonderful challenge of not being biologically female. Meowth expressed interest in knowing what it's like, so here's a summary: You look at your body and you become disgusted. It isn't yours, you don't know why it's there and even looking in the mirror makes you turn your head in shame. I am lucky, my voice is at least somewhat feminine. If it wasn't, I'd be worse off... then comes physical attraction. Yeah, I like men, but it's damned hard for me to be romantic with them. Why? Because I hate my body. I feel uncomfortable and I question why they would be attracted to me anyway. This is not my body and I find myself to be horribly disgusting... the notion of getting intimate with someone like this is something that terrifies me so much that I don't want to do it.

Then I have to deal with the future: SRS is expensive and what if it doesn't make me happier? Can I live with not being the gender I want to be and settle for what medicine can give to me? Will I ever actually find love or will people be too scared of what I am to want to give me a chance? The scariest part is knowing that you're not biologically female. That you're basically living a lie in a manmade body that should be what you were originally born with and the amount of hate that comes with that. All I can hope for is that I will look somewhat like a woman by the time surgery is done.

See my post.

Susan, on 12 April 2011 - 05:09 AM, said:

Well Susan, it's a tragedy when your own home (yet alone your own body!), doesn't comfort one's self and mind. My fullest support for your future, and that in time we'll all find happiness in what ever form it comes in. I hope everything runs smoothly with the surgery and the pain staking steps to it. Just imagine, if it wasn't for Kinsey, our world would be extremely different in terms of logic and social issues.

@Susan: Damn, I can't even begin to relate to your situation. All I can say is that I'm amazed that you've gotten through all of that. I know you're still displeased with where you're at, but you've got plenty of time to get your life where you want it. Don't fear the future, just take control as soon as you can and live the way you want to. Easy to say that, granted, but if you've made it through what you've gone through, I think you can handle whatever life throws at you. Also, tell Danny I'm going to find him one day and rip his balls off.



As far as myself, fuck it, I can hardly even post in this thread. The drama I've been through has been pretty far removed from me, personally.

Honestly the most personal drama I've been through was probably the other night when I finally had to get physically violent with my brother to stop him from driving drunk (he's already had a DUI where he hit a cop car, one would figure that he's fucked up enough with alcohol). I've never punched someone I love in the face before. But even that wasn't that intense - we've already made amends and he seems to be taking the whole thing more seriously. Still kinda shitty that I'm helping to plan an intervention for my own brother who I've looked up to all my life.

Aside from that, I can only think of one other situation that really put me off kilter for a while. Last year I was dating this girl who is one year behind me in the same program at Tech. We flirted for a while and did the typical falling-for-each-other-but-trying-to-play-it-cool act before I finally gave in and opened up to her on valentines day and we started dating (super corny yeah deal with it). Anyways, long story short, she calls me one night a few months into the relationship saying how she misses me really badly and she really wanted to see me and I should come over to her place immediately. I get there and she basically jumps me, you can guess where we went from there. At the end of it, she's staring me in the face with this weird look, and she asks me if I really care about her. She says it in this tone that makes it seem like she didn't believe me every other time I'd said I loved her, which really caught me off guard. I reassured her that I really did truly care about her deeply, and she breaks down sobbing in my arms. She told me that she had been at a party that night and some guy had grabbed her, pulled her into a room and tried to make her have sex with him. She punched him in the stomach and left, but it brought back a memory she had never told anyone. When she was a freshman in high school (14), she went to hang out with a good friend and a bunch of his friends. At the end of the night, he was driving her home when he pulled off the road and started telling her how beautiful she was and how attracted to her he had always been. This guy was a friend since middle school so it came as a surprise to her, and she was kinda flattered. They got in the backseat of the car, and while she was expecting a makeout session, he ended up pinning her down and raping her. She didn't put up a huge fight or anything because she basically trusted the guy, but she made clear that she didn't want to and tried to stop him a number of times until he completely physically restrained her. After that day, he never talked to her again and totally ignored her. She was a virgin up to that point. This basically completely fucked her up mentally, but since he was such a good friend before, she hadn't told anyone about the situation because she didn't want him to go to jail. She hadn't told anyone about it until she told me that night, 5 years later. Thinking about all the rage and confusion and pain that we dealt with that night still sends a chill up my spine. I've never been so angry and so sad at the same time.

We've broken up since, but she's still one of my best friends and easily one of the coolest people I know. It's amazing how strong people can be.

While on the subject, I've been sitting here for a couple hours now trying to contemplate something actually WORTH posting in comparison to everyone's hardships. I just feel like I'm lucky when it comes to life, almost to a point where I'm disgusted by it. But I find even the mundane drama that I have dealt with in my short life time, was still very effective in shaping who I am today. Normally, I wouldn't share this unless I was asked about it, but I feel that it could somehow help anyone looking for help to what ever experience I have.

School is a huge part of life; wish I understood that in elementary instead of junior year of high school.
My father died of cancer when I was 6, leaving my mother to raise me all by herself. Eventually the pain subsided but never goes away. I really feel like my life actually would have been worse if he lived to tell you guys the truth. Mom said I was so distraught that it affected me for years. Ahh, feel so scatter brained, so bear with me. Therapy was a constant when I was a kid. Had trouble in school, whether it was fights (extremely uncommon in our school), or grades. But I guess that's normal for a kid to really learn what death is... I guess it's not death that affects people the most, but how to live life for those who are gone, whether it's a pet or person.
I remember clearly the day my father died. My mother and I visited the hospital to tell my dad everything he was missing out on, (at least that's probably how he saw it). I gave him his present (a carton of cookie-dough ice cream) and gave him a big kiss as we were ready to go. As we leave my mother goes to the opposite end of the hall to discuss my father's condition with the doctors. I kept myself busy with some wheel chairs I found and had the time of my life.
In retrospect, the visit with my father lasted only a few minutes as he was in desperate need of rest, while waiting for my mother felt like an eternity. But here's the "funny" part- I've always hated myself for screwing around with those goddamn wheelchairs when I should have been spending every waking moment with my Dad. But I know I shouldn't because I didn't know what was going on, I mean come on haha, I was a kid; I'm just happy that I had 3 extra years to build memories with my father, when the doctors gave him only 3 months.

But your still probably wondering why I said I felt my life would have been worse if my father lived. I guess that lies with my parents as a couple. But that's a whole story of "what if's" that we just don't need.

As for more drama less trama- LOOOOONNNNNGGG story short, My first girlfriend was deeply troubled with problems that I naively tried to correct, almost to a point where I considered marriage. Granted there was A LOT build up to that point, but it was all so sudden. 3 months is way to fast (in my opinion obviously ) to decide your soul mate.
Buuuut I'm getting off topic, I tried being the perfect boyfriend, but ended up being the perfect bitch. She used me. Tore my heart to pieces, saying that it was the drugs talking, when she first reviled her messed up life to me. Back then I was so desperate to help her escape her family, help her coup with the discovery then SUDDEN loss of a pregnancy (not mine btw), and just pick up the pieces of her life, which I later found out she purposefully laid down so she could kick my teeth in. She's not 100% evil, but she comes pretty damn close. Toxic is probably the best term. Anyway, my whole point is try to get a 3rd person perspective on any situation, (because for me I wasn't allowed to discuss any of her problems with anyone. Guess that's one way to get a tumor) and don't jump the shark... otherwise you could find yourself in a very deep hole.

All in all these few examples from my life could be useful(?)...

Susan, on 12 April 2011 - 05:09 AM, said:

Hey, umm, this may or may not help, but uh, my cousin is transgendered. She seems to have a brand new outlook on life, is married to a guy (also transgendered) and has a very succeesfull job. You wouldn't know if you didn't know, She said it was the best decision in her life, cause she met her husband etc. But also the hardest, because her parents (my aunt and uncle) very evangelical, and tried to ignore the problem... It wasn't until she went ahead with being more female, like growing her hair and having hormone therapy or whatever and they saw how much happier she was they accepted it. And now they are are more open to transgender issues, homosexual stuff and general atheism. So... I guess it's just an example, and I don't really know the full story, I was really young when it all took place. She said the operation is really expensive, and thats why she hasn't done it yet.

This post has been edited by Luminaria: 12 April 2011 - 08:47 AM

I don't feel I can say anything that dramatic for myself really. I've had a charmed life. Any and all toughness I have has been from people pushing me to my limits. I'm grateful for it because it makes it so much easier to cope when things go nuts. I'm glad I know people who were kind enough to make me hurt, and make me work, and make me miserable, so that when life goes to hell and a handbasket, I don't panic or break down and don't worry about how I feel. I hear their voices telling me to keep going, keep fighting, keep calm, do as I was trained, think things through, that I'm not weak.

I will comment on my Fiancee however. She was in a car wreck a little over two years ago now. She had brain shearing, her then boyfriend bled to death in the crash, and she lost the odd internal organ or so. The list of injuries is just unreal. She was in a coma for weeks, the hospital for months, then in a walker, and then it took almost a year for her to recover. Her personality regressed to that of her 16 year old self. She had uncontrollable fits of rage and sadness. She's herself again now, if a bit more emotional than she used to be. We are happy, healthy, and getting married now...but the world is full of unknowns. The doctors tell us she is very suceptible to psychological problems and brain disorders later in life. Memory loss is a given, the only question is how bad.
She was also recently diagnosed with 'miserable malalignment syndrome' a leg disorder which means she will be in constant knee and hip pain for the rest of her life and they cannot correct it. Its been tough getting her motivated since the best we can hope for is to manage her mobility and pain.
On a personal note, I found out this weekend that she was apparantly raped a few years back. I knew she had been with the guy, but apparantly he had gotten her drunk and high and then coerced her. She's pragmatic about the entire thing and it doesn't bother her. She consented at the time, she just probably wouldn't have with a clear head. She's resillient that way. I'm...pissed about it...we'll go with pissed...oh so pissed.

@Susan

Honestly, from what I saw you post in the "Depression and suicide thoughts" thread I feel like I can relate to you in a lot of ways. I may not relate with your gender crisis, but I feel with the rest of it. You were describing a lot of the things I believe and feel as well.
As for what you've went through in your life... There of course isn't much I can say. I can always give you the generic 'sorry', and 'I wish it didn't happen', but no matter how true those words are, it won't really won't change anything. Then again, I guess they really aren't meant too. I suppose I can also offer up myself to help you in anyway I can, but of course there is little I can do (but if you think of anything, the offer is of course out there). I sincerely hope you're able to deal with your issues, and you're able to derive some sort of happiness out of life.

You should be honoured to have Pisstaker offer his services, Sue.

I have to pay through the fuckin' nose, godamnit.

@Wheat
I can imagine planning an intervention for a family member to be hard, but one you look up too... I know how disappointing it can be when a family member let's you down. It sure doesn't feel good.
Also, I remember hearing you tell that story about your Ex in the past, and it's just as disturbing now as it was then. Specifically how often things like that happen and nothing is ever said or done. Ugh.

Quote

It truly is.

@Dr Noyd
You speak softly regarding them, but you seem to have had dealt with some pretty terrible stuff as well. Although, I am glad you haven't surrendered to them and still manage to be grateful for your life. Truly a strength I can respect.

@Daer
It's truly horrible what happened to your wife. She has suffered a massive amount of unfortunate events, but I'm glad things are going well for you both at the time, and I hope things continue to look up.

@Sushi
lol u fag

I guess you could say those unfortunate events came along in a

<-----

Series.

SushiJaguar, on 14 April 2011 - 01:17 AM, said:

wat

Don't make me explain the joke.

@Sushi A series of unfortunate events?

@Susan - Oh my god. I really want to hug you you know that? NOBODY deserves what you've gone through. Oh, and don't let having a Y chromosome get you down! I am SURE you are beautiful, if not on the outside, then our chats on IRC have convinced me you're AMAZING on the inside. Heck, I'm SURE you're beautiful on the outside as well! Different people have different tastes in what they think is attractive, so I'm SURE somebody will like the way you look! Heck, I'm sure somebody already does! Don't let anyone EVER tell you you're not. And tell your godbrother I'd like to have a formal discussion on proper etiquette when around six-year-old boys, namely, don't rub your dick against them. And tell your mom that she should cut you some slack - seriously, she's "disabled" not "dead." I am SURE that WHEN you find The One, he will accept you for who are you, and not care that you were born as a boy. I am SURE that you WILL find happiness, and do you have a favorite flavor of cake? I'm buying.


@Daer21 - Tell your fiancee I really empathize with her, and I hope she gets better. Oh, and congratulations on getting engaged! I wish you and your future wife much happiness and long years together.

Ding ding ding, congratulations, Smash!

Johnny, tell our contestant what he's won!

@Wheat - I'm happy that your still able to be friends with your ex. If only life worked out were everyone could still be friendly to one another after intense conflicts.

@Daer21 - It's extremely unfortunate what happened to your fiancée. I know many people around me who have been effected by car accidents, and the effects of them. My last roommate had recently lost her baby while 7 months pregnant and crippled her back. The pain medication alone causes large amounts of memory loss. So I tell you this as respectfully as I can, on top of all the hardships your future wife will bestow upon you, it will be very difficult to deal with her memory loss (depending on the severity). I don't say this to make you feel hopeless or in despair, but to reassure you of how strong you are to love her with all your heart, and be there to support her by suffering through her pain together. Haha but you obviously knew that already other wise you wouldn't be marrying her after all this, now would you?

@Meowth - Thank you Meowth, I'm honored to hear such kind words from someone so caring as yourself. You truly shine when it comes to showing others your support. Haha just look at Smash's response. His joy really spreads to me, I feel like giving you a hug as well

To be fairly honest, I did bawwwwwwwwwwwwww (Though not really bawww, more like explain and get really angry) a bit in the original thread on like page two or so, but the best way I chronicled the biggest drama of my life was my hourly comics and this prose I wrote.

So yeah, if you guys are interested. It's kind of graphic, though. Admittedly if you want to see a more blunt and short and less-crazy version of it, it's somewhere in page two of the drama thread


Meowth: Abusive relationships are honestly something that bother me so much because I can imagine people thinking "why doesn't the mother just leave it" but at the same time I've seen so many circumstances where it just doesn't feel like it's a choice.. and people have to understand that it's not a case of being weak, it's a case of fear of what might happen and the consequences, especially living with such a violent partner. I'm very happy your mother managed to break out of it before it became worse. Though I feel terrible that you had to witness it. At least it was the final time.

Mallow: Is there a way to contact them again about it? At least to double-check if anything is being sorted out.. since you did text message after-school or something. I don't know, it would be good to see if that's still a stress in your head.. and maybe see how serious it is about your friend. He seems to really really want someone to talk to.. even though you seem to not wanna be his bro, maybe a lending ear can help to see how bad it really is.

Also aaaaa Zeddy ;___; At least he can always live through Pokemon~?

Also all these experiences about people with exes who are like great friends sounds really wonderful, because I've always found that really tragic to get to know a person so personally.. and drifting apart due to their issues. It's nice to see even though it's not a romantic relationship, the strength is still there.

Also Susan I feel it'll take you a while to have the ability to go through the operation, but I feel you are definitely more than just "someone in a phase" when the event actually happens I know I will fully support you in the decision. I mean there's still plenty of time for you to explore yourself and figure things out, but you seem to have such a solid outlook in terms of this kind of thing that it doesn't feel like it'll just "go away" like a lot of people might think. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise.

Dr. Noyd: Wowwwwwwwww, three months turned to three years? That's pretty fantastic considering the expectation.. I'm happy you didn't taint that little wheelchair experience with guilt.. those kind of thoughts are really terrible. Like "oh what if I did this" or "i really should have done this instead".. I mean I'm the biggest hypocrite in the WORLD to say it, but that just doesn't help at all. It's better to take the experience as just what it is.. just an experience. No regrets. And as you said, you were a kid. You were just playing around, and I'm sure your father would have preferred to see his son playing around and happy than really stressed out and in tears. You only gave him happy and innocent memories.

I look at this thread, and I feel horrible. Sure, I hate my parents, but I have a pretty coushy life. I am in a rich family, I have never really had nothing bad happen to me, other than getting lost at night once. Sure I'm kinda a big idiot, but that's my own fault. The most drama in my life is with girls, and school. That's it. Also,



Susan: You, as everyone knows, have loads of drama. I hope you do get a great life once you get away from those fucked up assholes. You'll get your lucky streak some time. No one deserves to have half as much shit in their life as you have had.



I have a feeling that once I'm of legal age and out of the house, some fucked up shit will happen to me. I really feel that I will get my share of drama.


Wow, I feel like a asshole now.

@ Grass - You have no need to feel like an asshole , you commented to the post showing your interest in our lives. If anything that's very noble of you, so don't feel bad that you feel like you have nothing to contribute, your voice alone shows your contribution.

@Taseshi - Thank you very much for you truly show wisdom when it comes to dealing with experiences. Your recollection really touched my heart, giving a sense of connection between us towards our fathers. Nothing really makes me cry, but your strength certainly is one of those few instances.

I had a girl break up with me in a suicide note. Since it'll have been about ten years ago this summer, I suppose it's not too soon to make a joke about me still being better hung than she was.

*COUGH

Hahah, Jerk, nice one.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway. I'm monogamous and she was a swinger.

Hahahahaha!

Wasn't she supposed to be the one giving you a

<----

Stiffy?

I'll post my story soon, working out just the right way of telling it. probably next week. the irc convinced me to.

Hmm... Does it count if you see and feel, but can't do anything about it...?

I only have one story, but it was one of the defining moments of my life.

Me, my sister and my parents lived in a shithole called Bonogin, about a hundred kilometres south of Brisbane. My parents were radical evangelists and were against black people, the military, gays, lesbians, transvestites, and just about anyone else who wasn't white and christian. They hid from us the realities of life and restricted our viewing of media such as TV so that we wouldn't find out about homosexuality or religions other than Christianity. thus, me and my sister were very interested in such things.
It was my particular interest in these things that eventually led to my realisation that I was bisexual, and with this revalation came the realisation of what my parents would do if they found out. I was about 14 at this time.
I managed to keep my secret for a long time, but of course, eventually the truth came out, when I was about sixteen. It did so by my sister's admittance that she was a lesbian. My father, after shouting at her for three hours about God's wrath and then locking her in a closet, eventaully turned to me and asked me if I was hiding any such thing from him. I felt my secret burning inside me, but I shook my head anyway. He looked at me for a bit and then walked out. About an hour later, he called me downstairs and let my sister out of the closet. He told her to put her coat and shoes on, because we were going for a drive. We down the coast to Tallebudgera, famed for it rough community. My father stopped the car on a side street and told my daughter to get out. She didn't respond, and he got out and pulled her into the street. With that, he got in the car, closed the door, and drove away. My sister started running after the car, but we turned a corner and I couldn't see her any more. My father turned around in his seat and said, and I remember his exact words; "Let this be a lesson in God's justice."

A couple of days later, there was an article in a local paper about a fourteen-year-old girl who was raped and stabbed in the leg in an alleyway in Middle Queensland. When my parents went out to get her, my sister had already given the police a false name and was in the process of being fostered. This left me alone in a house full of people who hated me and everything I stood for. My father kept the pressure up on me week after week, as he was convinced that homosexuality was a virus that might run in the family. Eventually, of course, he got the secret out of me, and I knew that I had to get the fuck out of town. By this point I was seventeen and leaving high school with a decent Core Skills Test result, meaning that I would get into most uni's. I packed my bags and confronted my parents in the hallway. I told them that yes, I was leaving, and that there was nothing they could do. I walked out on them and on that life.

Retelling this now, it sounds like a shitty plot for a drama film, but I guess that's life. After I moved out I stayed with some friends in a bedsit until I got a decent enough job to rent an apartment of my own, by which time I was enrolled in Melbourne University of the Arts and halfway through my BA. My sister had to go through extensive therapy to get over dependency issues and PTSD, and she's now in her final year of school. I refused from the day I walked out that I would have nothing to do with religion again, because I had seen what it could do to people. Maybe I'll change my mind one day, as soon as I see the benefits.

This post has been edited by Sammy: 16 April 2011 - 04:47 PM