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You Will Make A Change For The Better

{First new post of my new and now official blog}

That is what I got in a little fortune cookie about a month ago. I have an easy source of fortune cookies, I get tons of little messages like this, hardly thinking about any of them. Some are good messages, but when do you ever really think about one of these messages in depth a month later?

I look at my previous post (Keeping to the Small Promises) and shake my head. I failed again. I can blame my school work. I can blame depression. I can also blame simply not being motivated to do something that just didn’t have any straightforward reward from it. I can blame being too distracted by my desire to not be present in the real world, spending much time in books and video games and ignoring the drama of the world, of my family, of the truths of myself I just don’t want to admit. I can blame it on my thoughts that I might not stay around much longer.

My last blog, my “Fake Welcome Back” blog, it sounds so optimistic, so not like what I am now. I also look at the date, and it’s amazing how much of a good mood I was in just a month before everything just happened, before my family truly broke to me, before I saw the true colours of some people, before I lost all my support, financially and emotionally.

It was November, 1.5 months after my recent post. The Saturday of Thanksgiving break, 5 days before I was supposed to be spending Thanksgiving with my dad’s family, also whom I would be staying with all week. My relationship with my dad and stepmom had been getting progressively worse. They hated that I still talked with my mother, who had just recently been arrested for drinking around my 6 year old brother. Not the first time she’d been arrested for alcoholic reasons. Apparently, if I still talk to her, I will become a raging alcoholic that can’t take care of my children. My dad and stepmom also don’t agree with any of my life choices; my college, my major, my religion, my job, the list continues. That Saturday morning, I was accused of stealing cash, my actions were blamed on my new church denomination and still being friends with my mom. Later, my sexuality was also blamed for my robbery and by my religion. I don’t have the cash, I never did, yet according to them, I have taken hundreds from them and given it to my mom. All lies, but that story will not drop, and some of the extended family believe it. I’ve had to cut off these two important figures in my life and a few others. I love my dad, my stepmom too, but it got too bad. They told me to get out of their house, and I’m not allowed back unless I fix my life (to their liking) and return the money they claim I stole. They call my nondenominational church a “Cult”, they are on the bandwagon belief that all LGBTQ are evil and products of Satan, and they keep telling me to drop out of college if I can’t be perfect in it. I have not had any true communication since that day.

I have developed PTSD from this event. I can no longer keep control of my emotions when any male in my vicinity raises his voice even slightly. Even in church when the male pastor raises his voice to say something spiritually amazing, I still feel like I’m back at that day. I also have a mental breakdown when I interact or have to be near police officers or anyone in any police uniform. I finally accepted that these things are not normal, told my counselor(S) about what I had discovered, and I have been undergoing DBT therapy since April now. Notice it took me 6 months to tell anyone what really happened and admit that I actually am not over it. I’m damaged from it, and I had to have people tell me that. People around me had to give me an intervention to finally get more mental help and admit EVERYTHING that was going on.

I’ve also stopped hiding my sexuality from those around me. I’ve started dating a lovely girl, her nickname is Essi. I am keeping her real name private, just in case. I now support my PRIDE bracelet around everyone, I no longer use my “clean” backpack when going to places that contain people that may or may not support it. My actual backpack contains several pride and Love Is Love buttons, and I have used my spare with no buttons, just to keep safe. I no longer care about hiding. If people in my real life know, I don’t care anymore. They can support it, ignore it, or ignore me. I already feel less paranoid about people around me knowing.

These changes have been extreme to me, but not compared to the last one. I know a lot of people do it, but with my perfectionist and threatening family, it was not a possibility for me. Not before. I am taking a year off from school. I will be back at Mizzou in Fall of 2019. I am still living in Columbia because my real support is here, and no blood relatives. I have moved into the Reserve apartment complex not too far from the campus of Mizzou and surrounded by students. That also means I will still be on the campus occasionally, participating in campus events and other activities that don’t require me being enrolled in classes immediately.

After considering this option for weeks, I realise it’s not the end of the world. I’m not dying, nor do I actually want to for the first time in a long time. I’m not dropping out of school, I’m not giving up on my insane dream, I’m not ruining my life, I’m just taking a break from something major for a while. I just need to look at this as a new opportunity. With this, I will be using this blog more. I will be straightforward about it, I learned how to earn money from a blog, and that’s one reason I’m continuing with it. At this point, any financial advancement will help with the debt I have acquired, and being newly independent. The other reason is that I like the idea of being an anonymous blogger, talking about things I normally can’t, and knowing at least one person will read it and maybe like it. I also need to practice nonfiction writing somehow.

I am glad to be alive, and glad to be back with a new opportunity.

-EmmiR

 

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