Author: Krystal Joy

My head has been all over the place recently as have my emotions. Part of the reason why is because I am once again thinking of my childhood. I thought I had reached a good point of moving past my younger years only to realize that I am far from it.

I have been thinking about my father lately. I am in denial, in a way. I tell myself it does not matter that he gives no effort to reconcile or be in my life but the truth is it does matter because it still hurts.

It hurts deeply to know that I have been struggling with my past, particularly my past with my parents, since February this year and the only response I received from him after he gained knowledge of my inquiries was to cuss me out and tell me to pretend I did not have a father.

Is that his guilt? Is that his shame? Is that his denial? Is that his defense?

He never asked me any questions. He never even tried to find out what I had to say about any of it. He heard about my inquiries from a third party who also had not had a full discussion with me.

It hurts to know he has made such a harsh judgment call without even knowing everything. I do not even know what he thinks he knows. It is a mess.

It hurts even more to think about my childhood and everything that happened, to feel all those harbored emotions and to couple that with the treatment I receive from him now.

How do I accept all of this? How do I forgive him? I have pretty much decided my life, and my children’s lives, are better without him in it so it is hard to figure out what I even want from him and why I seem to be so stuck on these issues.

I only know that I do not want to repeat the behavior patterns I experienced as a child, for my children. How, though, do I conquer these particular demons? It seems as if I have been in battle for quite some time and I am growing weary.

It is not wrong for a child to want support from their parents. Nor is it wrong for a child to want to feel loved and accepted by their parents, no matter what age. The negativity that has surrounded me my entire life constantly tries to tell me that I am not good enough for my parent’s love, support, and acceptance.

Thankfully, I have come far enough on my own to realize that I am good enough and it is truly not my loss. Unfortunately, it still hurts.

“As I grew into adult-hood, I blamed a lot of my life on my dad. I also held back a lot of who I am because of him. Books I read, and people I spoke to said it was natural for me to feel the way I did. It was as if society itself approved—gave me a “way out” so to speak.

Blaming my dad was “just an excuse” for me not to take responsibility for my own life. Before I could grow into the person I desired to be, I had to forgive my father. I had to TOTALLY let go of the anger and the hatred I felt for him. I would constantly repeat the following quote by Eleanor Roosevelt: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

By harboring the negative feelings, I was allowing my dad to make me feel inferior. What’s sort of ironic is the fact that these things happened years before. My dad probably never gave them a second thought. My feelings were hurting me—not him. FORGIVING my dad gave me control over my emotions and over my life. There were no excuses. I could no longer blame my actions or my emotions on the abuse I experienced as a child. By freeing myself of these negative emotions, it allowed me to live the life I choose to live. This is truly the basis for forgiveness. Harboring ill thoughts only destroys you, not the person you are angry with. Holding onto anger and hurtful feelings gives you an excuse by blaming others for the way you think, act and feel. This can be dangerous. After all, you are the only person that has 100% invested in you. So it’s time to take charge and take control of your feelings. The first step is to forgive those that have hurt you.” Excerpt from: https://www.virtuesforlife.com/forgiving-my-father/

Picture From: http://www.melissadewittphotography.com/blog/2014/2/6/child-abuse-is-real-columbia-city-in-childrens-photographer

For more from Krystal Joy visit her blog at ehhwhatever.com. Also check her out on Facebook at Ehh, whatever!

Suddenly I am standing on the front porch of my nightmares, the door eerily still, wide open. I feel the walls close in on me as I look at that spot on the floor. The haunting shade of red draws me in as I recall being curled up on that floor, spitting blood and drowning in my tears.

The back porch door slams shut with a thunderous boom that demands my attention. I find the gaping hole in the new, unfinished drywall and I’m brought back to the time where my words were unwelcome. The sting on my face feels so real, I turn away despondent.

I hear the ghostly whisper, just inside the front door, “Why are you so impossible to love?” I’m struggling to catch my breath as I’m assaulted with toxic, wicked words from the past. The fireplace roars to life for only a brief second. It’s long enough to take me back to the rush of adrenaline at the sight of him in handcuffs, surrounded by innocent, worried angels.

I avert my eyes as the pain of these flickering memories comes to life. I wipe the lone tear before it falls and pick my shoulders up. The ghosts of the past grab my hand and lead me toward the girls’ room. I stand frozen as I stare at the closet where I had spent many nights hiding, running.

The light overhead flickers on. I’m alone in a bare room, the walls peeling and flaking away different colors, bringing back all the changes this room alone has seen. I breathe in deeply as I scan the room and recall the fold-away cot that used to reside in that corner. I feel a breath on my ear and recall more words from the past, ‘cold-hearted bitch.’

I hug my arms to my body and turn around. I flip the light switch as I move past the door. One last glance back shows me the outline of the crib that was once there, and I’m reminded of his negligence. Slowly shuffling down the hall towards’ the boys room I look up to see that single, fist sized hole in the wall.

‘I feel sorry for your kids having you as a mother.’ I pause, clasp my hands over my ears, and will the words to stop. I continue on to pass the bathroom that will never see completion and I’m riddled with pain as I remember all the empty promises.

As I approach the boys’ room, the door swings open as if waiting for my arrival. I see myself standing over there, tears rolling down my cheeks, paint roller in my hand, words of despair roaring out of my mouth. I watch those words fly through the air and explode on the ghost of the man who first broke my heart.

I see myself sitting in the corner, head leaning against the wall, eyes wide open, watching those sleeping angels. The feeling of letting them down is so real I can’t help but gasp for breath.

My breath won’t come and I panic. I run, tripping into the living room. I fall in the exact spot where he tackled me to the ground. I feel completely paralyzed as he pins me down and demands I stay. I push him off and he vanishes into thin air. I try, but fail, to pick myself up, breath heaving. The terror is squeezing my lungs.

I begin to crawl towards the kitchen when suddenly the knives are thrown across the floor towards me. The blades glisten in the moonlight creeping through the window. ‘Here, take it. Cut yourself.’ Instinctively, I grasp the handle of the closest knife in my fist. Defiantly, I throw it with as much force as I can as I scream, “FUCK YOU!”

I angrily pick myself up from the floor and push through to the place that once held me prisoner. As I reach the threshold I’m forcefully shoved backwards. I catch myself against the wall and feel a strong breeze blow past me. I’m suddenly assaulted with the memory of him malevolently stealing my angel and disappearing.

I shiver as the temperature seems to plummet suddenly. I move back towards the doorway of my own personal hell. I’m assaulted on all sides as I step into the darkness. It’s so dark and feels so cold. Each breath I take feels like a knife to the lungs.

There is a strong wind blowing remnants of what once was into a chaotic scene of pain and agony. The objects of my rage fly through the swirling ashes. I begin to see the faint outline of an unforgettable man coming towards me.

Everything in me is saying to go, run. I feel paralyzed until that strong grip pushes me to my knees. I can see him remove his pants and come closer. In an instant he’s gone so quick, vanished. I slump over, heaving, as I’m lost in the vicious grip of trauma.

I struggle to gain composure as I whisper to myself, “It’s a nightmare. You survived.” After an eternity I sit up and look around. Through the haze I see the towering bed frame on the other side of the room. Next to it I can barely make out the table. I see the slight glimmer of the precious object that was more important than me. I reach out to touch it and pull my hand back, burned.

The flames ignite all around me as everything I ever owned disintegrates to ash. The fire moves across the unfinished floor as if leading me to the bathroom. I hear a horrid, bellowing scream as I move toward it. I glance at the mirror and pale as his form appears behind me.

I blink and I’m flat on the floor with an ache in my jaw. The flames are gone but I still feel the fire burning inside me. I pick myself up and shoot flames at the outline of his face. I’m swirled around so fast I become dizzy. I begin seeing stars as he bends me over the sink. My tears come so fast and hard the sink begins to overflow.

I’m frozen in fear. I can’t turn around. The water is building up so fast. I’m choking on my own tears. I look up, into the mirror, and it is as if nothing happened. Everything looks eerily put together, colorful and arranged just so.

I look to my right at the window and toilet. I pause at all the holes in the wall. I grip my fist and remember the pain and frustration of putting all those holes there. I glance to my left at the cabinet and shower. I walk to that place on the floor where I spent so much time writing, venting, smoking.

I’m so terribly confused. I’m so horridly heartbroken. I’m so dejectedly ashamed.

I move to shut the light off and head back to the bedroom. A deepening sadness overcomes me as I pass the door frame. I become a chaotic mix of fire and water and the pressure builds up. The despair is overwhelming but the anger is growing larger.

I walk around the bed to my side. As I sit down, the color drains from the room, as if unplugging a bathtub. I’m plunged into darkness once more. I fight back the panic as I hear dominating voices getting louder. I struggle to keep my breathing steady as the tears fall down my cheeks.

I see the glint of silver from those small, sharp scissors. As if in a trance, I pick them up. I run my finger along the edge and I’m stabbed with disappointment. I feel the blood creep down my skin as I pass out.

Picture is my own. Follow me on facebook at Ehh, whatever. Visit my page at ehhwhatever.com

I am an honest person. I cannot stand lying. I am a horrible liar.

I struggle to even tell a friend ‘That shirt is so cute!’ when it is the most hideous thing I have ever seen.

I have kept a lot of my truths under lock and key because of fear. I have feared judgment, abandonment, and confusion. I have feared saying my truths and upsetting those in my life.

I will no longer be that person. 

I recently walked away from a toxic relationship, a toxic person. I allowed this man to turn me into a toxic person. I allowed this man to treat me in ways I would never want my daughters to be treated.

I allowed this man to abuse me, lie to me, cheat on me, degrade me, and manipulate me.

I once was head over heals in love with this man. Our highs were the most exquisite and magical moments I have ever experienced with another human being. Our sex life was off the chains explosive every single time. Things were great for so long.

But hindsight is a bittersweet bitch. I allowed myself to be fooled. One red flag is when the highs are so high but the lows are lower than low. Another red flag is when he would lie about tiny little things that wouldn’t matter in the long run.

Looking back, I was always apologizing. I avoid conflict and he used that to manipulate me.

I will no longer protect this man. He has cussed me out, threatened suicide if I leave, and accused me of stealing from him. He has purposefully hit my car and had the police called on me.

Over the course of our almost three years together, he has hit me, sexually assaulted me, propositioned and slept with someone very close to me, and hit me again. I have been called and told so many awful things by this man.

This year I had discovered some traumas from my childhood. This man exploited my traumas and told my secrets. He had no right to share my truths like they were his own. Not only did he share my truths, he practically re-traumatized me in the same way.

If any of this sounds familiar to you, be strong. You ARE strong enough to leave. You do have worth. And if you’re questioning your partner at all, leave. You’re better than that.

If I have learned anything from this experience with this man it’s that I have worth. I have also learned that I deserve better than what I’d been putting up with. And if he won’t give me better I damn well will make better happen for myself.

And if he is reading this right now, I hope you tremble in fear at my truths finally surfacing. I’m not afraid of you. I will no longer allow you to manipulate, abuse, or control me. Good riddance, asshole!

Picture From: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/403001866634503859/

You have lived for so long as a broken thing, always searching elsewhere for the fix. You put the pieces of your heart in his hands, trusting that he would help put them back together. You learned the hard way that the only true fix comes from within.

You know he meant well. You know it wasn’t always like this. You were hit by surprise in more than one way. You continued to make excuses for both of you.

You held onto blind hope of what could be, what once was. You mostly ignored things for what they actually were. You clung to love for the cure all.

The things you learned from this love are life changing. You learned the hard way that life will give you the same lessons until you learn what you need to from it. You learned that change is not always a good thing.

It’s going to hurt for a while. Stay strong knowing that you have worth.

You need to believe in yourself enough to know that you will heal. You need to love yourself, be there for yourself, pick yourself up. You always had true and good intentions. Forgive yourself.

Picture From: https://tinybuddha.com/blog/moving-heartbreak-happiness-work-pain/

Check out more of my work at ehhwhatever.com

A walk through ‘our’ home;

My eyes open and I look to my right. Strands of your hair rest gently on an undisturbed pillow atop neatly tucked covers. I look around the room and all I see is you. Your things on the dresser,  shoe on the floor here, it’s partner over there. But you’re not there. 

I FEEL A VOID IN MY CHEST. I KNOW I JUST TOOK A BREATH BUT MY LUNGS FEEL EMPTY.

I walk down the hallway and pause at the laundry room. I remember us staying up all night putting the new floor in. The smile on your face when I brought home a new washer and dryer with more functions than most cars. But you’re not there. 

THE VOID STARTS TO FEEL DEEPER, REACHING MY STOMACH.

Into the kitchen I go, walking past the kid’s chore charts on the wall. I see the kid’s activity dresser full of small knick-knacks, crafts, and crayons. I see the kitchen table where I am flooded with images of five little ones painting rocks, doing homework, and eating meals. I see the kitchen sink where long ago I cut a hose and soon realized I forgot to shut the water off first. We were soaking wet but laughed so hard. But you’re not there. 

THE VOID STARTS TO BURN.

Swiftly, I move into the living room and the silence stops me. I hear no music. I see no cartoons on the TV, no toys on the floor to maneuver around, no sheet forts hanging from the ceiling, no cardboard box castles cluttering the floor. I look around, again and again. But you’re not there.

THE VOID DEEPENS. THE BURNING SHARPENS LIKE A HOT KNIFE IS ABOUT TO PIERCE MY FLESH.

I rush down the hallway, one by one, checking the kid’s rooms. No one. feverishly, I look around, searching. I see the beds we assembled, the toys we have replaced a car payments’ worth of batteries in. I see flashes of bedtime stories, airplane rides, belly farts, and goodnight kisses. But you’re not there. 

THE VOID WIDENS. A SCORCHING, SLICING FEELING SLIDES THROUGH MY TORSO.

I run to the porch towards the front door, dodging all the piles of tools and materials for all the things on my ‘to-do’ list. I look in the small little corner you carved out just for you and a tear falls from my eye. I think about all the times I promised I would clear it all out and make you a little ‘mama retreat’. But you’re not there.

THE VOID IS TORN OPEN. A CRUSHING WEIGHT IS BEARING DOWN ON MY CHEST.

I throw the front door open to see an empty spot in the driveway. I jump down the stairs and sprint to the backyard. Suddenly, I stop like a truck slamming into a brick wall. I look around and I’m immersed with memories of water fights, running through the sprinklers, bounce house parties, barbecues, homemade water slides, sled rides, building snowmen, and the laughter of innocence coming from five incredible children.

THE VOID IN MY CHEST EXPLODES. MY KNEES HIT THE EARTH BENEATH ME. THE BURNING SPREADS THROUGHOUT MY ENTIRE BODY. MY EYES STRUGGLE TO SEARCH AROUND. I’M CRAWLING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES.

But you’re not there. 

Somebody help me. Wake me up from this nightmare. Tell me this isn’t true.

I look up at ‘our’ house and the pain is so excruciating as I realize it isn’t a nightmare. This is my reality. I did this. I destroyed this. I didn’t lose you. I drove you away.

Picture From: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/445293481886123750/

I wake up everyday feeling dead inside // Am I dead or am I dying // I’m always running and hiding // I’m always searching and seeking, questioning and weaving // Why is everyone always leaving? 

How do I fix this? How do I not miss? I’m so sick of this shit.

Head, heart, life’s a mess // cant get away from this stress // I’m so fucking depressed // Been feeling so tired, so wired, so numb // turning to the bottle and dealing with less.

Can’t give up, can’t quit- but I don’t want to wake up// it’s so hard to give a fuck.

Between a cliff and a blade’s edge, a rock and a hard place // which way to go // I don’t know, I don’t know… I DON’T KNOW. 

Feeling too much and falling too deep // losing piece after piece that I’m trying to keep // I need sleep.

Trying to hunt down my demons but feeling like prey // world on my shoulders, I am not okay // Red falling like rain in the cold light of day // will you miss me when i’m gone // it’s better off this way.

Picture From:http://edwardpun.blogspot.com/2010/10/ghost-in-cemetery.html 

When my siblings and I were younger, living in the same house with both mom and dad, we used to have a tape recorder. It was what was considered micro back then and it was silver.

The only reason we had this tape recorder was for evidence. We would record our parent’s fights. We didn’t ever end up needing to use those tapes. I honestly had forgotten all about them.

Recently, my younger sister was at my house and she mentioned them. Because of this journey I’ve been on with trying to understand my past, I was highly interested in hearing those tapes. Unfortunately, she had dire circumstances in which she had to record over some of the tapes.

She finally brought that old tape recorder over this week. We gave it a listen. It’s amazing how far technology has come since then because having to wait to rewind that tape took forever!

We finally found a small bit on the tape that hadn’t been recorded over. Funny thing, we heard everyone’s voices from the past except for our own; both brothers, older sister, and both parents.

Listening to that tape, everything rushed back to me. Based off of the things that were said on that tape we were able to get a rough timeframe of when it was recorded: ELEVEN YEARS AGO. It was just past midnight on a summer night.

It was a bit rough to listen to that little tidbit on that old tape recorder. I had the thought that if an argument like that happened every once in a blue moon, it wouldn’t be so bad. However, arguments like that happened damn near every single night in our household. EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT.

The argument on this tape was actually pretty mild compared to what I can recall; items being thrown, glass being broken, much more cuss words.

I was asked later after hearing the tape, what was the purpose of listening to it? I don’t know exactly. But after I listened to it I felt reassured that I am not making shit up when I say my childhood was awful. I am not being dramatic when I say that I had to grow up at 8 years old.

Being as old as I am now, with kids of my own, I am able to have a more mature perspective when listening to a piece of my past. My parents were already divorced at the point in the tape. My mother had moved back in with my father because she was struggling to get out on her own.

My father is obviously drunk in the tape and bounces from one subject to the next, seemingly without taking a breath. My mother is obviously tired on the tape. My siblings are obviously very aware of what is going on and very protective of my mother.

None of it should have happened. What is the point of listening to the tape? Maybe there wasn’t a point when I began listening… but I have a good reason now. Listening to that tape reassured me about my thoughts and feelings on my childhood. It also gave me a boost of motivation to not repeat the horrible cycle I was shown growing up.

Turning to the bottle is a copout, like hiding. Placing yourself into a situation in which you know is volatile, is like giving up. What about the innocent kids?

Throughout my counseling sessions, I have talked about my feelings towards my parents a lot. I have fully realized that holding onto the past and allowing it to control me is doing good for no one. I am able to look back and see my parents without feeling, without judgment. Could they have done better? SHOULD they have done better? Absolutely. But, they were doing what they could with what they had and what they knew. It’s in the past I won’t be repeating for my children.

While I am not close with either of my parents to this day, they most certainly taught me lessons, even if in a fucked up way.

Picture From:https://www.moviemaniaonline.co.uk/products/saw-v-2008-agent-strahm-tape-recorder 

It’s okay to sometimes feel down and out. Even to see red and feel blue. 

But just remember to breathe in slow and breathe out slow.

Things have been hard lately, there’s no denying that. You don’t feel like you’re being seen. And things just find a way to pile up. 

It’s like you’re living on autopilot, like a robot. But you seem to be malfunctioning.

Depression is a dark and twisted place. But it’s not your final destination. So let all those feelings wash over you. Feel them. It hurts, doesn’t it?

Sit in that hurt for a moment, just a moment and feel it. Then let those feelings out. Let them go. Get out of your head for a bit.

Don’t pick up the razor blade, don’t make those cuts.

Don’t pick up those drugs, you’ve got to wake up.

Put down your escape route and pick up your future.

That little voice in your head, whispering all those black thoughts, you can stop it. Once you find it stomp on it and tear it to pieces.

Then get on your internal loudspeaker and shout, ‘I am going to be okay. I am alive today. I am good enough. I am worthy.’

Look up at the sky and see life. Put your hand over your heart and feel life.

What do you want? What do you like? Where do you want to go?

These are tough questions when you’re battling with thoughts of never waking up again. But ask yourself those questions and continue looking for those answers.

You are important. You are needed. You are wanted.

And you will be okay.

The whole world is at your feet. You’re not alone, as hard as it may be to believe.

Tomorrow is a new day and it’s all yours.

Picture From: http://tinybuddha.com/blog/9-basic-needs-we-must-meet-to-feel-happy-and-alive/

I realized today, while in psychic development class, that I am in a position where I have to make a decision. Making this decision calls in to question different beliefs that I have.

I believe people can and do change. The change may be subtle and quiet or it may be loud and totally noticeable. I am the type of person that goes with the flow. I avoid and hate conflict and criticism. This could be a strength at times and a weakness at others.

I am a paradox in most aspects of life. Good and bad, positive and negative  flow intertwined most times. I have been working on changing  my inner voice in hopes to be a more positive person. Like the saying, you are what you eat, you get what you give; the law of attraction.

I am grappling with indecision on whether or not to cut someone out of my life, for good. How can I make such a permanent decision when I hold the belief that people are capable of change?

This person crossed some lines in my life. This person has abused me, in more than one way. This person has caused me a world of pain and confusion. Not just now but a long way back as well.

I consider myself to be rather forgiving. I consider myself a person who does not judge others.

But this person has hurt me. This person has caused a lot of turbulence in my life for as long as I can remember.

This person has been through hell themselves. But is that an excuse for treating others the same?

This decision that is weighing me down will affect more than just myself. It feels as if my road will fork and offer me the high road or the low road. Each choice will come with its own consequences. Each choice will affect those in my sphere.

I am terrified. How do I even weigh this decision?

If this person even has anything to say, how do I listen?

Harder yet, if this person has nothing to say, how do I listen?

I feel that family is important in life. I believe that family could be more than just blood ties.

I thought I believed that family, blood or not, would be able to work through anything together. This person’s actions and inactions call even that belief into question.

Everything in my life is pointing towards the need to make this decision. Yet, indecision is festering. Head and heart are playing tug of war for what feels like the first time in my life.

The angel and the devil on my shoulders are in a seemingly endless debate, each presenting valid points and counterpoints.

You ever spin a quarter on a tabletop? That’s my life right now. The quarter is slowing down and losing center balance. It’s going to fall on one side.

Yet, I have no idea which side I’m calling out. Heads or tails?

Picture From: https://writingalife.com/2016/06/

I hear little footsteps coming down the hall toward my bedroom. I hear excited whispers and joyous giggles. I roll over onto my back and attempt to stifle a yawn.

The kids are now right outside my bedroom door whispering amongst each other. I quickly close my eyes and pretend I’m still asleep. There is a tap on my shoulder. I peek my eyelid open just enough to see a tiny, messy hand.

“Maaaaaaammmmmaaaaa! Wake up!”, says the youngest child. I slowly open both my eyes and pretend to have a huge yawn and stretch. Lined up on my side of the bed are the five kids. The youngest, also the closest, was the one to wake me.

The twins are holding gorgeous flowers for me. The girls are carrying a tray with my breakfast and a glass of orange juice to drink. At the very end of the line is my partner, carrying the champagne that will transform that orange juice into a special occasion drink.

I say to them all, “Oh wow! Look at this! You guys brought me breakfast in bed?! How sweet!”

“Happy Mother’s Day!!”, they all shout at once as they begin to set all my goodies down. One by one, I give them hugs and kisses and tell them thank you. They slowly file back out of the room and leave me to my eating.

My partner pours the champagne in my orange juice and says “Happy Mother’s Day babe. You’re the best mom for all of us. You do so much for everyone. Today is your day! Take your time and enjoy your breakfast. After, take a nice hot bath! I’ll take the kids outside for a bit so you can enjoy some quiet. When you’re comfortable and ready to start your day, join us for some lunch! I love you!”

He kisses me on the forehead and turns to leave the room.

Now ladies, tell me, wouldn’t that make for a great start to Mother’s Day? I sure think so! Moms are always ‘go, go go!’. There is ONE DAY A YEAR dedicated to mothers. I say we should live it up!

Men, keep this in mind! Take care of your mothers on this special day.  Without moms, the world would stop turning. Let your moms KNOW they are loved and appreciated this Mother’s Day.

P.S. Mother’s Day is Sunday May 14, 2017.

Picture From: http://metro.co.uk/2017/02/24/mothers-day-2017-when-is-mothering-sunday-and-why-does-the-date-change-6470306/