Emotional Abuse: Family Edition

One would think, that after all these years on earth, I would cease being surprised at the level of depravity and cruelty human beings possess. We are barraged with more and more stories of terrorist attacks, torture, murder, war… it never ends. I can’t watch the news without getting upset or anxious anymore. Even scrolling through my Facebook feed can be rocky territory! But this blog isn’t about the massive events that we all get to hear about. No, we have enough opinions shoved down our throats in that area. No, this blog is about the depravity and cruelty that people would prefer to hide behind closed doors.

This blog is about severe, intentional, and traumatic emotional abuse.

I don’t think anyone gets through this life unscathed. We’ve all been called names and been dealt harsh words at some point or other. But what is more common than it should be, is the intentional pain – when they fire off the perfect phrase that they know will make you crumble inside; call you that one name you despise; spread lies that discredit your words. For myself, this is one of the worst kinds of abuse because it so often comes from people that you are supposed to be able to trust, people you love and feel safe with. But the intimacy shared between you becomes a weapon in their arsenal to cause you the greatest pain.

Sometimes the abuse comes from a father who openly prefers one child over the other. The father who resents his son for being more of a man than him. The father who calls his son “little bitch boy” to make sure he knows his place and status – less than. The father who is so threatened by his son, he will spread lies about you to anyone who will listen, so no one will ever believe your cries for help. The father who actually takes the time to craft the perfect message that will hit your deepest fears and insecurities. The father who openly wishes you were just “gone” or dead.

Other times, the abuse comes from a mother who was so damaged as a young girl, she will do anything to gain some form of approval or love. The mother who will drink herself into a stupor then criticize the way you live your life. The mother who will happily say horrible things about you if it means someone else will “accept” them. The mother who calls the cops on you just to get you out of the house because her newest husband doesn’t like you. The mother who sold you to a man who wasn’t your father. The mother who left you AGAIN to be with her preferred children. The mother who uses your insecurities against you when you need her support the most.

Siblings can cause even more trauma. Like the sister who you spent your life protecting, but now uses your past mistakes to hurt you. The sister who used to beg for your help, but then claims you were never there. The sister who says you should never have been born; “a load that should have been swallowed.” The sister who you grew up with, loved, and cherished, now takes her time to deny every single thing you’ve ever done for her because she knows it hurts you. The little sisters who you happily fought for who now take joy in calling you hurtful names and hurl slanderous accusations at you. The sister who denies her own abuse to ensure that her bank account stays full. The sister who would rather see you dead than succeed.

Then there are those special families… the ones where that father? He’s yours. The mother? Her too. The sisters? The ringleaders of your emotional destruction. Do these families exist? Absolutely. I’ve been watching it in action for months as my boyfriend has been repeatedly beaten down by his family. They’ve even included me in, as I am another way to hurt him. That’s how cruel this family is.

I’ve watched as he has tried to defend himself in a group text with his father and sisters – in the time it takes him to even respond to one remark, they have hurled ten more insults, accusations, and lies to tear him down. Within a minute he can receive up to 20 texts from his sisters and father, all emotionally abusive, slanderous, and hateful. His mother was also cast out by her sister and daughters. Being the dutiful son he is, he comforted his mom, encouraged her and let her know she wasn’t alone in this. We spent many a day and night holding her hand, wiping her tears, and calming fights between her and her husband. We didn’t want her to suffer like he does. But when someone who cast her out offered her a kernel of acceptance and false love? She immediately jumped on the bandwagon that lives to destroy her firstborn child and only son. The “family” who actually thrives on trying to make him hate himself.

What is truly sad about all of this, aside from the intentional abuse, is that none of them know who he truly is. The good man who loves God, who comforts my dad, who rides his bike to raise money for children’s cancer prevention. The man who will jump into a river to save a malnourished dog. The man who would sell everything in his possession just to make sure his dogs are well cared for. They don’t know this man because they’ve chosen to cast him as a villain. Why?

No one likes the person who calls you out for who you really are: A pervert, a drunk, an addict. The best defense against someone who tells the truth?

Shatter their public image and character.

So let me correct those of you who choose to believe the lies and deceit, those of you who purposefully try to bring him down and tear him apart from the inside out: Christopher has always told the truth about his life. What has happened to him and his recollection of his past. He is a good man who only LOVES with that giant heart in his chest.

Stand up against those who persecute you. If you are scared to do it alone, we will stand with you. God will hold your hand.

Just know, that no matter what, you aren’t alone in your pain – and there is nothing wrong with reaching out for help. 

For All my Mamas

Family isn’t always blood. I have been blessed with family all over the world and I’m not related to them at all. But they have been with me every step of the way, since the day I met them, when my life has taken a turn for the tragic or traumatic.

Who are these people all over the world who have adopted me as their own? They are fantastic group of women (and a handful of men) who have all invited me into their lives and homes. I have lovingly called them my “mamas” because they have all shown me unconditional love. How have we all come together? A TV show called LOST J

I started watching LOST my freshman year of high school when it premiered in 2004. One of my best friends loved the show and got me hooked on it. We even incorporated some of the main characters’ names in a skit we wrote for school.

My freshman year of college, I found out that they had discussion boards online for fans of the show. A friend of mine who was also a fan of LOST said he occasionally got on the boards and I decided I would check them out. Low and behold, I found some sweet ladies who were regulars on the board who welcomed me to their online groups with open arms.

Their kindness and sharp humor is what immediately sucked me in. They would make me belly laugh with their jokes and jabs at each other. It was a safe space for us to talk about recent episodes as well as share little parts of our lives with one another. Slowly, I began to chat with some of the ladies via e-mail as well as on the boards, allowing us to share more intimate details of our lives and really get to know one another.

As the show started to head into its last few seasons, we began to transition to Facebook to connect with everyone. Being the youngest of our large group, I helped a lot of our family to create Facebook profiles. We were all able to console one another as we cried through the end of the series – the TV show that brought us all together and permanently changed our lives ended after 6 years.

It may seem silly that something like a TV show could make such an impact on someone, but for us, it was more than just a TV show. It was our first connection with one another and we fell in love with the stories and characters. For 6 years, we watched them grow and change, wept when a character we loved died, and shared our constant confusion at some of the crazier plots. At the end of the day, it was a home for us; a place of acceptance and love, something a lot of people look for their entire lives. We just happened to find it within each other through a shared love of a television show.

I was 19 when I first met one of my mamas in person. She lived in the same state as myself, and my college was relatively close to where she lived at the time. We had coffee at a coffee shop and chatted away like we’d known one another our entire lives. I remember thinking it was one of the craziest feelings to meet someone I spoke to every day for the first time but still feel safe and comfortable at the same time.

This was not our last meeting. When I was 21, I journeyed to North Carolina to meet another one of my mamas and spent a week with her. Again, the minute I got off the plane and saw her, I felt like I was already home. The entire week with her felt like a long slumber party; we would stay up late talking and sleep in late every day. We went on little adventures and I played on the beach (she still laughs that I stuck my toes in the Atlantic ocean in the middle of January). It was one of the best weeks of my life and I desperately needed the get away at the time. I bawled when I left, wishing I could just stay with my mama and keep laughing and talking every day away. I still have the stuffed animal she gave me when I got on the plane home. 

That summer I flew to Florida to stay with not only my mamas I had already met in person, but several others as well! We stayed at Mama B’s house where we met with other Losties and went to the beach and just generally had fun! It was two weeks of girl time and bonding and it was a wonderful way for us all to get to know one another.

About a year or so later, I flew to stay with another one of my Lostie mamas in Washington. What made this trip extra special was that another one of the mamas who lives in Canada drove down with her awesome daughter and spent the week with us! We did so much sight-seeing and laughing. We were even treated to a Lady Antebellum concert as well! It was a drizzly week but a week I will never forget.

The last time I saw my LOST mamas in person was when I flew down to Alabama to spend another two weeks with Mama B as well as Mama D and Mama S. Again, it was another two weeks spent lounging and relaxing – staying up all night and sleeping late into the day. We even watched all the seasons of LOST during the visit J

Unfortunately, this was the last time I saw my Mama B. I know she wouldn’t mind, so I will share that Mama B’s name was Beth. Beth is not the only Mama who has a special place in my heart, but she was actually the first one who I began speaking to outside of the threads. We always seemed to find more and more about us that was alike when we talked. She was a gentle, kind, and sweet soul. She was amazing and one of my heroes.

We lost Beth to a massive stroke a few years ago in 2014. It was another loss like my mother, where I felt like the very foundation of my earth was shaken. She slipped into a coma when she passed and Mama D was with her and her family the entire time, constantly updating us on her condition. I remember the afternoon it sunk in that Beth wouldn’t be waking up. I spoke with mama D on the phone and after we hung up I just threw my phone on the bed and began to hyperventilate and weep. All I could think was “not again… not another loss.” I couldn’t even fly down for the visitation and memorial due to a recent broken ankle at the time.

Beth passed away less than two days later. I got the call in the middle of the night from Mama S letting me know that Beth was gone. I felt the pit in my chest but knew that emotionally I had to shut down. Losing Beth was just too much.

Mama D was very close with Beth – sisters that found each other through a shared love of a television show. Mama D has been ill for a very long time with an autoimmune disease that has stolen so much of the last several years of her life. She continues to search for a doctor who not only can but is willing to perform a kidney transplant to give her back some quality of life. So far, she continues to meet dead ends and each time, I know that her children, myself, and Mama D lose just a little more hope that this can be fixed. While I have complete faith that God can and will continue to use mama D for the rest of her life here on earth, I also have faith that she can find a doctor who will take a chance on giving her back her life. I promise you, you have never met someone so filled with a zest for life and for simply living it. Just like Beth, she is strong and has an amazing warrior’s spirit. I have been truly blessed to know her and call her mom, friend, and sister.

I’ve included a few more details about a handful of my mamas, but in reality, there are SO many of them who have supported me since the day I posted on the boards. They have helped me financially, emotionally, spiritually… when my mother passed, they took up a collection for me as well as sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers to the funeral home.

After Beth passed away, I wanted to get a sunflower tattoo for her. I didn't want an ordinary sunflower though, because Beth was EXTRAORDINARY. So I asked a friend of mine to have her daughter draw me some sunflowers that were unique. Her daughter is especially gifted in art and she ended up designing my favorite tattoo that I have. Her mom loved it so much she even had it tattooed on her foot as well! 

Like I told my mom shortly before she died, I have more than just one family. I have family all over the world who love me and take care of me. I hope that I have shown them the same kind of love and support that they have shown me all these years. They’ve all been there through thick and thin and I couldn’t have asked for a better support system than this group of ladies. I am eternally grateful for them as they entered my life at a time when I needed them most. They have each left a significant mark on my heart and I will carry each of them with me forever.

Justice for Nanette

In a previous post of mine, I shared the abandonment I have experienced by my mother's side of the family. I have been accused of lying, of not having my "facts straight," etc. Everything in that post, came from my mother's mouth. I watched her suffer when she found out her family was talking about her behind her back. I watched her curl up in her recliner and cry over the pain she felt over not being able to see her grandchildren when my brother kept them away from her. I watched her drink herself into a stupor because she was in so much pain over her past and the losses she suffered along the way.

One of my aunts from my father's side of the family confirmed that what I wrote was true as she spoke with my mom at great length about what happened to her. My mom was a lucky one, though. She found GOD. She found sobriety. She found peace even when she tried to reconcile with her father after 16 years of separation and met only hatred and anger. My mom was a GOOD woman who loved her children, her husband, her sisters, and her family. But she was never good enough for them. But she was damn good enough for me and my father.

I believe that my mother wanted her story shared. That she still wants it shared. How many kids could be saved by just telling one person about what happens at home behind closed doors? How many lifelong and deadly addictions to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain could be avoided by no longer allowing this to happen?

Read the letter my mom left for my brother and I. The very one I was told to keep secret and then told to burn when I decided I wouldn't hide her words anymore. I'm going to shout until the whole world hears what happened to my mom... what eventually led to her early and tragic death.

To my family: I'm not attacking you. I am not trying to hurt you. But I will not let my mom's story just disappear like you all would like it to. I won't sweep it under the rug anymore. She deserves some kind of justice. Someone to fight for her and stand up for her. I couldn't save my mother, but I will send this to the four corners of the earth if it means one child is spared the pain my mom went through. You want to challenge me and accuse me of "bringing the family down" with all of my lies? Knock yourself out. Just because you've bought me things or sent me money does not entitle you to control my life - who I date, where I work, how much money I make, and what I even post online. This life was given to me for a reason and I do not intend on spending it trying to be someone I am not.

********The post I am going to share contains graphic descriptions of my mother's abuse. If you have encountered any type of sexual assault or molestation, please be aware that this may cause triggers for you. If reading this causes too much pain, I urge you to take a step back give yourself a break. Just know that you are not and will never be alone in what you have gone through. ********


Chris helped me with this and posted it on his Tumbler blog (which you should really check out - he's a great writer) in an effort to protect me from any backlash. He offered to be the sacrificial lamb for the people who are angry about this letter. But as he protects me, I will protect him as well. All names and addresses have been blacked out to protect those involved. Please read this and share. My mom wanted her message to be heard. Help me help my mom the way I wasn't able to when she was alive.

https://davidvsgoliath.tumblr.com/post/160319329227/davidvsgoliath-graphic-content-the?og=1&fb_action_ids=10154656091795172&fb_action_types=tumblr-feed%3Areblog