Updated: Mar 25
Now that this is my own personal blog not just some portfolio for a Masters degree I'll never use, allow me to yell at nobody for everything. Nobody knows about my experiences and they judge me by my naive appearance and that pisses me off so here is what the hell I've been through. If I seem flippant it is a coping mechanism similar to what I assume comedians employ because I'm actually hilarious in everyday life (modest, too). I do look naive, however, I do not have a family and now I'm only just 13 years away from the age my dad died. I've had a bad life. Like, I could not make this shit up if I tried. This blog post might be triggering (and too long) for some. This is not meant to be a whiny diatribe and I'm not complaining, I'm honestly just still working through things. I know my privilege.
Growing up poor in a Lutheran, Military household I had become accustomed to shame, guilt, punishment, neglectful adults, and rough neighborhoods. All of my neighborhood friends on South Idalia Street in Aurora were beat by their fathers who also sold heroin or cocaine and had dog fights (Pinschers, Pits, and Rotties of course). The Chow Chows next door shredded my pet cat in my yard right in front of my face, guts flying everywhere! My best friend Bubba's dad raped his sister and all us kids heard about it. My friend with a pool and trampoline, Anna, got the belt daily. Best friends Ashley and Kimberly had troublemaker older brothers and would take shits in my backyard, or try to watch us undress during sleepovers. Kimberly Ann had her house vandalized and broken in to. Samantha's parents were the only smart Democrats in the neighborhood but my mother hated them. Jessie's big brother poisoned my little sister, who had to be rushed to the hospital to get her stomach pumped.
My mother was abusive and my father, in the Army, was never really there. They tried beating me once but I think my dad cried. Once in high school they tried to starve me by only buying meat for a month when I said I was a queer vegan. I dropped down to 83 pounds at 5'7". The abuse was psychological, mainly. I called my mother Queen of Gaslighting. She could convince anyone to believe they were going insane. We were "house poor" and my parents could never seem to stop spending, and they could never seem to get themselves out of debt.
My father was forced into an Army recruiter job and we moved to northern Colorado. This was due to the onset of Lyme disease, which he contracted on a training mission in Arkansas when he was hit over the head with a beer bottle in a swamp, then bitten by a tick. Another fun story was when he fell out of a helicopter... for another time (I have the door to this helicopter!). Lyme disease somehow mutated into type 2 Diabetes although my father was extremely underweight his whole life and I do not understand this. Eventually he was honorably discharged from the Army after 17 years and countless roles (Airborne Corps). This sent him into a deep spiral of depression and alcoholism. He could not afford insulin and for the most part denied that he was sick.
After years of daily screaming, eventually my two unequally terrible parents divorced and since the age of 17 I lived mainly with friends on their couches, and occasionally with my father. All republicans are trained to play the victim role in order to justify their hatred. My mother, very skilled at playing the victim, served my father divorce papers while he was undergoing psychiatric evaluation at a hospital for being suicidal, and they divorced in 2003. This is due to her extreme internal guilt (never fully recognized) for cheating on my father with the misogynist across the street, Gary.
I basically crushed high school then later my dad was the only one who supported me in going to college at CU Boulder (instead of the Air Force, my backup option). Seemingly all at once, my grandmother on my mom's side passed away by stroke. Then my dog I had since birth died. Then my grandfather on my dad's side dropped dead. Then I smashed my arm in a bicycle accident and it's now partially metal. Then my house was destroyed in a flood and a shitty roommate stole the entire FEMA relief fund and paid off her goddamn bills. Then to top it ALL off my father died. All before sophomore year at CU.
My father was hospitalized every month leading up to his death at 43 years old. Each month the fire truck, sherif, and/ or ambulance would show up to his house to take away his many guns and haul him away to get help. My father was extremely interesting. For example, he was raised on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation in Montana and he had 7 middle names (but went by Cameron Novatus Provin Minard for simplicity). He was proud of his Cajun French roots and was an amazing cook and artist. He taught me oil painting and watercoloring which I still attempt from time to time.
Diabetic ketoacidosis is a life-threatening problem that affects people with diabetes. It occurs when the body starts breaking down fat at a rate that is much too fast. The liver processes the fat into a fuel called ketones, which causes the blood to become acidic. My father notoriously would not eat and I also share his dislike of having to consume mostly boring food fuel to live. My father's body was found on Easter 2012 when some family was supposed to gather. He had been dead for at least a week, nobody checked on him. He had remarried another woman and was divorced a second time by then. My mother never cared that he died. She didn't show any remorse or sympathy, and barely talked to us kids about it- because she wanted him dead. I had to attend his funeral alone and I left early, alone.
Nobody on my dad's side of the family ever spoke to me again...
Meanwhile, as a latchkey kid my whole life I ran into plenty of bad men and was raped and sexually assaulted more than once. I never told anyone because there are no classes for children titled "People You Trust are More Likely to Rape You" or "What Constitutes Rape and What to do About it". I have PTSD that is ongoing and I will be taking medication daily for the rest of my life. I have extreme anxiety and depression as well. I take many medications daily in order to not want to die, and to not freak out on men everyday and threaten their lives before they can do so to me. So, yes, if you're wondering, I do hate the toxic type/ most all of men.
I've also had to experience some fun workplace gender discrimination, yipee! Complaints were filed and no party found wrongdoing. The company changed their policy out of fear immediately after I quit. April 2017 I left my planetarium astronomer DREAM JOB of 6 years because I inadvertently found out a male colleague in the same position as myself, was getting paid a whopping $5 more per hour than me. This was at Fiske Planetarium on the CU Boulder campus so don't support that trash establishment as the management does not believe in equal pay for equal work.
I have attempted suicide and I think it was Halloween 2018 when the police came to my apartment to take me to a hospital. I told them to basically fuck off (privilege admitted) because surprisingly, a cop holding a gun did not help me want to live. Mental health crisis intervention in the U.S. is to send two racist cops to your house to point a gun at you... just in case you might lunge at them? I'm not sure. Why are all cops so scared of everyone all of the time? One of the Boulder cops called my birthplace, Aurora, "Saudi-Aurora" due to the high population of Muslims and, I guess, crime rates? Not really sure. I should have reported them but again I was suicidal, weak, and scared that cops were threatening me with a gun.
Recently my trash mother decided to try and steal my and my sister's inheritance. After my father died I gave my car to my little sister and I allowed my mother and her new husband to live in my father's empty house. They became white supremacists due to my garbage grandfather deciding to reside in the house without my permission (the bastard said that he's "to the right of Hitler" (??). So these idiots lost the legal battle and I got my father's house back, allowing me to split the proceeds of the sale with my sister and securing her portion of the inheritance. I am now gutting and renovating the house and I'm going to live where all this shit went down. This is making it sound easy. I was in a legal battle from October 2019, and it is finally winding down in February 2020. This was/is extremely costly, emotionally exhausting, & psychologically and physically stressful.
How am I doing now? I feel that I am definitely queerish- maybe either bisexual or even polyamorous or asexual, and how should I know? I was denied a childhood and adolescence to fully explore who the fuck I really am. So I just decide to not get close to anyone ever. After countless hours of therapists and psychiatrists validating my trauma and experiences, I feel that I'm set off on "the right course," whatever that is. I now "own" my father's house and a cool used truck so, I guess, yay. I'm doing better than some millennials and worse than others (see my $150K+ student loan debt from in-state schools). I also have a surrogate family and wonderful support system for the first time in my life, and I have amazing pets that make me smile each day. I am trying to mold my life into one I can be fine with for however much time left I have on this burning planet. Although, I have very low energy at all times. My depression comes in waves, most extreme during fall and spring.
How is my sister? I don't know, if you find her please ask. She told me to fuck off while she consorts with our mother, the homophobic white supremacist, just because she's alive and our father is dead. "But Aimee, she's our only parent left!" Sometimes, you just get handed a shit life and you have to move on without parents. I have no room for fascists, racists, bigots or their enablers in my life. This is sad, obviously, but we were never going to be best friends as she has always distrusted me and is 6 years younger. Bye forever, I guess? Not my choice.
Soul crushing thoughts race into my head each morning as I wake up, often between 3 and 5am, gasping for a breath. I have to shove them way far down, drowning the thoughts in sickly sweet determination and furious rage. I have regrets about not taking chances, and about not fighting back. I have let people I love walk out of my life, I've even shoved them out. I have let people I love believe I don't love them. My lodestar has... canceled me. Each morning I wake up and I'm able to read less and less news due to broiling anxiety. I take long walks with my puppy, the easiest meditation possible. My indignant, righteous anger makes me reject positivity and any person trying to help me. Do not tell me to try harder to meditate or do stupid shit to make myself feel better like go to the doctor and dentist. I generally do not accept help. I know I'm not important.
When I was young growing up I was in wonder of everything and I wanted to learn everything. Everything was a piece of art, from an abandoned farmhouse to a glimmer from broken mirror in an alley. Did you know that during a partial or full eclipse you can use the light coming through holes in leaves of trees to safely view hundreds of tiny eclipses on the ground?
Now maybe everything can just fuck off and burn because we're all dying and nothing matters. Trump needs to be assassinated so if someone could jump on that, that'd be great.
We're literally bacteria bags of watery coagulated star stuff. Someone wise once said the universe is ignorant to our sorrows and indifferent to our pains.
Get to it. Get after it. Fuck shit up. Be honest. Do good. Try harder. You can be better. You must be better. Annihilate fascists. Murder the patriarchy. BE BRAVE, above all. And have a wonderful day.