Monday, January 9, 2012 07:48 pm EDT
Woke up at 1:54 am, and as usual, they’re on my mind. X is there, pretending to sleep. I’m assuming that she’s just waiting for me to bitch her out so she has an excuse to get up and “defend herself against such lies.” I didn’t take the bait. Her son, FF, was harassing my mother, and since I wasn’t taking the bait, somebody had to shout out a key word and that word was Egypt. What do I think of Egypt? It reminds me of doing a bulletin board when in the sixth grade. They love that age in my life, don’t know why, but they’ve been screwed up on so much about me that I don’t really care anymore. Anything they choose is something they use to cause trouble.
And there was the usual threat of “wait until you live alone.” I guess they have a lot of harassment for me to remember then. X wants me to “wake up” tinkerbell. What? The fairy drag stuff they’ve made me copy and they repeat when they want. I just asked her why she would want me to wake up tinkerbell? They don’t like questions, so I’ll just throw some at them as often as possible.
And that woman from McC’s was there, too. Evidently, it didn’t matter that yesterday I chose to stay with X and get harassed by her instead of choosing to go with that woman and join the queers. She’s only covering her own ass for what she did to me at McC’s (see previous posts). I’ll throw questions at her, too, but it’s always too late since everything’s been preplanned and probably over and done with by the time I start remembering. She’s just beating a dead horse.
I’m not going to go out to dinner or anything with my mother as they’ve suggested. They get me to imagine, or actually do it in real life, that this woman who is there at the warehouse whom I cannot stand (no one likes her) suggests that I go to a movie. Not happening and they know it, they just want me to get pissed at this woman and cause trouble with her in real life. That’s not happening either. While I was thinking that I can’t stand that woman, some guy who might have been her husband, or something, said, “I hope you commit suicide over her.” Really?
That’s not something I would do. My way of solving problems is to get away from whatever or whoever causes me trouble and never go back. But, it’s always been that troublemaker from McC’s to end all the problems she brings up with, “See, it’s just going to make him kill himself.” She wants everything to end that way. But she doesn’t tell them that she and her cohorts harassed and badgered me at the store until she got what she wanted. She always counts on the gullibility of her “helpers.” That they’ll take her word for everything, or make them believe what she shows them, even though it’s nothing but manipulation. And her ever popular “it’s either her way or the hospital.” It’s going to be neither.
So some woman started in screaming about how she wants me in therapy right now. Not happening. And what would be the focus of this therapy? Let me guess. It’ll be pushing their gay agenda on me. Again. I’m not naive when it comes to those people. Like I mentioned before, I cut the dead wood out of my life about two decades ago and it included those people. I went to three sessions with a counselor and quit. It was stupid. Why go over the same stuff that I’ve known all my life anyway? I’m not going to see those things any differently than I do now. And their endless cycle of harassment isn’t going to change my views either, despite their ability to make me think and say the things I don’t believe in.
After almost 30 years of her harassment, she still tries to justify her illegal actions at the McC’s by manipulating me in any way she can. This woman is just covering her ass and X’s ass and my sister T, who was (or still is, I don’t know) a friend of hers. I already wrote about X, the facts of which they probably already screwed around into being what it’s not (nothing I can do about that) and now it’s time to write about sister T.
Since these friends of T make sure that I go through humiliation and degradation and constantly push their agenda on me, I have nothing to lose. They screw my life up no matter what I do. I’m sure they’re already to, or already have, humiliated me in public as retaliation.
She was the most horrid thing in my life. Nothing but harassment from her as long as I can remember. When I was nine and she was about 18, she screamed and yelled that she was, “Going to cut off my balls and nail them to the wall. One of these days, you’re going to wake up and you’ll be dead.” I jumped out and scared her, so she freaked.
Her favorite thing was to scream at me that I was a faggot. I didn’t know what that meant, I was about nine, so I looked it up in the dictionary. She probably even spelled it for me. According to her and this dictionary from the mid-sixties, I was a bundle of sticks. I didn’t get it. So, she said she knew that I was because she knows that “you suck...” My mom pushed me out of the room and told her to shut up.
She used to paint my nails (my left hand, complete with polka dots) and send me outside to “show the neighborhood what a faggot you are.” And I did. And they did laugh at me. When my father came home, he yelled at her to take it off. But she didn’t have any nail polish remover, so my other sister G, who was always stuck in the middle of our fights, had to go to the drug store to get some. So T removed her handiwork and cried, because she just couldn’t see anything wrong with pushing that onto little kids who don’t even know that it’s a campaign of humiliation.
She loved putting a dress on me (see 1967 post about first grade) when I was seven to about nine or ten. I’ve posted about this before. And they always called out, “company’s coming,” if some friends of my parents were coming over, and I’d take it off. It stopped at around age nine and was replace with a pacifier for a while.
Nine years older than me and she was always scratching or clawing her nail into my forearm. I never hit her then, but probably just jumping out and scaring her was enough. I remember one time I got it good. She clawed my face while my parents were away and left a big, deep scratch on my face. I had a scar there for a long time. So she got out her harassment accessories, but this time her makeup was used to cover her latest handiwork. Powder everywhere covered it, but not too well, since when my parents came home for that one, they were pissed all over again. Strange, but I never thought to tell on her. I was in the sixth grade at the time, and the teacher leaned over and asked where I got that scratch. I wasn’t ready and didn’t think that anyone would ask, but I immediately said, “I was climbing a fence and got cut.” Surprisingly quick. She didn’t believe me. I was pretty overweight at the time and never climbed the fence at school like the other kids did, but that was the first thing that came to mind.
She loved drawing cartoons of fat kids and say it was me.
She had a stroke when I was ten, she had just turned 19, I believe. She was paralyzed on her left side. I remember going to the hospital with my parents, sitting in the waiting room. When they told me that she was paralyzed and couldn’t move her arm, the first thing I said was, “Good. Now she can’t hit me.” My aunt and uncle were there at the time, it was in the hospital waiting room, and they told me to never say that, those things never happened. Strange that my principal at the time happened to be there because of her husband, I think, and when my mom saw her, my mom looked disgusted. She probably remembered her from the first grade incident (see previous post).
So, the doctors told my parents to put her in a home, but they brought her home. And the fighting continued. Nothing was good enough for her. I remember my parents coming home from visiting friends of theirs and T insisted that she wanted strawberries from the garden and my mom should go outside in the dark and get some for her. And my mom did.
There were the usual fights, even when her friends came over. I was sitting on the couch and she told me to get away. I refused, and then she told her friends that on the count of three, “come on girls, let’s strip him.” And when she reached for me, I kicked her. Her friends were shocked, I wasn’t.
There was a good fight once, and my sister G called the people my parents were visiting. When they came home, my dad smacked her with his belt and broke the door down to the bathroom where I was, and smacked me a couple of times, too.
I remember when she moved out, and my sister J and I stayed overnight at her apartment. I was in the living room and she and J were in her bedroom. Of course, she started in with, “We can hear you masturbating in there.” I wasn’t. And then she starts with making loud panting noises. J must have been about 8 or 9 at the time.
Thank God she moved away about 1975 or 1976. Hundreds of miles away. Didn’t think much of her after that, but of course, those people at the store incident just had to bring her up (see previous posts). There, at that time, some guy was there, not Fatso, who demanded I make a list of all the people I hate. She was at the top of my list. Of course, he wanted it to be a list of all the people I want to kill, or at least go after. He said that I caused her stroke. I said, I’ll take the credit for that, and laughed. He went ballistic and probably still does.
She was born sick. Spina bifida and heart troubles I think, and the hypocrite that she is, she showed me a letter to a magazine that they published. In it she said she was born like that, and with the help of “loving parents” she......I about puked. She has never had anything good to say about her parents. Called them ogres, in fact. But that’s the way she is. If anything caused her stroke, it wasn’t me. Where I work now, it happens that the people who lived in the house behind us also worked there (they’re gone now). It was a while before they knew who I was, and they asked about my sisters. I don’t see them much, blah, blah, blah. Then he asked about T and “didn’t she have a stroke because of drugs?” I said no, she had it in the hospital when she had pneumonia.
She had been living away from home for at least a year, so we didn’t even see each other much then, then she moved back post-stroke for about three years and then out on her own again. I do remember the time, this was post-stroke, I was about 14 and she was living on her own, but came over to pick up the mother she hates so much, and sat at the kitchen table and started in on her favorite subject which is calling me a fag. “Look how you’re sitting. You a fag.” etc, etc. I took the chocolate milk I had, threw it in her face and smacked her. Wasted a good glass of chocolate milk.
Now, this incident is one of their favorites to harass me with. I remember walking downstairs a couple of years ago. It was a Sunday, and my sisters G and J were working my mother over. They saw me walk in and I looked at what they were doing, which was putting stockings on my mom’s foot. I looked and walked towards the kitchen to get something to drink. They started in with, “Why isn’t he falling asleep?” When I turned around, G was pointing at me and told me to go to sleep, which I didn’t. She waved the hem of her dress at me, and I shrugged like, “So what? You’re wearing a dress.” Then J, I think it was, must have started calling me a fag, because I was making the slapping motions that I did as described above. I knew what imprint they were using and I just went to the refrigerator, got my soda pop, and went back in the living room. J went to the phone to report to someone that I wasn’t falling asleep, I wasn’t cooperating. Then, some guy was standing in the kitchen and G, J, and some guy, either G‘s or J’s boyfriend, filed past me and the guy was saying, as they passed by me, “Remember him (the guy). Remember her (G). Remember her (J).” When J passed by me, she said, “See KS.” Meaning, she should look like KS, so she has that, “He doesn’t recognize us,” so, that proves he’s nuts.
And this is really the creepiest thing about being stuck with the harassers I got. How utterly weird, unnerving, flesh-crawling is it that my sister T is so interested in what my sex life is? Even considering that she put me in dresses, once said, "we can hear you masturbating in there," when I spent the night at her apartment once along with my younger sister. I did talk to her on the phone when she would call me on my birthday, and she always has to throw in things like "your dick was so small that when you were born the doctors didn't know if you were a boy or a girl. I know, I used to change your diapers." And the “You’re crazy,” etc, etc. The last time I talked to her was about three years ago, when she called on my birthday. That was when pulled out the previous quote and, of course, just goes on and on about how I would love it in whatever city, because they have same sex benefits and I would just love it in whatever city because they have gay marriage. Who cares? I could not care less about their agenda, and it sounds too weird that she really thinks reality is going to morph into what her imagination is demanding.
So, this is why, for the most part I think, that her friends are still harassing me. T should be the last person who I'd want to hear from and they know that, and in my opinion, they are just using her to screw me up whenever they think they need to. They can’t see past her stroke and won’t tolerate anyone telling the truth. So be it. Let them take it out on me. I don’t go anywhere, I don’t know anyone, and I don’t care anymore about their harassment. And as I say, I have nothing to lose because they will harass and humiliate me anyway and I’m used to it. Yeah, after almost thirty years of their constant “treatment”, I am now crazy enough that I choose to live like this instead of accepting their lies.
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