I just fucking can’t.
Gas-lighting is the trendy new word for fucking up someone’s brain in a monstrous abusive way and is most often applied in romantic situations. I’ve been gaslit, I guess but the only time it has ever stood out was not with love but with ….oh, fuck, it still hurts…my daughter.
We can call her Kainat…gorgeous, brilliant, passionate, strong willed. She got most of that from me; I was Amazonian by force. I had to be - no one else was picking up a damn thing I dropped. (It dawns on me, it’s not arrogant to say she got that from me; her father was a prick who fucked off long before she could have learned a damn thing from him. To that end, shit, she got ALL of that from me. Even the gorgeous. You don’t like my brand of gorgeous? I don’t give a shit; I’m not selling it to you. Go find your own.)
When she hit her teens, she was a sweet southern Belle (having been born in the peach state) and as manipulative as a Jell-O cock sock. She told me I had memory problems so it made sense I didn’t remember how abusive I was to her…or how much I drank…or all the drugs (THAT one was the hardest for me since, at that time, the only drug in my life was weed and I didn’t really like it).
When…Amaya, her younger sister (just nine years old) was sexually assaulted, Kainat decided definitively her sister was lying (who the FUCK chooses a pervophile over family? Kainat had known this dried shit for three weeks!!) and conveniently chose THAT moment to tell me SHE herself had been raped in KINDERGARTEN. By a high school senior.
I am a certified rape crisis counselor. She could have told me she was raped by a submarine filled with gay unicorns with non-functional plaid wings and a love of kombucha and I would have to believe her. But I would not believe the fucking unicorns, fuckitdawl. Even BEFORE my training, I knew what the fuck rape looked like. I *HAVE* been raped. Repeatedly. Since childhood. I know what the fuck a survivor looks like and I DAMN sure know what a child survivor looks like… she didn’t over or under sexualize. Her demeanor, language and carriage remained identical. Most noticibly, she had never been in pain. A raped kindergartener…in no pain. Raped by a high school senior. RAPED BY A HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. RAPED. BY. A. HIGH. SCHOOL. SENIOR.
It was everything in my power not to scream "LIAAAARRRR" in her face. Not to want to strangle her for being so ugly around what was happening to her sister. Kainat was convinced the BabyLeech was innocent…until they caught him about a month later and he confessed to everything. Further, his sentence was extended twice as a result of…"inappropriate behavior" while incarcerated. I don’t even know what the fuck that means but the first time I heard it, I reenacted The Exorcist.
Now…now, Gods save me….Amaya is doing this stupid goth/emo bullshit. Fine. I’ll buy you all the Black Veil Princess or Ebony Scaled Gloom or whatever the fuck these bands are call shit you want. I won’t say it’s a phase. You want guitar lessons? BOOM. I ask one thing in return, ONE. Please, no zeros in class or on report cards. As a freshman, she took that request and wiped her ass with it.
Hookaay…this year, she is grinding! Great grades…well…good…not bad grades. I’m very proud and I tell her but she has her ear filter set to bullshit so all she hears is when I tell her to clean the garbage or put her dishes in the sink because even though I’m Brown I’m not the maid.
Today, my boy Magic Mike (my son, Lucian) gets hiccups before bed so I send him to the kitchen for water and there’s Amaya and my tenant yelling at him to go to bed. He panics (ADHD) and just stutters, "I… I’m drinking water…?" I run in to save the kid and Amaya says, "well, why didn’t he just SAY that?"
I respond, "Like all the times you just SAY when he asks you stuff?"
Amaya: he didn’t have to ignore me. I don’t ignore him.
Me: You…HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what? Are you…you was serious about dat?
Her: …
Me: Wait, really?
Her: ok, fine, I’m an awful sister, you happy?
Me: I didn’t say that. I just was surprised to hear you say you don’t ignore him.
Her: He ignores me too, ya know.
Me: I didn’t say anything about that either. I was just taken off guard by you saying you didn’t.
Her: … I never said I don’t ignore….
Me: …
She stops.
I go kiss her goodnight and tell her I’m going to bed. I make it half way done the hall when she mutters something.
Me: Excuse me? (I say this very gently, I’m out of wire hangers.)
Her: Nothing.
Me: If it was important enough to say, it’s important enough to be heard.
Her: It doesn’t matter. Forget it.
Me: *rock eyebrow*
Her: FINE. I got an A on my bio test and it raised my whole grade but it doesn’t matter. It’s no big deal.
Folks, I lost my shit. I am constantly telling this girl she’s worth it, she’s smart, she’s talented, she’s better than just looks, she’s got a brilliant mind and she’s gonna bullshit me with this "it’s no big deal" horseshittery? So later she can fling it in my face that she’s busting her ass and all I do is yell at her and never notice her successes?
I lost it. I just screamed, "WHY IS IT NO BIG DEAL??" I turned and ran into my room and just screamed "WHYYYY" because I was so fucking hurt…I just can’t be tricked into thinking I’m the worst mom ever again….as much as I love them and as much as I’m hurting…If I *am* the worst…
I’ll leave.
Gas-lighting is the trendy new word for fucking up someone’s brain in a monstrous abusive way and is most often applied in romantic situations. I’ve been gaslit, I guess but the only time it has ever stood out was not with love but with ….oh, fuck, it still hurts…my daughter.
We can call her Kainat…gorgeous, brilliant, passionate, strong willed. She got most of that from me; I was Amazonian by force. I had to be - no one else was picking up a damn thing I dropped. (It dawns on me, it’s not arrogant to say she got that from me; her father was a prick who fucked off long before she could have learned a damn thing from him. To that end, shit, she got ALL of that from me. Even the gorgeous. You don’t like my brand of gorgeous? I don’t give a shit; I’m not selling it to you. Go find your own.)
When she hit her teens, she was a sweet southern Belle (having been born in the peach state) and as manipulative as a Jell-O cock sock. She told me I had memory problems so it made sense I didn’t remember how abusive I was to her…or how much I drank…or all the drugs (THAT one was the hardest for me since, at that time, the only drug in my life was weed and I didn’t really like it).
When…Amaya, her younger sister (just nine years old) was sexually assaulted, Kainat decided definitively her sister was lying (who the FUCK chooses a pervophile over family? Kainat had known this dried shit for three weeks!!) and conveniently chose THAT moment to tell me SHE herself had been raped in KINDERGARTEN. By a high school senior.
I am a certified rape crisis counselor. She could have told me she was raped by a submarine filled with gay unicorns with non-functional plaid wings and a love of kombucha and I would have to believe her. But I would not believe the fucking unicorns, fuckitdawl. Even BEFORE my training, I knew what the fuck rape looked like. I *HAVE* been raped. Repeatedly. Since childhood. I know what the fuck a survivor looks like and I DAMN sure know what a child survivor looks like… she didn’t over or under sexualize. Her demeanor, language and carriage remained identical. Most noticibly, she had never been in pain. A raped kindergartener…in no pain. Raped by a high school senior. RAPED BY A HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. RAPED. BY. A. HIGH. SCHOOL. SENIOR.
It was everything in my power not to scream "LIAAAARRRR" in her face. Not to want to strangle her for being so ugly around what was happening to her sister. Kainat was convinced the BabyLeech was innocent…until they caught him about a month later and he confessed to everything. Further, his sentence was extended twice as a result of…"inappropriate behavior" while incarcerated. I don’t even know what the fuck that means but the first time I heard it, I reenacted The Exorcist.
Now…now, Gods save me….Amaya is doing this stupid goth/emo bullshit. Fine. I’ll buy you all the Black Veil Princess or Ebony Scaled Gloom or whatever the fuck these bands are call shit you want. I won’t say it’s a phase. You want guitar lessons? BOOM. I ask one thing in return, ONE. Please, no zeros in class or on report cards. As a freshman, she took that request and wiped her ass with it.
Hookaay…this year, she is grinding! Great grades…well…good…not bad grades. I’m very proud and I tell her but she has her ear filter set to bullshit so all she hears is when I tell her to clean the garbage or put her dishes in the sink because even though I’m Brown I’m not the maid.
Today, my boy Magic Mike (my son, Lucian) gets hiccups before bed so I send him to the kitchen for water and there’s Amaya and my tenant yelling at him to go to bed. He panics (ADHD) and just stutters, "I… I’m drinking water…?" I run in to save the kid and Amaya says, "well, why didn’t he just SAY that?"
I respond, "Like all the times you just SAY when he asks you stuff?"
Amaya: he didn’t have to ignore me. I don’t ignore him.
Me: You…HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what? Are you…you was serious about dat?
Her: …
Me: Wait, really?
Her: ok, fine, I’m an awful sister, you happy?
Me: I didn’t say that. I just was surprised to hear you say you don’t ignore him.
Her: He ignores me too, ya know.
Me: I didn’t say anything about that either. I was just taken off guard by you saying you didn’t.
Her: … I never said I don’t ignore….
Me: …
She stops.
I go kiss her goodnight and tell her I’m going to bed. I make it half way done the hall when she mutters something.
Me: Excuse me? (I say this very gently, I’m out of wire hangers.)
Her: Nothing.
Me: If it was important enough to say, it’s important enough to be heard.
Her: It doesn’t matter. Forget it.
Me: *rock eyebrow*
Her: FINE. I got an A on my bio test and it raised my whole grade but it doesn’t matter. It’s no big deal.
Folks, I lost my shit. I am constantly telling this girl she’s worth it, she’s smart, she’s talented, she’s better than just looks, she’s got a brilliant mind and she’s gonna bullshit me with this "it’s no big deal" horseshittery? So later she can fling it in my face that she’s busting her ass and all I do is yell at her and never notice her successes?
I lost it. I just screamed, "WHY IS IT NO BIG DEAL??" I turned and ran into my room and just screamed "WHYYYY" because I was so fucking hurt…I just can’t be tricked into thinking I’m the worst mom ever again….as much as I love them and as much as I’m hurting…If I *am* the worst…
I’ll leave.
