A year ago, I wrote an article about people that are toxic in life. It is hard to draw a line even when toxic. This is a part of my story.
Circles of Hell
WARNING: PTSD, OCD, Chronic Anxiety, Mature Language. Consider yourself warned.
I do not enjoy talking about myself or my life. I like to keep my privacy within the walls of my house and a quite tight circle of people. It is hard for me to accept what my life became and where I am heading.
With that said, and this is where it gets trickier for me. I do not believe in a “higher purpose” or that “everything happens for a reason.” I do not think we are born with a predestined path to follow.
I have more of a scientific mind when it comes to life, and my approach to it is “it happened because it happened.” You have the choice of left or right, but that is your choice, not fate or destiny.
It doesn’t mean that once you are born because you have no purpose, there is no point in living. You choose to do with your life what you will and come what may you decide in the end if you matter or not. That is the beauty and cruelty of life…to me.
“You control your destiny—you don’t need magic to do it. And there are no magical shortcuts to solving your problems.”Walt Disney, Brave, Merida
Dante’s Inferno says there are nine circles in Hell. Sometimes I believe that I might fall right to the bottom of it all. Nobody’s sinless, and my hands are no cleaner than another. But what happened to me recently showed me that Hell is not as deep as one might think.
Six Feet Deep
To explain my pain and guilt, I must first say that I am an only child, and so is my mother. When she was pregnant with me at a young age, surprise-surprise, the father abandoned her.
She lived with her parents, who ended up raising me so her life could continue, as it should have had without me.
Now that it’s out of the way, after both my grandparents passed, it hit me, “I’m kind of an orphan.”
The pain is real even though my mother is alive and well. The hole is present and is not going away. One would think my mother would reach out to me, and she did for a short while, but then it turned to radio silent.
“The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.”Walt Disney, Pirates of the Caribbean, Captain Jack Sparrow
Her husband takes much space in her life. It is all right. I am not a child, nor am I a young adult. I am married and share a pretty house with the love of my life in the sticks accompanied by our dog, Carey.
But, I felt shun as if dead while alive. I am a convenience when wanted and cast in the shadow once my part is played.
Maybe I’m just digging my own grave without the knowledge of it.
Dig Deeper Creep
My mother’s husband, let’s call him Mr. X, was not a fan of me right off the bat. I’m in my mid-thirties, he met me. I was maybe twenty-eight. I wear DC Comics, Walt Disney, Monster High, True Blood, Star Trek clothing.
There are things I don’t like mentioning because it sounds condescending or as if I’m showing off. I usually keep my mouth shut. I’m not someone who likes having the spotlight of their heads.
Yes, my knowledge of science, ancient history, and speculative science. When I was a kid, my grandmother did—for real—had me tested to know if I was crazy. I was not, but the results proved that my IQ was above average close to the qualifications of “Smart.”
“It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness; that is life.”Star Trek The Next Generation, Captain Jean-Luc Picard
Many factors came in to play, I am a lefty, and the brain must adapt at a young age in a world that seems to be acting in reverse. I grew up in art, so the brain develops skills younger than most.
I had fascinations surrounding nightmares, terrors, horror, death, and the unexplained. I watched shows going from Beyond Belief to Mythbusters and everything in between to learn about myths and legends.
One of my greatest passions is vampires due to their presence in ancient civilizations from around the world, I’m talking from Africa to Australia, Denmark, to Brazil going back millennia.
He qualified me as a creep.
Someone Needs A Therapist
To pile on with subjects that rubbed me the wrong way with Mr. X was his disdain of the French people. Although living in Quebec, which is an Eastern French province in Canada, despises French married my mother, a Frenchwoman.
My grandfather was raised in French and born Mohawk. My grandmother was raised English but learned French as an Acadian woman from the Maritime province of New Brunswick. My mother learned both languages, but as she grew older, she used less of her English and turned more French.
As for me, I learned English at a young age, mostly on my own, and I’m married to an Englishman born in Quebec—he also knows how to speak, read and write French.
“Life’s not a spectator sport. If watchin’ is all you’re gonna do, then you’re gonna watch your life go by without ya.”Walt Disney, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Laverne
I was raised not to judge anyone by where they are from but to be curious about the world. I did not travel much, but I met people from everywhere. I accomplished more to this day than many dream to achieve in their whole life and I am grateful for that.
Mr. X traveled a lot all of his life and ended up working for Air Canada that permits him to travel even more. He never let an opportunity go to waste for reminding me that I am close-minded for not visiting.
Sorry, I do not have the money to do so. Not everyone can decide one morning to go have dinner in England.
His misogynist tendencies showed when I noticed how much he would respect the opinion of my husband or another man but not the woman. My mother is submissive; I am not.
“If you don’t think, then you shouldn’t talk.”Walt Disney, Alice In Wonderland, March Hare
My grandmother was an active feminist, and my grandfather taught me how a man should treat a woman: equally in every single way. That was not what I witnessed.
Years In The Making
Every time seeing my mother meant to see Mr. X, which triggered my PTSD, chronic anxiety, and the desire to enroll in the MMA to beat the shit out of someone.
I have acute IBS, gluten, and lactose intolerances, I cannot digest meat, and that had him make fun of me and not miss one opportunity to point it out to everyone when gathering would occur.
Mr. X took quite an evil pleasure in poking the bear in me for years now. Every chance he got at reminding me I’m not traveling, “This one is special she can’t eat anything,” my clothing style, interests, or my family’s white trash.
He might not like you if you are not of his family or circle or English Canadian with a penis. That should be his warning label.
He hurt me for the last time a few days ago. My closest friends heard me for years, speaking of him driving me insane. He hated my grandpa—my Mufasa, not only because he was French but also because he was Native but had no proof.
“Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it or learn from it.”Walt Disney, The Lion King, Rafiki
My husband and I gave him a wake-up call when telling him he had the DNA test done, and so did many of his sisters and brothers.
Side note: I do not need to prove shit to anyone when it comes to my bloodline. He wanted me to take the test to determine my grandpa was Native. Guess what, I need no proof; my grandpa’s word is enough for me.
Every Choice Has A Price
It wasn’t enough to shit all over my grandfather’s bloodline or marry my mother as a trophy: you know, an Englishman marrying a French Native to prove he’s smarter than anyone else.
He had to massacre the house that builds me and call it, “It’s just a pile of money for me. We do renovations for the value. I do not care about the house.”
He hates my French, my bloodline, my clothes, my mental/digestive problems, my sex, my music, that I don’t drink, don’t smoke, and basically my entire life. So, why in the nine circles of Hell did I let this man in my life? I did it for my mother. But it was enough.
Mr. X says he likes to debate, but what’s a debate if all one does is poking the bear? Also, what is a debate if the person cannot, for the life of themselves, let you try to make your point? But instead, raise their voices over yours to make their point?
“I’m only brave when I have to be. Being brave doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble.”Walt Disney, The Lion King, Mufasa
He said because I did mention my IQ, my many certificates and advanced studies, that I know what I’m talking about when it comes to French people and Native Americans, “You can’t accept that you can’t win.”
Whatever, I’m not going to fight for that. However, he dared to mention Native Americans and my husband gave him a warning not to go there because I know the behind the scenes.
Two words in, and I walked away.
Run To The Hills
I packed up my stuff and left the house. I wished my mother, who walked away from the confrontation almost immediately, to say I had to go and never come back. I took the decision for my sanity. Every time I stood in front of Mr. X was like I was skinned alive.
I could overlook many things, but my grandpa is my Mufasa, my King Triton, I will defend him until my last breath. Mr. X didn’t stop at the heating conversation or me being a “sore loser,” even though that wasn’t debate, it was a lost cause from the beginning.
He walked outside and ordered me off the land that raised me. He insulted my intelligence, choice of clothing, and more as I was walking toward the car. My husband stopped him right after he gave me the finger. My mother stood there. I knew I was alone.
I wish my mother love, happiness, and joy for the rest of her days. I can hope she realizes that her husband suffers from much insecurity and needs professional help in the anger department. Wanting to continually have “debates,” the incapability to recognize someone else’s argument to be valid even though that so-said person has a vagina, is a problem.
“Sometimes the right path is not the easiest one.”Walt Disney, Pocahontas, Grandmother
As of today, they are both blocked from my life. It is not a question of time because it is not reversible. One can only give a hand so many times before the person decides to drown. I can’t let my mother drag me down with her. Mr. X was slowly killing me. Now, I must live with my choice: no more of them in my life.
I will be okay.