
I have three sisters: 2 half sisters and 1 step sister: K, J, and S.
Yesterday I added K's daughter, my niece, to my new Facebook profile--what a doll! I considered adding J yesterday, but I hesitated because she and her mother, M, are Christofacists (my word for Fundamentalist Christians)...and I am a lesbian.
You see, I am the lone democrat in my family; makes sense since I'm the lone queer. Fine. My mother, father, and step-father are conservatives but not hate-mongers. We don't agree on politics and some or all of them may wish I wasn't gay and/or believe I'm gay because I was sexually abused by 4 different people between the years of 4 and 13, but they are decent people with the ability to see gays as human beings just like them...at least mostly. This is not the case for my step-monster and her daughter. They see my sexual orientation as my "lifestyle choice" not simply a part of me as unchanging as my skin color. In short: same story, different person.
So, I hesitated because if I did that then that would probably lead her here and this place is my place to just verbally vomit—so, don’t expect greatness. I’m not writing this blog to impress anyone or hone my writing skills; my fictional writing does the later and I’m not interested in the former. Today I said "fuck it" and added her.
The thing is: I wish we could have a good relationship and that she could meet K and me on the level that we're just women with the same father—sisters—but I'm not holding out hope for that.
Does that make me cynical? Maybe, but if you were me you’d be cynical, too. So, I added her because I should; she is my sister and even though I don’t know her I still love her and wish the absolute best for her in whatever endeavor—whatever makes her happy I hope that it always does and that she lives a far happier life than I have thus far. We all deserve happiness.
This way she can keep up with me...and maybe she’ll read this. If she does, she does. If it hurts her, it hurts her. If she discovers things that she doesn’t know then I’m happy to be the bearer of truth. John 8:36 – “And Jesus said ‘And ye shall know the truth and the truth will set you free.’”
So, here’s some truth:
1. Her mother got involved with my father while my parents were still married. I was a 1 year old baby. I just learned this 3 days ago: that’s how well communications flows in my family.
2. Our father has been married 3 times, not 2 times. My mom was his second wife, something he didn't tell my mom about. As far as I know he was still legally married to his first wife when he married my mom, and at some point she found out. My knowledge of this is still sketchy; it’s one of the laundry list of things I’m trying to discover.
3. I was given less than $5000 from our father for college and made to feel guilty and stingy and unworthy of this money from her mother. J went to school on the other side of the country for $20,000 a year. UPDATE: She owes 20k. They owe nearly 100k. Her mother called K, crying, and said that J would never speak to our father again if he didn't come up with the $$$. The purpose of this conversation was to get K's husband's SSN and to ask if he would co-sign for a loan. The agreement for me was that my mother would pay for the first 2 years and my father would pay for the last 2; if it took me longer then I would have to pay for that. My mom and her husband resented having to take out loans for my education; they are stingy and selfish, self-admittedly. But, they did it and I was able to go, live there, and have a meal plan.
When it came time for my 3rd year and my father couldn't get the money the trouble began. He paid for the first semester, about $3,900 and then he sent me $50 every 2 weeks for food. I had to get loans for the last semester and for my fourth year. Fine; I’ve worked and paid them off myself, but K never got a chance to go to school and no one called anyone crying for me. The step-mother never would have supported me if I suddenly stopped speaking to my father. Nope. Bottom-line: I'm worth less than J and K is worth less than me...except with me. With me I'm not afraid to say that K has always been the only one who ever felt like my sister. She is my sister and the rest are family.
4. M and her mother, C, now deceased, treated me terribly when my ex-fiancé came home for Christmas in 1997. I'll leave his name out of it, but he was a super-fantastic guy with nothing wrong with him. He was me trying to make my family happy, and they gave us Christian books and the cold shoulder for Christmas presents because we lived together and weren't married. Uh-huh.
A few months later we got a package of books and tapes from her church in the mail, unsolicited. Damnation and salvation. He looked at me and asked, “Why are they treating us so differently? Is it me they don’t like?” I had no answers beyond to say that it wasn’t him; it was me. The truth: it is her. A few more months later, the week I left him as I accepted the plain fact that I was more attracted to women than men, I received a card and a letter from M, telling me that if I didn't move out and stop having premarital sex with him I was going to hell. “We used to talk about God” she wrote, “but then you went away to college.” The truth: God was the only thing one could talk to her about and going away to college expanded my horizon, my verizon, and my maturity (the point of it), which made me want to talk about more than one topic.
She’s an Armageddon fanatic; the end of the world has been coming “within the next 5 years” for about 20 years. She had me so freaked out one Easter during my Freshman year of high school that I said good-bye to some of my friends at school of Friday, convinced the rapture would spirit me away before Monday. I waited all day on Sunday, wondering if I was good enough to go to heaven…and too afraid to tell my mom what was wrong with me because I figured she’d get angry. Going back to school and having to face my friends was murder. What an idiot! That’s when I stopped listening to her sermons and warnings of doom; college just helped me begin to find my voice…only a beginning.
This note is the primary reason why I gave up on my family and walked away; it was the last straw. I wrote an inflammatory letter to my father about his wife's actions; the fiancé and a friend had both asked me why he didn’t put a stop to it. After all, I am his daughter not hers. I wrote this letter because I wanted to get his attention. I came out during it and called him a coward. 11 years went by and never a reply from my father. Why? Well, his wife told him a story from the Bible, I believe about the prodigal son—told him to stay away and I would eventually come back. He listened and then he got a phone call 11 years later that I had tried to end my life on 02/02/09. Sadly, that’s the truth and not easy for me to admit.
Does my father want to talk about this? No. It's "water under the bridge." Basically, my father is not only still a coward...he's worse, but I still love him. He says he doesn’t like to pry, but he’s afraid of confrontation and he lets that get between his relationships with his two eldest daughters. J is immune because her mother is there to keep communication flowing. And no: I don't think coward is too harsh: We were alone for 1 1/2 weeks—we drove across the country—and he never engaged me in any sort of meaningful conversation even when I tried by talking about K. I tried to kill myself and he couldn’t find the cajones to talk about this. *sigh* He just won't and that's a big mistake because we'll probably never have such an opportunity again.
5. J sent me a graduation announcement. I replied and sent what cash I had in my wallet. She replied by sending me some DVDs and very kid-like stuff because she's not only immature from being sheltered, she was a kid when she last knew me. I replied back with a letter, letting her know that I was a lesbian. I figured she had been sheltered and was not aware of what occurred. Come to find out: my father says that he didn’t know about his wife’s actions, either. Hmm. I never heard back. She tells K that she wrote back saying "I love you but I don't agree with your lifestyle." Thankfully, I never received that letter because it would have hurt me worse than getting a reply. In my letter I told her not to bother writing back if that was a problem. Personally, I don't believe that she ever replied, but maybe the letter was lost? Uh-huh. Why am I suspicious? Letters do get lost in the mail. Keep reading.
6. When K had enough of our father's BS, she wrote him a letter. M intercepted this letter and didn't show it to our father for over a year! J wrote back and chewed out K, telling her that she had no right to judge our father, that he was a different man, blah, blah, blah. J is 12 years younger than K; she'll be 27 this year. She still lives at home and has never had a real relationship (so I’ve heard) even though she works in media at a huge church: she is the epitome of a sheltered child and since her mother is a latent lesbian (my long-time suspicion) who was still living at home in her early 30s and had never had a boyfriend until she met my father, she doesn't have the first fucking clue about what my sister or I have been through.
That's enough for now. If you think this is juicy, just wait: I got lots more and yes: I plan to plaster is all out there...because I can, because this is my life, because I refuse to allow this bullshit to be summed up to me being a big bad lesbian; and, unfortunately, there is no one here in the state of CA that I can just talk to without it being an argument about something. Also, I will happily be the bad guy for K, who’s going through a divorce, because I know I will never change M and I don't care to because if there's a hell, I look forward to seeing her there.
I will not take the blame for everything. I walked away, never asking for help one time in 11 years, starting out with nearly nothing, having to drop out of school and having to make my own way, in order to protect myself and survive...to learn how to be me and just not give a damn about what they think any more. This is my story and since I’m still alive, I’m going to finally tell it.
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While all readers and commenters are welcome, I reserve the right to delete anything that might make Out of Bounds II an unwelcoming cyber venue. -- Prodigal Daughter