Relationships: 6 Facts You Should Know About Leaving the Nest and Moving in With Your Boyfriend

   My boyfriend and I have a bit of an unusual arrangement. We live together, out of the nest, but we used to live together in "the nest" too! I often say my boyfriend is like family to me, and in a lot of ways we have kind of a sibling dynamic (don't get weirded out!) in addition to the relationship dynamic. No matter the dynamic we used to have, living together (on our own) is so different from what our lives used to be when we lived with his family! Here are some of the harsh realities of moving out from your parents' place and moving in together.

1) There is no dish fairy. NO DISH FAIRY! Shockingly, this comes as a surprise to us just about every other day. As I am typing this, I'm thinking about the fact that Ethan and I have no clean drinking glasses OR silverware to speak of. They're all covered in peanut butter, flour, and various unrecognizable leftovers. One of several benefits of living with your parents (or your boyfriend's parents) is, if you have overly loving and giving parents, that they do the dishes. Even yours! I'm talking burnt on food, mashed potatoed bowls, and numerous ice cream and hot fudge bowls. We want dish fairies.

2) Ladies, you WILL become a nagging screechy scary person. Hopefully you won't feel that way all the time- but it's a reality. Why won't you clean without me having to ask you? I asked you five times already- could you please take out the trash. I don't want your dirty socks on the bed, thrown randomly on the floor, or on the dining room table. Please put your dishes away? Remember to lock the door! Feed the cat when I'm away- I don't like dead cats. Why do you have to leave your underwear in the bathroom? Please don't brush your teeth in the shower. I don't want to know when or hear when you clip your toe nails. Don't make the bed that way. Remember to use SOAP when washing dishes, otherwise I have to go in and do them all over again! Turn off the light when you leave the room. Please flush sometimes? These are things I guarantee you will be saying.

3) Things get a lot lonelier. When you move out and on your own, even if it is with your partner, your schedules change and the adjustment can be really rough. Ethan's going to school and I'm not so I'm home long before he is...or even all day and when he gets home, sometimes all he wants to do is play some video games and chill and all I want to do is talk and cuddle and get out of the house. Or pout. Transition is always hard at first, especially when two of you are transitioning at the same time.

4) The money stuff gets more complicated. So- we live together, we're partners, but one of us has more money than the other? Well- your parents are paying for you but I'm paying for myself, and they're helping me with x,y, and z. Do I owe them a certain amount of money because I'm not their child? Do you owe them a certain amount of money because you ARE their child? Should we both work? Who writes the rent check? Who pays for cable? Who pays for furniture- do you pay for it because you're really the only one who cares what kind of curtains and mixer you have? Does that mean he pays for the TV? Well, who gets what if we break up? Oh my god- how am I going to afford moving out if we break up? Maybe I shouldn't pay for anything we share. Is he keeping tabs? Should I?

5) Dating gets harder. My boyfriend and I love each other and we enjoy each other's company but now that we spend so much concentrated time with one another and money is tight, it's harder to "date" and feel like a young couple. We often refer to our lifestyle as "living like 30 year olds" and we love it! But sometimes, I wish we were younger, emotionally. It's not all bad though! We've learned to really love cooking together and getting dressed up just to go to the park or go grab dessert can be really nice and, more than ever, I feel like I have a partner. He's my cozy, awesome, supportive mister.

6) You pawn tasks off on each other a lot more often and being "fair" can get kind of thrown out the window. No body loves taking the garbage out, or going down to the basement to do laundry- especially when you have to lug your shit up and down 4 flights of stairs. I go back and forth between being the dreaded chore-chart girlfriend, and the "I don't want to do that- you do that and I'll do the easier thing," girlfriend. This would be amusing, except your partner isn't your annoying ass roomie you can get away with pushing around....they're your partner you elected to live with and share a bed with, and hopefully, you appreciate. I find it really hard to step back, be less bossy, and get off my own but and share the work 50/50. I also find it hard not to get angry when I'm doing some lame chore and he's getting to lounge and hang out on his computer or do homework. Even if he did just get off from school and he helped out a ton earlier. It's definitely a tough balance.

Sleep Forever Little Baby: A Self Portrait

   I haven't painted or created any sort of art in a really long time. Painting can be a really intimidating sort of thing, and if you haven't done it in a while, it just gets harder and harder to work yourself up to starting the process. I always get so caught up in worrying about the subject matter and how I'm going to actually convey what I'm feeling when I'm painting and whether or not the finished product would be something I'd want to put on my wall (which it never is) but I find that if I blast my music loud enough, make a big mess, and just start going it works out best.
   This painting isn't about abortion, though I know it kind of looks that way. Before I was born, my mom miscarried two children and was left totally scarred by it. After she had me, she'd always tell me how she wished I was the child she miscarried- like she wanted to trade me for something better or wished I had died in her womb too. I know ultimately, it's not a commentary on me, but rather on her and how unhappy she is with her life and how much she felt the need to hurt me and others in general just to feel a little bit okay about herself but, being so young and hearing about how my mom didn't want me- didn't love me. Wished I had died. It gets to me anyway. When I'm feeling at my worst this is all I think about. Sometimes I really just wish I was one of those almost born babies who just didn't quite make the cut. There's something about the bond a mother and child should have that really dictates how you feel about your place in the world. For a mother to not want her child, even after getting to bond with and really watch that child grow is just devastating. It tends to make me feel like I really screwed up somewhere along the road.
   In a way, this piece is about my relationship with my mom.

This piece was made with paprika, turmeric, beets, tea, coffee, beets, colored pencil, sharpie, and plastic packaging.

Chic for Cheap: On a Grocery Budget but Love to Cook and Stay Healthy? Here are Some Tips!

I'm a food snob. There's no way around it. I like making and eating tasty, fancy food. No ramen for this girl. Even though I'm a food snob and I like to eat out, I'm on a budget and I was finding it really hard to buy groceries for under $100 a week. Actually, we were spending between $200-$230 a week on groceries alone! Well, I have embraced "frugal." It's actually kind of fun to learn how to budget! First, I tried switching to only off brand products- it helped, but not a whole lot. I tried buying less meat and only in season fruits and veggies- again, helpful, but not very. Then I realized, accidentally, that Trader Joe's is surprisingly a lot cheaper than your average Lucky's or (if you live on the East Coast) Shaws. Trader Joe's is unfortunately pretty limited, but if you switch to buying all of your fruits and veggies, as well as dairy and bread solely at TJ's and stick to just buying your meats at your local grocery store, you save a ton of money! We've got it down to $75  week now, which we're pretty stoked about. Try it out. Besides, Trader Joe's is way more fun to shop at- plus you can always pick up some cheap seasonal flowers on your way out.

Cheap for Chic: The Eczema Potion

This post is short and sweet. I feel obligated to share, I accidentally discovered that cinnamon mixed with equal parts honey creates a great eczema soother! I had a really aggressive, unattractive patch of eczema on my neck, and after treating my hair with a cinnamon and honey mixture and rinsing it off in the shower, my eczema on my neck disappeared! If your skin acts up, gets flaky, and hates dry winters, please please PLEASE try it out! That is all.

Chic for Cheap: Updating Dated Pieces (Photos taken from Design Sponge)

   Hey readers! Now, a lot of you know how much I LOVE all things interior design. It's one of my passions and I could spend all day shopping in various furniture stores, rearranging pieces, and creating centerpieces for my humble dining room table. These photos and pieces are not mine ( I copied them from http://www.designsponge.com because it is a FABULOUS site) but I'd like to take what I know about being on a budget and having a love for beautiful homes and share with you.
   I actually have a few funky musty antique shops on my street, geared towards poor college students and at first, I was totally discouraged when I went to take a look-see for the first time. There are a lot of cheep, cheesy pieces-totally dated (and not in a good way) and kind of thrown around haphazardly. There's something to be said for presentation when you're selling low end products. It makes all the difference! Dusty, dated, and faded products are a tough sell. Luckily, if you train your eye, you can find some great foundation pieces for your house if you're willing to put in a little time and effort.


So: I'm going to focus on painting and stenciling pieces. Stenciling can take a lot of time and patience (and painters tape) but if you take your time, you'll be totally impressed with the transformation.


I love this piece because of how much I HATED the armoire/dresser monstrosity as is. It looks kind of overbearing and overwhelming and while I'm sure it has its place, I wouldn't put it in my home. It definitely looks great for storage though. I really love what this person decided to do with it. Geometric, simple patterns really modernize things and grey-blue colors are totally calming and sophisticated. The pop of yellow on the nobs give it that extra umph and I kind of hate/love them but the pillow to the left really helps tie the punch of color in and make it believable. Overall, definitely a great focal point for any room.

I'm totally into this desk transformation because it's so doable. I see this kind of desk all the time for as little as $40 and they kind of just sit there. That's great news for you if you want a new project and a fun little desk! All you have to do is slap on a fresh coat of paint, get some various sized letter stencils, spray paint them on, paint the handles a more modern color, and boom! You have a rad desk.





















I dig this. I have to say, I don't know that I have a steady enough hand to paint this on a piece of furniture but the basic concept is great. Pick a strong solid color, paint the whole piece, then paint a strong and simple industrial image in the center. Pretty fucking awesome. I want this for my entryway!

Chic for Cheap: Honey Cinnamon Hair Dye

   Hey guys! So I went through some hair drama over the past year or two and I went a little hair dye, hair bleach, hair cutting madness. Now I'm paying the price! I used to have really thick, long, shiny hair and it grew about an inch per month. After some accidental bleaching, my hair is still relatively thick, but it lost a lot of its shine and was refusing to grow. I still have a lot of breakage and my hair isn't nearly as soft or shiny as it used to be but I'm treating it right and it's on the slow mend. Because I had bleached my hair about a year ago and then dyed it with the color closest to my natural hair color (dark brown with red hilights) my hair is really unevenly colored. For a while, I switched from permanent dye to semi-permanent dye (again, a color that was as close to my natural color as possible) and I felt good about at least treating my hair a bit more gently but I realized, even though semi permanent dye is a lot less stressful on your hair than permanent dye, it still stunts the growth of your hair and I want long lustrous hair! So I've been looking for better, healthier solutions (that are better for my wallet too!)

   I recently discovered using spices and juices as natural hair dye. Having already brown hair, I went with a mixture that would give me slightly darker hair with some red undertones. I also wanted to make a mixture that, if possible, also stimulated hair growth and strengthened my hair. I looked up what various spices and came up with this:

Ingredients:
-Cinnamon
-Paprika
-Brewed Coffee (2x's as strong as you would regularly brew)
-Olive Oil
-Conditioner
-Honey

You really want to play with the amount of each ingredient you use based on the look you want to achieve. I wanted the treatment to double as a hair oiling/deep conditioning so I used a decent amount of olive oil and conditioner (you can also use lotion in place of conditioner if you don't want to waste your fancy conditioner). Applying the mixture can be tricky because the honey makes it really hard to comb through. I would recommend sectioning your hair and applying the mixture section by section then tying those sections up. You have to get all of your hair pretty saturated and leave it in overnight so make sure you don't have a romantic evening planned! I recommend putting a shower cap over your hair and putting a towel over your pillow, as these spices really stain clothing and fabric. Wash your hair out with cold water, initially.

Home

   Never did I imagine being "on my own" would feel this way. Here I am, in a new beautiful and busy city with my handsome and faithful boyfriend in a decent apartment without too many true "financial burdens." I don't have homework, I don't have a stressful job, and I don't have any restrictions.
   For years, probably ever since I was five, I imagined this time in my life differently. I think I pictured a beautiful spacious home complete with an affectionate boyfriend and nothing but the world in front of me. I had so much time to plan things, or really, just hope for things, that this vision I had became so beyond attainable that I'm realizing life is a let down. Or, it feels like a let down. I feel like a let down. I pictured myself to be someone totally different from who I am today. I envisioned this strong woman with a list of accomplishments- tangible accomplishments. I pictured this person who was already into her second year of college at some prestigious school somewhere making beautiful art or being a really great dancer or maybe living across the world doing something else equally fabulous. I pictured myself being and feeling free. I find myself sitting down, trying to write a list- a tangible list- of all my accomplishments and every time, I walk away frustrated because I cannot think of one thing I have accomplished in my life. To have fought so hard, and run so far and not be able to see or feel any of the reward is frustrating and I blame myself. In order to accomplish something, I now recognize, you need to have a certain amount of confidence and belief in yourself. In order to recognize your own accomplishments, you need to be able to see past the things you didn't or have not yet accomplished.
   I'm have this obsession with the idea of "home." What is a home? What separates the word "house" from "home?" I don't think I've got it down yet. I don't know where I get it from, but I think ever since I was  pretty young, I've loved all things interior-decorating. Whenever I would be upset or anxious, I would secretly move all the furniture in my room and hang and re-hang paintings and fabrics and create this little haven for myself. There were actually days, just after I re-did my room that I would fake being sick, just to enjoy my "new room." Well designed and loved spaces make me so beyond calm, it's ridiculous. My dad and I used to go to Santana Row together, all the time, just to visit Crate and Barrel and Pottery Barn- to me, those were the best times. My dad's this geeky Indian guy who doesn't really have much of a keen eye for anything, but when we would walk into a posh little furniture store and I would get all excited about whatever it was, he would get excited with me because he knew how much I loved all of it.
   It makes me pretty embarrassed to say- the highlight of my week, ever since I moved, is visiting Crate and Barrel. I think I go to C&B three or four times a week. I don't know that anybody else gets this way, but when I walk into Crate and Barrel, I get this kind of giddy feeling- like- "this could be me." A place where bedrooms are romantic, tables are set for family and friends, living rooms are cozy, and you are clearly financially comfortable. This is a place where people are happy and loved. I feel like a real creeper, walking around C&B all day- and a lot of the time, I come home and cry for a while, feeling sort of crushed by a combination of self hatred and stupid longing for something that doesn't exist. Something about being there and places like it just makes me so....disappointed. I guess I'm just disappointed with how life turned out? More accurately, I'm just so upset at all the things I know I can't get back, or I won't be getting. I think what home means to me is this place where family bonds and plays games by some perfect fire- where all these beautiful meals are had and memories are made and home is a place where you know you are loved. I don't really know where I got my interpretation of what a home should be, because reflecting on my own life, I've never truly felt at home- like I belong and I am loved.
   Living here in my 1 bedroom apartment, with my boyfriend and my cat, I feel differently than I thought I would feel. I thought the process of searching for "THE first apartment" and picking out all the furniture and the dish ware and the fabric and the tiny details would make me feel at home- like this is MY space and I can feel at peace and at home, but it really hasn't. I keep feeling like I picked the wrong apartment or I picked the wrong furniture or I picked the wrong city or I picked the wrong person to live with and I have to remind myself that it really isn't about any of those things. I think "home" is probably one of those "from within" things and right now, I am not a home for myself- if that translates like I want it to. Maybe that takes a while to create.
 

Getting Fit and Less Obsessed: Confessions of an Overeater

   I like food. I like food a lot. I'm one of those people now, I guess, who you read about. A "yo-yo dieter." I go from exercising hardcore and eating six little healthy meals a day to eating 3 Drumsticks in one sitting, some Hot Cheetos and home-style mac-n'-cheese. I call myself a lot of names. On an average I-ate-my-weight-in-chocolate-and-sad-feelings day, you'll hear me jokingly talk about what a fatty I am. I call my butt/thigh region a "thutt" (you can't tell the difference between thigh and butt). I call myself pancake-ass, jiggly, cottage cheesy, cellulite filled, and just plain gross. I'm pretty damn funny, actually. But, in actuality, I don't really feel very happy about the way I look and I guess it's pretty obvious. I think my issue now is, after moving out from my parents' place- going from not eating very much food and running all the time, to eating three hearty meals a day, sitting around sad and overwhelmed and stressed about the next phase in my life- I gained quite a bit of weight. I don't look like a whale or anything but I keep gaining weight because after the initial weight gain and lack of exercise, I tried to workout hardcore and I seriously hurt my joints. Initially I thought something was wrong with my knees, which maybe there is, but I think more than anything- the additional weight makes my joints pissed off at me. It hurts to exercise. So then I get into this cycle of "Oh my gosh I'm so fatty I can't even go for a 10 minute run without feeling like I'm an old person."
   I'm really trying to work on my consistency and not taking on too much and being kinder to myself- just doing a reasonable amount of dieting and exercise, or rather changing my lifestyle but consistency is tough! I trace my tendency to overeat certain things back to my childhood. My boyfriend always comments on the fact that the only really positive memories I have of my mom are connected to food in one way or another. She nurtured through her cooking and when I'm really sad, I think I equate eating cozy food and specific foods I had as a child to that feeling you get when you know your mom loves you- and I don't have that feeling very often. I don't think it would even be so bad to be an emotional eater....but I just commit food-icide! Moderation is not something I understand... I wonder what the trick to disassociating food from nostalgic memories is.

I think I need a consistency coach, personal trainer, and a nutritionist...and money for those things, haha.

Being an Adult- The Responsibilities of a Sexual Abuse Survivor

   What I am about to describe and divulge to you takes a lot of, I guess you could say, "guts" on my part. It may not even be the most intelligent thing to share with the world but as an advocator for openness and healing, as well as moving on and growing up, I kind of feel it really is something I'm obligated to share with you guys.
   I genuinely believe that there is no such thing as "good" and "bad" people. Only bad decisions. I also believe that people who are mean or abusive or truly scary didn't start out that way- they, more likely than not, were abused as children or adolescents or maybe in adulthood and that abuse will always shape you as a person-sometimes positively, and sometimes not.
   I talk a lot, in my blog, about how my mom sexually abused me (as well as physically and verbally) and I think it's pretty clear I do not like her. As a kid, though, things were different. As a kid, I loved my mom more intensely than any kind of love I've seen someone have for another person. My mom has always been both a very open person, and a very secretive person. With her, the story always changes. My mom would tell me stories about her childhood and I wish I had listened harder. Asked more questions. I find I have so many questions about where she came from, knowing now the things that both she and I struggle with. Maybe having the answers would help me better understand myself.
   My mother was always pretty consistent about the fact that her mom was always pretty cold. It seemed like she nurtured mainly through food, like my mom does. My mom always speaks highly of her dad- he died when she was 16 and she was devastated. I always wonder, though, if he wasn't the most abusive of the bunch. She praises him like he was some sort of god she was graced with but I never heard much about why he was such a wonderful father. I wonder if maybe he hit his children and his wife. Maybe he sexually abused my mom or some of the family? Maybe he was, in fact, a great dad. I know that when I asked my mom- "Did your father every rape you or your siblings?" She gets furious with me. She always responds with, "How dare you speak badly about my father. I love him and he was a far better person than you." I don't know about you, but that reaction just makes me more suspicious.
   My mom immigrated from Austria when she was 3 with her parents and brother and sister, in the fifties I believe. Her mom was jewish and her father was catholic. My mom faced a lot of racism in Iowa and they called her a dirty German. They hit her with baseball bats, pushed her down stairs, and made it really clear that they didn't like her or her background. I think my mom always felt very isolated and just generally unliked- by her family and the people around her. When my mom talks about what she was like as a child and teenager- she reminds me of me and what I was like as a child. She was a quirky creative little girl who kept to herself and hated conflict. She always tried to bring the family together and it upset her more than it would upset most when she felt someone didn't like her. When I picture my mom as a little girl- a very petite, adorable little blonde girl with sausage curls, a pressed dress, and a bow in her hair- I am angry for her and I am angry at whoever hurt her in her past. I stand by the fact that I believe my mom was raped. My mom mentioned in anger or in a drunken slur a few times throughout my life that her brother had raped her. But when I would later ask her about it, she'd get angry with me and say my mind was "in the gutter." Whether or not it happened, I don't know and I have no proof of but I believe with all my heart that she was abused, mistreated, and put in a bad position several times throughout her life.
  My mom is a weird person. She's terrified of being homeless, is afraid of the dark, is constantly in a child-like state, very dependent, irrational, angry, manipulative, and helpless. She has an addictive personality, takes 8 vicodin a day (among other prescribed pills taken in excess) and has a tendency to drink and sneak alcohol and Butterfingers. I've always known her to be on "the verge of committing suicide." She has the lowest self esteem I think I've ever seen a person have. She certainly hates herself more than I hate her, and that's saying something. To her, I don't think there's anything more scary than being alone. She's a very overweight, very lazy, chronic pain person and she is addicted to collecting things and spending money she doesn't have- even if she believes she's the best bargain hunter you can find. She's actually...intelligent? I think? But most of what she knows and talks about these days are Indian soap operas, Clay Aiken, and various TV series. She's a Sci-Fi lover and far to open about her sex life and various blow jobs she's given but when you discuss something sexually-normal with her- she'll literally cover her ears, sing a childish song, or tell you you're crass.
    Anyway- as a child, I really felt for my mom and her stories about her childhood and the pain she still feels today would bring me to tears. People would hear about and see how I was being raised and they would be very concerned and try to comfort me and I always would say, "My mom's just hurting. She means well and really loves me. She just doesn't know how to love herself." A lot of times I would tell people I didn't really care if she loved me, I just wish she would love herself, and I would be 7 or 8 at the time and people would just stare at me- shocked. I understand why, now. See, moving out of my house, away from my parents was great and crucial in so many ways. I didn't understand until I separated myself from our dysfunction that my parent's love for me was very conditional and therefore my love for myself and other people around me was very conditional.
   It's only taken me until now to realize what the aftermath of what the cycle of dysfunction and rape and sexual abuse really is. Here's the tough thing to admit- the thing I really never really say (and the thing you never really say, either, if you've been raped or molested.) I am terrified of myself. When I'm around small children, girls or boys, sometimes I can get myself into this place where I am just hyperventilating, uncomfortable, and overwhelmed with myself. I feel ashamed, anxious, and revolting. That feeling is the IMMENSE fear that I will repeat the cycle. My mom was raped, she raped me- I don't know how people are supposed to interact in a healthy way with children. What if how I interact is wrong? What if I do something? What if I hurt them? What if I break them? What if I damage this precious, innocent life because I am somehow this damaged, gross person? I can't tell anyone. They'll think I've done something to another child. They'll look at me different. Maybe they'll report me if I say something to a therapist? Is this normal? Do all rape victims feel this way? What's the right way to react? How do I heal from this? Do I heal? Am I supposed to not interact with children? I love children and being able to nurture and care for children makes me feel happy and fulfilled. Is that unhealthy? Should I not be allowed to work with children? Will my boyfriend leave me if he knows this is how I feel?
   I'm fortunate enough to have some really great friends, a very loving, understanding, and rational boyfriend, and people who share my experiences. Luckily, with that combination of greatness, I feel okay and not so afraid of myself- not so ashamed- not so alone in my fear. I have a few friends who have come to me in private and asked me, "I get really anxious and unsettled around little girls (or little boys or both) and I hate myself for it. Do you feel that way too sometimes? How do you deal with it?" And, boy, am I so glad they came to me. Not only was it comforting for them to hear that, yes, I can feel that way and I have somethings I do and tell myself to work through it, but it's comforting for me too. That's why I'm sharing (even though it's probably the single most thing I'm mortified to share about.) Looking back on my childhood, my mom's childhood, and my "freak outs" I have- I realize the feeling I get isn't a "desire" to do something wrong, but the fear that some day that "desire" my mom and whoever raped her had. I don't want to be some monster and the thought of being an abuser is overwhelming and scary.
   This is where being an adult just plain sucks. When you're abused as a kid, it's easy to feel like you're still a kid, what is expected of you is the same as what is expected of a kid, and you are as fragile as a kid (or at least that's how I sometimes feel). The issue is, when you feel worried about the potential you have to do damage to another child- it's time to be an adult. Yes, you were abused. Yes, your boundaries aren't always as clear. Yes, being around children is hard for you to navigate. But you have to learn when to be really honest with yourself and gauge your situation. I think it's okay to feel anxious and nervous around kids sometimes, because as a survivor, you are at a greater risk of repeating the abuse and I don't think you need to beat yourself up for being cautious and afraid that that is a possibility- but if you do feel you're at a place where the line between "wrong" and "right" is blurred- you need to remove yourself from the situation, regroup, and maybe have a therapist help you sort through those feelings and fears and help give you perspective.

   It's your responsibility as a survivor to break the cycle, not repeat it. I think, as a person, you always have the choice to make good and bad decisions. It's figuring out which one's which that gets tough.

The Story We Tell (And the Things We Keep Private)

   I'm just curious...I really want a show of hands here. I know this is true for myself, and I knew it's true for some of my girlfriends: Are you telling the whole story? Being me, I have a lot of really badass strong friends (male and female) who have been through some serious shit. I'm talking serious beatings, poverty, verbal abuse, rape....the stuff that's hard to talk about. I feel blessed because, generally, my friends and I feel safe enough to share the horror stories but I've been noticing: there are a lot of dirty details we omit when we talk to certain people. Maybe it's our family, or our boyfriends, or teachers we admire, or certain friends who maybe intimidate us or make us feel just a little bit insecure.
   I find myself censoring what I have to get out because I'm afraid of how it will be received and how it will impact the ones I love and the relationships I love (or maybe just don't want to make any worse.) I found out the hard way, a lot of people just can't stomach what my every day life looked like. To them- it sicks them out and that just honestly bums me out and makes me feel like maybe I'm just this dark cloud. Maybe I'm a bummer? But I've learned to acknowledge who can and can't take what I have to say. I say it directly, and openly, and repeatedly: I was sexually abused/raped/molested by my mom. You can take it or leave it. I'm sure you've heard me say it plenty (especially if you read this blog) but I don't think everyone realizes, being able to say that publicly, casually, or among friends is such an amazing, freeing family. I can be honest, I can omit what I want or need to, and I can just let me be me. Whatever that may be today.
   That being said, sometimes I don't always feel like I CAN be honest, even with those who may be able to stomach it. There are parts of my story, parts of my past, and parts of my thought process I am not proud of- even if I'm not responsible for the way or the extent to which things happened. It's embarrassing, I don't personally feel good about those things that DID happen, even if I can openly name the generic term that is associated to the act (rape) and I kind of honestly feel trapped by the details.
   If I don't talk about the dirty details of my sex life, why in the hell would I admit to the dirty details to my "sex life" as a five year old? What's the art of being direct without being TOO direct? How much can someone else really hear? At what point have you crossed the "TMI" line and why do I have to feel like something that weighs heavy on me and I didn't ask for could ever be "TMI" for anyone around me? It's TOO MUCH INFORMATION for me too!
   I was talking to someone once and she mentioned how a near stranger walked in one day and started opening up to her slowly about her childhood and the excessive sexual abuse she had endured from her father. She soon divulged that the first orgasm she ever had was in fact from her dad and she went into some detail about how it felt and how she felt emotionally. The person telling me this story about the stranger then tells me in a "How gross and inappropriate is THAT?!" kind of tone that that was just TMI for her. Now, right off the bat, I can tell you- that story was TMI for ME because most of the time, I can't take any sort of sexual anything being recounted when it's any kind of negative like that. I start feeling triggered and vulnerable and gross. But then I thought, "Hey! What if I wanted to let go of some sort of trying story of mine about something like that. I HAVE STORIES LIKE THAT TO TELL. Would you be grossed out by me? Would you tell my story to some other person and talk about how I unloaded this awful story on you?"

I don't know. Just food for thought. Just what exactly do you omit?

Being Five

   I talk a lot about the things I do for myself and the things Ethan does for me when I'm overwhelmed. I talk about the way I understand myself and the way I take care of myself as though I am proud. In a sense, I guess I am proud. It takes a level of honesty and self awareness to understand what you need in your own time of need. I have to be honest though, I don't like the things that I need. I don't mean to say I don't enjoy the self nurturing or being nurtured by others, but that I hate that I constantly, and probably in moments throughout my life (however far apart they eventually get) feel five. I am a five year old.
   When I cry my voice gets mousey, I kick my feet, I hide behind and under things and I revert to this little afraid child who can't handle things that go bump in the night. Why five? Can't I be twelve, or fifteen, or maybe even *gasp*...my age? I'd like to think the people around me view me as responsible and mature but I do not feel mature at all. I treat my friendships and all my falling outs with friends like a child would. "Why don't they like me? Will they come back? I feel so sad and confused. People are stupid." When an adult criticizes me, even with merit, I fall apart. "I'll never amount to anything. I'll never be a grown up. Well, they're just stupid. I'll do what I want. But why don't they like me." I even treat my achievements as a five year old would. "I did this small thing. Why haven't you complimented me? Please look at this small thing I did and praise me! This small thing I did is stupid and doesn't matter. I don't matter."
   Maybe these aren't all things typical five year olds say but when I was five- I always felt this way. I don't matter, no one sees me, no matter how hard I try I'll always feel, why don't they like me? I feel afraid and I don't feel comfortable around people.
   I'd like to say I'm more high-functioning than the afore-mentioned puddle of a person I can be, and I am...but sometimes I'm just not.
   I try to find the root to my problems and flaws, because obviously I don't always want to be a five year old, and I think I've got a handle on this one.
   The combination of the age most of my abuse happened (five years old) and my general feelings towards adults and family members greatly affects the mode I revert to when I feel least secure. I feel like I did at the worst time in my life. I find I crave family and parents and general snuggly things more than anyone I know. I try to explain: I love and need gentle unconditional affection. I eat it up! Then I get mad at myself. God dammit! I don't want to "need" anything. Especially CONSTANT affection. And besides, I could get all the affection and acceptance in the world from everyone I know and it still wouldn't be enough. Because these people around me now are not my parents. I don't feel safe and I don't feel quite right because the people who teach you what it is to be loved and to love back broke that bond and so five year old me is still confused, and scared, and overwhelmed and really needs to watch some Little Bear and feel protected from all the scary things that are out there.
   I guess I can't be too hard on myself. I don't know one five year old I could look at and say: It's okay to be molested by your mom. No big deal, get over it. Totally normal! Or, it's no big deal your mom tried to commit suicide in front of you for the fifth time this year and that she tried to tell you it was all your fault. That you were just too much to be around so she wanted to end her life. Or, it's okay that your dad says you're always going to come last. That he calls you deceitful and awful and selfish for trying to reach out for help. It's okay that no one has taken care of you and no one ever will. It's okay that you feel alone, and ugly, and ashamed and you're only five. I'd be mortified and you'd be fucking right to think that I would step in and do something about it if I knew someone who went through something like I went through. I suppose a part of me is angry with everyone (which is so beyond unrealistic) for NOT stepping in and rescuing me. The difference it would have made. Always looking for a big rescue....
   The funny thing to me is, I used to feel like such an adult, growing up. And I was! Had you met me, you would have thought: Wow, that girl has got it TOGETHER! She's strong, she has a lot on her plate, and she doesn't bat an eye. AND she's loving and patient. Impressive. I don't know if I'm any of those things sometimes.

Maybe it's finally my time to be a regular 5 year old.

Dear Parents

   Every day, I find new reasons as to why biological parents are so important. Parents are like your very own possession, essentially. It is their duty to love you (and your siblings) and only you (and your siblings) more than anyone else in the world. You are theirs, and they are yours and it's this snuggly very intimate bond. They provide for you, care for you, and protect you- and over everyone else- they look out for you. They care about your life choices, how your day was, what your new haircut looks like, what your favorite shows, books, and outfits are. They like the way you cook and the way you present yourself and they love to watch you grow and develop as a human being. They love all that you are.

   Now, every day, I find new reasons to feel sad. I feel sad because my biological parents, though they will say sometimes to other people or maybe even me if I'm lucky that they do love me (they just don't agree with anything I do or the person that I am today) do not love me. The definition of healthy parent to child love is....just unconditional love, support, and the willingness to defend and protect your child. To not feel loved by the woman who gave birth to you, nursed you, and watched you grow....well it just sucks. It more than just sucks but explaining the feelings of rejection and confusion and hurt and shame is just a lot for me. To not feel loved by the man who carried you on his shoulders, shared many a heart to hearts with you, kissed your booboos, and promised you the world is painful. I feel that pain every day and I feel it when I see loving parents. Parents who are proud of their children and would fight the world for them. I deserve those parents. I want those parents. But somehow, I ended up with dysfunctional, unhealthy, unhappy, mean and nasty doo-doo head parents who hate, resent, and reject me. To them: I am a bad person and I am undeserving and dishonest. How I wound up with an alcoholic, suicidal, verbally, physically, and sexually abusive shit pile of a mom- I don't know. How I wound up with a weak, spineless, backstabbing and less than insightful father-I don't know. Obviously, I am angry about the cards I was dealt. (I hope to one day work through that.)

   Having the parents I had- lacking that stability and love and support kids are supposed to get, I never really trusted any other adult, or person really, to step in and step up and be that unit or that emotional source I needed. People say "I love you like my own" but they don't really mean it. Eventually, when push comes to shove- that biological bond a parent has to their child that says "I am yours and you are mine and that's all I have room for in my heart" becomes obvious. I think I've made the mistake of waiting around for and seeking out replacement parents. And while I've found plenty of wonderful, loving adult role models, I've come to the realization that it's time I become my own "emotional mom and dad." And what I mean by that is, it's time I learn to provide for myself: financially, emotionally....and everything in between. Family is so important to me but I missed the "We all love each other and we're one big happy family" train and now it's time to accept the cards I was given, count my losses, and move on. I don't have parents, I don't consider myself to have family, I'm my own and I'm on my own. In the end, once it stops hurting so bad....I'll be glad I learned to consider myself enough. I am enough family for myself and the friends that come into my life are the icing on the cake.

   So in the spirit of closure, here's a letter ( I unfortunately cannot send) to my parents. My parents don't know me and I guess they never will and sometimes I wish I could tell them who I am. But I guess that's cool. I've met myself and I think I'm pretty neat?

Dear mom and dad, 


   I really like to cook, eat at fancy places, dance around and be silly, and the word I use most out of my vocabulary is "cozy." I'm a nester and I believe in the idea of "home." I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't party. I love my boyfriend and I love my cat and we're a little family. I work hard, love kids, and I eat fancy cheese spreads. I also love tadpoles and little frogs and I still sleep with my stuffed animal Peanut. I workout, have trouble losing weight, and feel kind of hideous a lot of the time. Sometimes I feel really pretty and I always feel proud of myself and how far I've come. I'm strong, independent, and I make my own money. I bought my first laptop and felt like an official adult. The thought of being a mom scares me, and the thought of being anything like the two of you scares me even more. I don't like baths, scary movies, or suspenseful video games. I still freak out sometimes after sex and I think about you every day...and how much you've hurt me. Sometimes I feel like I did something wrong and I'm a bad person and a bad daughter and I wonder how parents can treat someone the way you treat me. I'm afraid of driving fast, people holding knives, people leaving me, and failure. Things and places that aren't clean make me feel unclean. I cry on my birthdays and Christmas makes me sad. I feel lonely and unloved and very much so unseen. You make me angry. I read your stupid Facebook pages almost every day and think "Why aren't I mentioned? Why don't you talk about how much you love ME? Why do you only talk about how much you love my sister?" Your financial instability makes me afraid for my financial future. Saving and planning and list making are very important to me. I am a very organized person and I'm the person to go to if you want things organized and tidy and made beautiful. I am a master at making things cozy and I celebrate a lot of traditions we shared as a family. I make a lot of the foods we had at home. I love coffee and snow and watching movies cuddled under blankets. My favorite qualities in a person are: being nurturing, being patient, being consistent, and being funky. I have lots of friends and spend lots of time out and about. I feel like no one really likes me very much. I get my nails done, have my hair professionally cut, and take spa trips and coffee trips because I can afford to and I'm allowed to treat myself and when I go, I know if you knew-you would say it was selfish of me. I laugh really loud, wear grey and tie my hair up, even though you think it's unattractive when I do. I'm going to school in 6 months and I'm going to kick butt. And I'm going to do it all on my own. I'm moving to Boston and after that, I'll probably never see you again. Thanks for all the love, help, and support! 


Your daughter, Tara.


P.S...... I celebrate the day I moved out like it's a holiday. It's great to be away.

Healing is Exhausting

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Getting Fit and Less Obsessed: Monday, July 4th, 2011 (Beginning Week 8)

Hey, guys!

   Sorry I haven't posted my progress the past several weeks. It's always something- a trip to San Diego or a super big breakfast before I was supposed to shoot some pics and a "I'll do it later today"! I'll switch up the format since I've been doing things a little bit differently. The past 3 or 4 weeks, I've been focussing on just doing heavy duty hilly walks with toning exercises afterwards. I do this 5 mile loop with a good friend of mine and we stop at a park and do an hours worth of sprints, ab exercises, punches and kicks, squats, and other toning exercises. It seems to be helping a little bit but I still feel really discouraged about how slowly the process is going. I see little improvements- my butt is more toned and not so saggy, my thighs feel more muscular, my tummy is a little more firm- but I still feel like a gross size and I notice when I put old clothing on that I haven't worn in a while- I just don't fit anymore. Quite saddening! I'm trying to learn how to both be kinder to myself AND more consistent and hard working. These are things that are hard for me! I guess fitness is a life time process and being healthy is a lifestyle- not a timed program. I'm trying to just work on being more and more consistent and I'm better about working out MORE often (though I skip or half ass my workouts semi-frequently) but I'm still terrible about eating right. I'll eat healthy most of the day, but then I'll snag a coffee and some ice cream, or some chocolate milk and a donut, or a whole 2,000 calorie bag of hot cheetos. I notice the more strict I am with myself, the more unhealthy things I binge on. I'm going to have to find a balance because when I'm too tough on myself, I get emotional. When I get emotional, I over-eat. When I over-eat, I beat myself up about it. It's a nasty cycle. (Didn't weigh myself today! Forgot to hop on the scale before I did breakfast and all that jazz.) 

Self Assessment

 
 I've been doing a lot of thinking. I have my big move coming up (Boston, MA with the boyfriend!) and I am quaking in my boots, my friends. I'm so beyond stoked and so beyond ready to bail. I think that's kind of the way I tend to be about everything. I'm always all in or all out. I love Ethan, I love adventure, and I need a change, but boy is change scary.

   After a brief visit with my parents, I realized several things about myself. As hard and as far as I run from what I recognize as my parents or what my parents do, I'll never be able to stop. We have so many tendencies in common, I've lost count. Every time I meet with my mom or dad, I find new things I hate about them that I hate about myself (and didn't even realize).

   I'm brave, I'm a fighter, I'm ambitious. I'm beautiful, resilient, and I'm smart. But boy am I stubborn. Boy, am I a quitter. I shoot for the moon and end up in the water 9 times out of 10. I want things but I don't always know how to do the work to get those things. Most of the time, I don't even recognize my bad behavior. I can be mean, manipulative, sneaky, and hurtful and have no idea that all I'm doing is projecting my insecurities and mimicking my mom's bad behavior. You wouldn't know it, but I'm a really angry person. I piss and moan and judge people all day. In my head. Somehow, I thought saying those things in private or to myself meant I was a kinder, more thoughtful person. It just, unfortunately, makes me dishonest in addition to unkind and thoughtless.

   I often do the opposite of what I say. I'm on a diet. I eat ice cream and hot cheetos. I believe in fitness. I stay home and take a nap instead of my planned workout. I believe in being on time. I'm always late to everything. I believe in financial responsibility and saving. I make quick, ill planned purchases often. I believe in being compassionate and loving. I'm withholding and I take more than I give. These are the things I have to work on but I find my list growing! Realizing I have all of these fundamental, big things to be working on right before making the big leap in commitment (financially and romantically) by moving is so overwhelming to me, I don't think I can even explain. It's like I feel as though...if I don't fix all that's wrong with me now, in addition to my relationship, my financial status, and perhaps even my family relationships, they'll never get fixed and I'll end up some repeated version of all the bad aspects of my family.

   Maybe my main goal in Boston is to find a great therapist.

Recognizing Bullshit

    Just this past weekend, I visited my family (probably) one last time. You can read my post soon that talks all about it. I think the easiest way to describe me is probably "hopeful." Maybe even too hopeful. I'm one of those people who expects people to behave rationally and consistently and with compassion. My parents, specifically my mom, don't really possess that whole "rational" or "consistent" or "compassionate" vibe and I'm always disappointed. I think maybe my problem may just be that I'm unable to recognize bullshit.

   My mom, I'm convinced, neither hates nor loves us children and her family. What we are to her are pawns. She manipulates whoever sticks around long enough to get attention and make anyone but her look like a "bad person." I don't believe that she feels remorse or guilt or compassion. She just lives for her own short term goals. Unfortunately, I haven't quite learned how to recognize when she's setting us up for another one of her manipulative mind games. She wrote this nasty (incoherent) email to me the morning after my horrifying family-get together.

"To Tara:

Soon you will be 20. Will you have a degree? Only the cream of the cream get a job. Cute and delusional doesn't work forever. Only family will love you for who you were. Once people see through you,in 5 years,in 10,you will still be a slightly aging,uneducated,unaccomplished,half-white,oddity. How soon my baby boy became 33 and unmarried,bragging about who he was. By that time,we had 2 kids,our 2nd house,and a lovely life. Stare though the fog. Even The Hyenas will move on-and-how much do you really like jazz?? It-is going to school with female students too. They will share his interests and you share his-bed? Sellout. Fail. Nanny for life. Rich people will always have kids. But even they want college -educated nannies. Your up a creek without a Trader Joe. Don't wear out your tires. There is not one Ganguly or Voith  on the planet-or DiGiuseppe or Zeiser,that believes you anymore. You have no family. Do you know why? Because you are a liar. All of us,each one,to some extent,loved you. Over,done. Finished. Goodbye.

So sad."

   After I read this email, I was a little bit hurt. Her mean digs got to me.  "I'm going to amount to nothing, my family hates me, no one is proud of me, I'm so stuck." Then it occurred to me, as it usually does after a good cry- all these emails mean are that my mom is angry. Mostly with herself but also at the fact that she knows I don't really give a shit about her and I don't like her. If anything, it means she wants MY attention. 

   So then I sent her this:


"Helga: Here's what I have to say about all of this mess:

  You're a fat, ugly, selfish, prescription drug addict. You act like a child, you're essentially a retard, socially and functionally. No one likes you. No one likes to be around you. You're verbally abusive, you were physically and sexually abusive and you're just a big fuck up. You know it. You hate yourself so damn much because no one loves you. You don't deserve love. Frankly, you don't deserve to be alive. Where's your success? Where's your "close knit" family? Where's your loving husband? Where's all this respect you MUST have from your family, all your friends, and yourself? You have nothing. Oh, I forgot. You have tons of worthless, hideous collectible shit in your house, foreclosure on your hands, television, and essentially a live in servant you call your husband. Let me ask you this: how often do you get off the couch? How often do you leave your bedroom? How often do you leave the house?

  You're a sad sack of shit and I laugh when I think I came from you. You and I are nothing alike. You live to tear people down because you feel so shitty about yourself. Every day you wake up and think to yourself "How can I make more people cater to me and feel sorry for me? How can I bring others down to make myself feel more powerful? How can I get more attention?" You're a fucking loser. I'm shocked you're even still alive, what with all the "suicide attempts" and, you know, the fact that you barely move, let alone exercise or eat right. You're nasty. People like you serve no purpose. I can say in all honesty- I don't love you, I don't care about your well being, and I don't respect you. I have several mom's in my life but you're not one of them. You're lucky to have Anjuli in your life. She's still scared enough of you or worried enough that she'll somehow become you that she still pays any attention to you. Or maybe she just has to pretend to want to be around you, sort of, so she can spend time with baba. He may be weak and dis loyal, but at least he's pleasant. But even he is a waste of time because he really has no personal opinions or beliefs. He just agrees with whoever's around. Must be great for you!

  You are a rapist. You fondled me, you made out with me, you made me do sexual favors for you, and you insulted me and berated me while you did it. I'm a liar? You're an alcoholic with a fucked up background. It's not your fault? You were raped by your brother? Or so you say sometimes? I believe you were abused, I really do, and I sympathize. But you had no right to have children if you knew you still were fucked up and had issues of your own to tackle. Oh that's right, you have no insight when it comes to you. You just think you fan-fucking tastic. I talked with my cousin, and you know what? She's a lovely person, we get along, and turns out her dad- part of YOUR family- is just as fucked up and sick as you. He  abused his kids, he's an angry mean and nasty person, and he tears down everyone around him. Sound familiar? I'm not the delusional or unhappy or unsuccessful or unlovable one here. It's you and it's always been you and all the hurtful things you say to everyone around you is just a projection of yourself.

  I hope you know that when you die, and I'm sure it'll be coming up soon, I'm not coming to your funeral. It would be dishonest. You mean nothing to me. What you are for me is a stepping stone. You have made me a great, strong, independent and compassionate woman because YOU personally put me through so much shit. You made me grow up fast and learn what NOT to do for my children, to my loved ones, and to my partner. You taught me what NOT to do with my money.

  Let me tell you about me, since you obviously are unclear on who I am. I work four jobs. I'm a nanny , I work at Macy's, I work for a dog business, and I babysit regularly. I am a hard worker and I have a great work ethic. I have ambition. I am a positive person. I save my money and I think about the next steps I'm going to take- career wise, financially, and emotionally. I progress. I have six months worth of rent (Boston rent) saved, health insurance, a vet bill fund, a furniture fund, money for a new laptop for college, a college fund, a plane ticket fund, an emergency fund, and I'm setting up my retirement fund this month. I save. I'm responsible. I make more money than anyone my age. And I am going to go to school. What'd you do at college? You took fucking theater and literature? What do you do with those degrees? You sit at home and read books because you have no friends or life to experience and then you watch TV all day. You watch the history channel, huh? You watch shit for TV and your brain is SHOT. You come off like an illiterate retard when people meet you. Complete strangers find it uncomfortable to be around you because you're so out of it, drugged up, smelly, and depressing as fuck. I've never been around you ONCE where you didn't threaten suicide. What a pathetic life. You should be in jail getting raped by other nasty ass criminals like yourself. If I wanted to, I could put you there for all that you've done. Along with your spineless husband. You try to sit here and tell me I have no worth. That I'm unlovable? That I'm unattractive. That I have no ambition? Bitch, I'm beautiful, ambitious, lovable, and I do things for myself. Not for other people. I love myself and I love others. What do you do?

Don't fuck with me."

   But then she posts shit all over Facebook about how much she loves and worships my sister and how successful her and her boyfriend are and how proud she is of them. And you know what? It HURTS. It makes me so angry to have to admit that I am so beyond jealous that, somehow, in my mom's eyes- my sister is better than me. What did I do wrong? What do I have to do for my own mom to love ME? Just read it.

   "We just spent the weekend sending our daughter Anjuli,off to her new life in Shreveport,La. Stephen is starting his Phd. program at LASU.He earned a full ride and a stipend. Amazing in this economy. Friday,her dad helped with packing and Goodwill runs whill I cooked dinner. Saturday,we both went over and dug in. Dumpsters had a busy day. These 2 are fitting everything in their 2 sub-compacts.What they couldn't sell or give away was dumped. There are some really happy homeless people in Belmont today,LOL. It was really heartwarming to see the few things she did make room for. I spotted the "Cabby Patch" doll I made her when she was little and we couldn't afford a real one but I'd found a kit and bought an antique red velvet jumper and white gauze blouse to dress it in. Pots and pans they threw out. Cabby Patch and Pooh and her ghagra dresses she kept. We went home on Saturday night they said they'd follow us and catch a quick nap. Youthful optimism.When they showed up,they went straight to bed. We were happy to tuck them in, cat and ferret included, knowing they would now be able to drive in a straight line. Today's Anjuli's birthday and they are in Vegas. Happy Birthday sweetheart!"


   Who IS this person? Is she mean and nasty, is she mommy-dearest? Am I just a bad kid, doing things wrong and missing out on my much-craved mom-attention? Oh, that's right. It's all just bullshit. It takes some serious mental and emotional strength from my part to re-direct my thinking and remind myself that she is, in fact, a crazy person and I do much better without her and my family's influence. Why do people like my parents even exist? 


   Needless to say, I was in a somewhat emotional place after my interaction with my mom and her stupid email. Not catatonic, but bummed for sure. I just want to share (because it makes me all warm and fuzzy inside) two lovely emails two of my very awesome Pseudo Moms wrote to my mom. Their like my little support-warriors or something. 

   "When Tara was placed in my class a few years ago, I thought to myself, wow, what an articulate, funny, sweet, caring, talented, stunning young woman. She reached out to other students who were having a difficult time. She had intelligent ideas to contribute to class. She produced great artwork. I was delighted to get to teach this student since she was such a positive addition to our class.

It was only after knowing her for over a year that I learned of her struggles at home. When I began to realize the scope and scale of issues she was dealing with, I was shocked (and impressed) that she had managed to come to school each day, keep up with her challenging classes, and maintain a positive attitude. I wanted to report her case to Child Protective Services, but she had just turned 18 a week before and no longer qualified for their intervention.

I have been an educator for over 20 years. It is my personal and professional opinion that a parent’s number one responsibility must always be to love and protect one’s child. The things Tara has had to endure while under your “care” are horrific. And the failure of Tara’s father to remove his children from this abusive nightmare makes him just as guilty in my mind.

In case you feel Tara has misrepresented you, let me say this, I have personally read a few of your emails/texts/facebook posts to Tara (your own words). You manage to say more toxic and cruel statements in one paragraph than my mother has said to me in a lifetime. Even during my most awkward, scrawny, pimply-faced, teenaged years, my mother made me feel beautiful. She still tells me regularly. When I didn’t know what to do with my life, she made me feel like I could do anything. Her love and support has been unwavering. That love and consistency has been the solid foundation on which I have built my life.

So, even if I knew none of the history between you and Tara, other than what I gleaned from your writings, I would know that you are cruel. When Tara tells me what she had to endure, I believe her because she has always been straight with me, her stories have been consistent, and your own toxic writings tell me that there is something going on under your roof that is horribly disturbing.

I wish you and your daughter didn’t have this terrifying, dysfunctional history, because if you could see her as a loving mother would, you would be so proud of her. I have worked with over 3000 children. Tara is one of the most resilient, tough, determined, responsible people I know.

The silver lining to the dark cloud of Tara’s childhood is that I get to have this amazing young woman in my life. Tara is family to me and I know the Heyengas feel the same way. How lucky for us that we get this strong, fun, talented, charming, hardworking, smart, fierce person in our worlds.

I recognize that you are incapable of having a loving, healthy relationship with Tara, so I would like to ask you politely to leave her alone. After all she has been through, it seems only fair that she be given a fresh start and an opportunity to heal."

"Helga -- Why do you continue to harangue Tara with these at-best obnoxious and pathetic, probably intended to be evil emails telling her what a loser she is??.   GIven where you are in your life, and what a failure of a life it appears to be, you have no soapbox to stand on, no high horse to look down from.  You don't model ANY good behavior as a mother or female figure.  You have defnitely taught her what NOT to do or behave like, so there is that.    What are you doing with your college degree?   what important and exciting work are you doing?  do you exercise daily?  do you eat thoughtfully and carefully?   did you raise your kids well or do they all have major issues with you?    You have a lot of nerve throwing this stuff at Tara when your own house is in such disrepair.  Could you support yourself if your husband came to his sense

 

Tara is going to Boston in part because of Ethan of course, but also because she wants to be brave enough to learn a new and exciting city and grow as a person.  She will definitely go to college, and while we don't have much money we will help her out a bit as best we can.   I don't think young women attach themselves to college jazz musicians thinking she will be rich and have a free pass.   I am quite sure Tara is aware that Ethan will meet girls in college -- just as Tara will meet guys (men find her extremely beautiful and flirt with her a lot, and to her credit she doesn't buy into it because she has a boyfriend and doesn't play those games to boost her self-esteem).  They are young and may well "take a break" or not last as partners.  If they are meant to be together it will happen.  Ethan and Tara both know that Tara is part of our family now regardless of their status as boyfriend & girlfriend.  They have a strong friendship and the "worst case" scenario is that they become friends and family, and ensure their mutual partners like each other so that they will both have richer lives with more people to "connect the dots" should their romance end, as will Tom and myself.      Either way our circle of family and people we love grows.   How is your family growing?  been getting visits from your baby boy much?  does he call just to say hello because he enjoys chatting with you?

 

You have been such a toxic influence to Tara, but you don't hold power over anyone outside of your family.  You are able to prey on small children and now that Tara has seen how healthy people live, that daily life can be constant and fun and supportive and normal, there is no going back for her.   You did your best to break her but she is strong and smart and you were not able to break her spirit.  She can heal and have a positive life.  

 

I feel sorry for you because you will never have those things, and did not get the help you desperately and clearly needed to make yourself emotionally well when it was a possibility.

 

I don't know why Tara reads your emails frankly.... but expect at some point she will put a block on them or just delete them without reading them."

   After I read their emails, I got this super awesome vision of hundreds of emails from all sorts of people being sent to my mom about how lame she is. And it made me happy. And then I thought about egging her! It's mature, I know.