Tuesday, January 31, 2012

I get emails

And I send them.

I just spent an hour and a half reading, responding to, and sending emails, all because my time for emailing last night was taken up by homework.

Now I have a crick in my neck.

Oh well, time for dinner and then my first Opera and Oratorio class!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

It's the little things

Content Note: This is part two of a series on abuse. Part One. Trigger warning for substance abuse and bullying.
Yesterday I had to get a bag of miscellaneous (but important) things that I accidentally left at my mother's house. It's a two hour drive to get there, about 4.5 hours round trip, so I stayed overnight.

I'm mostly okay physically. I just wish I had driven back last night instead of overnighting it.

I started a different post to continue this series shortly after I finished the last one, but I have yet to finish it. In the meantime, things have continued to escalate.

I mentioned last time that my brother had a beer in his hand when he yelled at me. I didn't make a huge deal of it because his behavior was inexcusable regardless of his level of sobriety. However, there's that, and then there's substance abuse.

Last night my brother took prescription meds that weren't his for a "hurt shoulder." I can't make any statement on the veracity of that claim, but I can say that he took more of the other person's medicine, actually went over the dosage for the day. He also said both that he felt fine and that the medicine wasn't helping. My conclusion is that he wanted to get high. He argued with my mother over taking this greater dose, and ended up taking it anyway. And then he went for the beer, after arguing with both me and my mother about the wisdom of that decision. And kept arguing every time he went to get one, because one of us would speak up, and he would just keep going until we stopped responding, and then get another beer.

Meanwhile, we were both alarmed and worried that he was going to accidentally kill himself because of the drug interactions mixed with the overdose. He completely disregarded our feelings in favor of getting drunker. He was not making good decisions, but seemed convinced that because he had tried something similar before, he was automatically going to be fine again.

So naturally this whole situation was making me deeply uncomfortable, especially given the alcoholic step-father who just left. More than anything, I want to never see my brother again.

And you know what really irritated me last night, instead of just upsetting me? At one point he decided that while I was on my computer, he was going to show me pictures on his phone regardless of whether I wanted to or not. I in fact told him that I didn't want to, and he insisted, "Just look at them all, it won't take long." Since he was shoving it in my face and not moving it until I looked, I didn't really have a choice.

Once again proving that he doesn't care about what I want, and will force me to do things against my will. And that ticks me off.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Dinner and a trap

[Content note: This blog entry discusses abuse, first in the abstract and then with an example. It's my own story. Triggering content is marked before it moves into a detailed description of an abusive situation.]

[If you or someone you know is in an abusive situation, physical or not, you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline (US & Canada): 1-800-799-SAFE* or check out their site. RAINN is a site particularly for sexual abuse.

*1-800-799-7233 if you're like me and have a full keyboard on your phone.]

This is probably my third or fourth attempt at blogging on this topic. Likely, I'll continue it later, but it's something that's been on my mind a lot and I would like to share, even though I have lots of voices in my head telling me that family things are private, that I have no right to talk about abusive behavior because it's not mine to share, that I shouldn't ever embarrass people in public, because being embarrassed in public is worse than being tormented in private, that...

To those voices I would like to say: Shut up and go to hell. I write because it's healing. I write because those who perpetuate abusive systems and situations, and then demand the right to privacy, are asking me to shut up and deal with the very real emotional stress it puts on me without ever being able to get help for it. They're asking me to participate in my own abuse.

I write for those who can't say these things.


Friday, January 13, 2012

These are a few of my favorite things

Yesterday over at Shakesville the question was asked, "What is your favorite thing about yourself?"

Reading through the thread of responses is awesome. I actually gave two responses. The first was something I took some time to think of: I love my ability with animals and children; most animals and many children take to me pretty much instantly upon meeting me, and as a result I've made a great many four-legged (and young two-legged) friends. The second was a response to someone else declaring that it was okay to love it (as a woman*): I love my intelligence and the many different things it allows me to do.

And here, because I'm still thinking about it: I love my artistry and that I've tried many different arts and enjoyed most or all of them. I love the musical mindset my major has strengthened, I love the way I dance, and I love my photography and writing. And I love my voice and other musical abilities.

*Because smart women tend to face hostility from men, at least from my experiences.

What about you? What is/are your favorite thing or things about yourself? And just as on Shakesville, this can be anything from a physical descriptor to a personality trait, to a skill, to anything else you can think of.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Holiday Wrap-Up Post

This blog has been on hiatus mostly because I've been having too much fun to want to post. Among other things, I haven't posted about holiday baking, because I get bored about five seconds after deciding to upload photos. So! No photos yet. We'll see about later this week.

[Two-week summary after the cut. It's long.]