The Queendom

Taboo Word  9/14/16

Once upon a time, there was an evil prince, and he found himself a princess.  Neither of them knew the other was sick, or just how sick they were.  They were together a year before they had a child.  The child was a girl, a princess, and now the woman was a queen.  She was a queen_mary_of_romania_3wicked queen.  They had another child.  The child was a boy, a prince, and now the man was a king.  He was wrong.  He thought he was still the king but the queen was a wicked, evil, queen and she ruled over the kingdom, and she ruled over the king as well.

So the queen and the king had another child.  The child was a boy, another prince, and the queen continued to rule of what was now the queendom.  The two princes both wanted to become the king some day, and they battled with each other, each attempting to be the better prince.  The queen continued ruling over the queendom, and the princess seemed to be pushed aside, forgotten.

So the king decided that his only resource was the princess.  He would take the princess around the queendom, showing her all the wonders that existed within the land.  There were trees and lakes, hills and valleys, and all that the princess saw overwhelmed her. 

But one cold night, the king crept into the bed of the princess, and he held her, touched her, told her how beautiful she was.  In the queendom, the princess was not well liked.  The two princes would fight with her all the times, and the other children in the land would pick fights with her as well.  This made the princess feel bad, and sometimes she would even cry.  She would cry at night when no one could hear her.  The king thought he was at least powerful to the princess, if not the queen, and that made him happy.

The king went to the princess many, many nights, and the princess became scared, especially at night.  The king started to hurt the child, because his sickness caused him to prey upon the little girls.  Having the princess right there in the palace made his visits very satisfying to him.  When he would leave her, the princess would become very angry any time the king came near her, and he did every time that every chance he got when the queen wasn’t around.

The queen was very evil and she treated the princess and the princes very badly.  She gave them very little to eat, and kept all the good things for herself.  She was angry with them and would treat them very roughly.

One by one, the souls of the princess and the princes became very dark.  They had learned from the queen and her lessons were very well absorbed by each of them.  None of them wanted to continue, and all wanted to flee the palace.  But there was nowhere to flee to.  One by one, as soon as they were old enough to make this a go on their own, they left the palace for good.

The king died from loneliness, and the queen ran off with another king.  The children of the king and queen, unfortunately became as evil as the queen, and took their anger out on every one in the kingdom, until one night, and group of princes crept upon them very quietly, and ended the misery they were causing, and the misery that lived within each of them.  Then once again there was a prince, and he waited, and waited to find a princess….



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Family – Real Or Not?

I have a small family. I have a large extended family. I have a spiritual family. I have an online family.  🙂

I am not currently engaging with anyone in my family(ies), except I am always engaging with my online family, both here and on Facebook. My small family consists of myself and two brothers. One has distanced himself so far away that I never hear or see him (except for my mother’s funeral). He does not call or send greeting cards for any occasion. My other brother lives far away and I don’t get to see him often. He is the youngest and, like myself, has many talents. If I would have to name my closest family, it’s the family I have with him and his wife.

I have no sisters, and I am the oldest in the family. All of us scattered far away from the place we called home, but was just a house with five people living inside. ‘Home’ was a tiny town in Upstate New York. Now the oldest brother lives in Sanders KY, the youngest in Whitesboro TX, and I reside in Racine, WI. We all are spread far from home, and each other.

If I were to ask myself why this might have happened, the answers are difficult to actually form as words on the computer screen. All three of us were emotionally and physically abused by my mother, and I also lived with sexual abuse from my father. Maybe if we lived closer together, it would trigger some of those old memories that are buried deep inside each of us. I’m sure that our perspectives were all different, as we all remember things in different ways. But I know that we all have some memories that will always haunt us, whether we are able to voice them or not. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brothers and sister-in-law very much and that will never change.

There is one other person that I would have to add as family. He was my mother’s boyfriend after my father died, and before she died of cancer. He is like a dad to me, a real dad who loves me, cares about what and how I’m doing, and shows this often. The only problem is that he lives back in New York, and I don’t see him very often, and his phone calls are sporadic, as he is always busy traveling around the country, or bowling, or any of a number of things. He is my ‘Dad’.

So, I live a solitary life, occasionally interacting with some of my neighbors, but not often. It’s just myself and my cat. She is good company but doesn’t compare to live human beings. I do not feel loved, or needed, or even cared about, at times.

I continue on, often in the throes of depression, but I kicked the alcohol 17 years ago. I kicked the cigarettes almost nine years ago. But I still do not take care of myself. They ask me every time they see me if I have eaten, how often do I eat, and what do I eat when I do eat. I do not exercise, except when I’m competing in sports that are adapted for wheelchair users. I forget to take medications all the time. They don’t work well if I don’t take them.

Sometimes I just want to give up. Being alone is a hard, but a safe way for me to live. I have at times given up and the results were never good. So I keep on going, family or no family.

No Is Never Enough (Previously published “With All The Lies, Who Am I?”)

Being ignored as a child, I wasn’t taught anything that I was supposed to have been. Instead I learned how to lie to cover my butt and save myself a beating. As I grew a little older, it just became ingrained.  I would make up things to explain why something was broken, or missing, or just not satisfactory to my mother.

I do believe that she never had one good thing to say about any of my accomplishments.  I wasn’t real at times like this.  I used to perform music at school concerts. Band, choir, duets, solos, even playing the piano, which she didn’t know I could do.  She was always there because she had to take me there.  But she never said a word about it at any time after.

I felt I didn’t do it well enough.  I wasn’t good enough, and that’s why she didn’t like me.  I learned that at a very young age, but just existed in a world where all these people around me (only in school) didn’t like me either.  I was smart and they didn’t like that.

But one thing that really stands out today, is how I was never allowed to be sick.  She had to admit that I was sick when I came home from Kindergarten with Chicken Pox.  So I missed some school due to that.  Once I was well again, I never stayed at home, no matter how sick I felt.  I had a running total of perfect attendance at school, right up until my Senior year, when my parents and I got stranded in a blizzard and no one was allowed to be on the roads for any reason.

The police took us to the Salvation Army, who took us to this rickety, old hotel, where people actually lived.  There was one room for the three of us.  We spent 4 or 5 days there, I can’t remember for sure, but for me it was pure hell.  But that broke my perfect attendance record.

Now she’s gone and I can go out if I want to, or I can stay home if I want to.  I still feel guilty, though, if I don’t go somewhere that I was supposed to go.  I have to make up a story as to why I wasn’t going.  My reasons were never good enough.  Sometimes I went anyway, because of the guilt I was feeling.  But I’m still never good enough. And just saying “no” is never enough…

~ van ~

No One Is Supposed To Know

Life growing up was never easy for me,
Things happening that no one could see,
Sometimes I just want to shout,
And get all the bad stuff out.

First GradeBut life doesn’t always work that way,
Told what to think, and what to say,
If you stepped outside this boundary,
You’d find yourself in quite a quandary.

So, I kept it all inside,
All the things I had to hide,
I was picked on all through school,
But still the home life had to rule.

Don’t say a word, he would say,
Don’t behave in such a way,
A way where someone else might see,
What was hidden inside of me.

Things a child shouldn’t have to bear,
A life where no one seemed to care,
They all thought that I was just bad,
They didn’t know the life I had.

That was nearly forty years ago,
And still it’s hard to let someone know,
Talk with those who can help me feel,
Talk with those who can help me heal.

– van –

Sexual Abuse

Incest.  There I said the word.  My therapist read from a book about incest, the description of what it is.  She was using words that I was very uncomfortable with, but I was able to tell her that.  Words that describe sexual relations, and organs – words that I never utter.
I think maybe the reason why, is that even though I was very young when it started, those words put pictures in my mind that I don’t want to look at.  I am uncomfortable because they remind me of specific parts of the abuse, and I don’t want to remember them.  I want them not to have happened.  They changed my life forever.
As a young adult, not even 18 yet, I allowed myself to be ‘used’ by men, for the attention that got me.  If I did this, they would do that.  I was revolted during any encounter with members of the opposite sex.
The feelings were there, but I washed them away with alcohol.  Alcohol took me away from all the abuse, at least I thought it did.  But I remember crying in the middle of the street because someone didn’t come to the door.  I lived in the middle of anger, fear and revulsion with my life, but I did nothing to change it.  I was letting him to continue to abuse me, even when he was over 100 miles away.
I am starting on a journey, to specifically work through these emotions and feelings, and hopefully get to the point where they no longer control my life.  They cannot harm me.  He cannot harm me.

Sick And Alone

I don’t feel very well today,
It makes me want to go away.
Far from all that makes me ill,
Or else, win again, he will.
Every night as bedtime comes,
I’m looking all around for Tums.
Anything that will make me well,
Not a word, I will not tell.
At times I seem to be okay,
And then I don’t know what to say,First Grade
Anything that will make me well,
Not for years did I tell.
All the pain that he caused me,
Why is it no one else could see,
That something was wrong with my life,
I dreamed of sleeping with a knife.

Why Do I Hate Me?

Why do i hate me?

Issues (Photo credit: t3hWIT)

What did I do to me?

What did I do to you?

What did I do to everyone else?

When did I become like this?

Was it the first time I didn’t tell, 

thus couldn’t ever tell?

Why did the lies start?

Because I hate myself. 

~ van ~

Why Do I Keep All This Stuff?

Question mark liberal
Question mark liberal (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You might think that I’m speaking of all the books on the shelves, or the 30 t-shirts stuffed into four different drawers, or maybe the 17 different coffee cups that clutter my cabinets.

No, I’m speaking about all the junk that I still keep in my head, though it serves me no purpose any longer.  I have fifty-some years of stuff that has come into and gone out of my head, and then there’s the stuff that comes in and never leaves.

I can tell you the name of every cat I’ve had since I was about four.  I have my mother’s social security number in there, and she has passed away.

I can tell you about drunken escapades that happened 30 years ago.

But the thing that really bothers me, is the stuff that comes in and goes right back out again.  This can happen in the middle of a sentence or conversation.

Maybe it’s just because I already have too much stuff in there, and there is no room for any new information or ideas.

How do you get rid of all that stuff?

~ van ~