A Story for Later

Chapter 2

          Hi there everyone. If I were to ask you if the individual pictured above were homeless, what would you say? Obviously no, but she is actually. Anyone could be homeless, whether it is the lady behind the cash register, the man behind the computer, or the one serving you your coffee at Starbucks. Masking the struggle is becoming a new norm. 

        I moved out of my toxic and abusive household back in August of 2022. I went to college thinking that all my problems were solved. I thought to myself that if I just work hard and get scholarships, I will have a place to stay and learn. I got my first job soon after I joined college, and I stayed for 3 semesters in a row. Besides being expensive, college is very fun and freeing. I met my first partner who happened to be the same gender as me. Sometimes things just kind of happen and stay that way. I mostly avoided going home especially after I got with my partner. I tended to go to her house and family gatherings because they were far less toxic than my family gatherings where my parents would just fight and bicker with each other the whole time. Things were going great as I pushed my biological family away and let my partners family come in closer everyday. But soon, things jolted to a stop at college. I could no longer afford it and could no longer get loans. After the Summer semester, I would officially have no way to attend any further. By this time, I had landed a profitable career with an evergrowing company that I never plan to leave. Before this job, I had worked for some terrible people. The first place I worked for laid me off because I couldn't work certain days because of my controlling parents, so I went to the next place I could. I started working when I was only 15 by the way. So I went to work for the next company, and I got extremely abused by the management there. The lady was vicious that I worked for. She would grab me and shove me out of the way when she deemed I wasn't doing something fast enough, yell at me for any small mess up on the job, and even dumped a gallon of burning hot water on me in the back because I didn't know how to work with the sink. I stayed working there for about 3 years, and I also picked up a job working for a nice school bus company. I worked with special education students and learned so much about each one of them. That was a wonderful job. I also picked up my third job at a castle as a tour guide, server, and hostess. I did all this to stay away from my hateful parents. 

        When I was growing up, I witnessed my mom get arrested for domestic violence. My mom and dad both are very narcissistic, and my dad tends to lean on the more sneaky side. He will act nice to get information from people, then use it against them later. My mom on the other hand mostly had fits of explosive rage where she would get physically violent. I honestly got slapped by her once, and I got hit by my father multiple times. More times to count honestly. Growing up, I was afraid of him. He used to take a board that had sharp edges on it, and would hit the back of my legs with it, that left red marks, for anything really, whether it was talking back, messing with something, or getting on his nerves. My parents both used religion as their backbone for their behavior. The raised my siblings and I to be both backwards and hateful people growing up. Not to mention he isolated us from everyone remotely normal that was our age. The only people we were allowed around were people that fell into the same religion as them. That's all it was, they trained us not to think for ourselves. They taught us to believe only what others believe. They enrolled us in strictly Fundamentalist schools or churches, and if we wanted to go to a normal public school, or a non-Denominational church, we were immediately shut down. We had no voice. It was their way or the highway. They dictated our friends growing up, our partners, or lack there of, what we wore, and what we ate. My brother and I did not discover sex until we were over 19 years of age. I don't even think my brother really knows or understands what it is to this day. Another thing my parents used to do was accuse us of things we would never even think of doing, such as my brother and I having sex together. He would also accuse me of having sex with family members, or used to accuse my brother of hitting on my biological mother. He accused me of stealing when I never genuinely stole from anyone. Soon, my brother and I became very shifty to get what we wanted or needed. If we wanted to see a friend, we would like and say we are seeing someone from their approved 'people group.' Another thing is that my dad was very sexist. He used to get my brother lots of nice things right in front of my sister and I. I literally had my mattress on the floor while my brother was getting a nice loft bed with a built in desk and shelf underneath. Mind you, I never once disliked my brother. We always got along no  matter what because we both knew my dad was in the fucking wrong. Another thing is, my dad would get mad whenever I dared hang out with my mom. How dare I hang out with my biological mom. He left a scratch on my car with a rock that cost over $1,000 to properly repair. Another time, my parents caught me on my first date at the age of 19! Yep, you guessed it, he called the freaking cops on my first partner I ever tried to date. I was not allowed around boys ever growing up unless they were in the 'right sector' that they wanted. Thank goodness I cut them out of my life. I started going after men way older than me at that point. At least they seemed mature. They treated me way better than my father ever did. Until they started cheating on me because of my lack of experience and knowledge in the sexual areas, trying to traffic me, or mostly just being very flaky. After the first ex, my parents did not figure out about my other 'significant others' past that point, until my most current one that is. Unfortunately. 

Sometimes I hear stories that my mom is so fed up with my dad that she is seeing a lawyer, punching him in the eye, and generally defending herself against him. The only thing I am not hearing is the fact that she won't just leave him. It is so damn abusive there and it bleeds through. The physical house they live in is even a few shades of grey darker than when they first moved in. Paranormal activity reigns in that house, and they used to blame it all on me. Stories for later if ya'll are interested that is. 

           So that right there is the reason I would rather be homeless, and living out my car. It is better than that for sure. My partner and I can be together in peace, and we don't have to worry for our safety or sanity.