Locker Room Switch

As the Trump campaign marches on, he just keeps doing more and more outrageous, offensive stuff, and the people who are already opposed to him are horrified of course, but his supporters remain strong. While a lot of people are shocked and appalled at his words, especially about women, I am not surprised. Donald Trump speaks for a lot of men as far as I'm concerned, based on my life experiences. I've worked in bars and restaurants for most of my adult life, and unfortunately all the disgusting things Donald Trump has said pales in comparison to some of the things I've heard and had to deal with over the years.
When I hear people defending this talk as "locker room talk" it seriously makes me sick. That's part of the problem, that's why we have entitled men who think this is okay. Women excuse it as "boys will be boys" I can't tell you how many times I've had a problem with something some perv has said to me, and female coworkers have almost shamed me for being offended. It's really a tragedy that I got sucked into that line of work, because I am definitely not made for dealing with that stuff.
We like to think that sexual harassment is a thing of the past because we have so many laws, and blah blah blah. But, it does exist, and there are so many reasons why people don't speak up. When you don't have a ton of employment options, it can be scary to think about standing up for yourself and losing your job. Landlords in my experience don't care if you're being harassed at work, they care about rent.
I don't know what will make things better, but I know that someone like Donald Trump will only make things worse. He's reminding all the people who harbor racism, hatred, and misogyny that it's not only okay to think that way, but if you really luck out you might be able to run for president.

To Therapy or Not?

It's been awhile since I've posted anything on here. It's kind of nice to feel no real pressure. I think of this as my diary. I just pop on here when I have something I'm feeling or need to say, and I have no one to say it to. I've been battling depression, and it's making life difficult. I was flirting with the idea of therapy, even made some calls to find a therapist who works on a sliding scale/fee. Not an easy thing to find. There are three offices here that offer sliding scales, and they all have waiting lists. Now, I'm rethinking therapy. I have so many horror stories of therapy. And I met my adoptive parents through therapy. My "mom" was my therapist at one point. She has helped me make some decisions in my life that I deeply regret, and have and continue to cause me a lot of pain. One of those decisions was to be adopted by them. I don't know what I was thinking. But that's always been a weakness of mine, I don't look at how decisions I make now might affect my future. But she was the adult, and the therapist so that should have been her job. So, it's hard for me to imagine sitting in a therapist's office spilling all my inner most feelings. And no amount of therapy will bring me any kind of family, or family closeness. The fact is that I am alone in this world. I mean, I have my cats, and I know I have a scant few people I could call a friend, but I don't have any family. I don't have a childhood home, or my old bedroom to go to escape, or get the warm and fuzzies. I don't have anyone to talk to about my childhood memories. Sometimes I wonder if they're even real, or did I make them up in my head?
Having just gone through a rather traumatic experience, I feel like having a loving family member to talk to and seek comfort would be really helpful.
Therapy also won't help me break out of the minimum wage rut. That's another thing that makes me sad and also angry, and more recently deeply ashamed. I know that therapy can help you find ways to solve what is troubling you, or at least learn how to accept, see the positive, blah blah blah. But between my own feelings of doubt, and the trouble I've had finding someone, I feel like therapy is just not what I need. It's like I've gotten to the point in life where I have to pay someone to care enough to listen to me. And that makes me more depressed than anything.
                             

Coping With No Closure

Closure is an important thing. I think most therapists would agree. It's really hard to accept and move on from a situation when there is no closure. I've learned that the hard way throughout my life. Every single day of my life I wish I could have some type of closure with my real family. When M and D adopted me, that was that. I never went and said goodbye, I never went and collected any of my stuff, it was just done, like they had never existed. Why didn't I question that? Why didn't I request a visit? I honestly don't know. When I look back to those first months of being adopted, it's like a total blackout. Like I don't remember anything. I do this thing where it's like I almost leave my body when things are too much for me to handle emotionally.
I never got to tell my grandparents how much I loved them, and how they were such a bright spot in my childhood. They made me feel loved and special which I so desperately needed. They were the yin to my birth mom's yang.
I'll also never have closure with my adoptive parents because they are completely incapable of admitting any flaws, or wrongdoing. I've actually always known this about them, because I've seen it in other situations with other people. They are both really, really good at pointing out other peoples flaws, and they're excellent at judging people. Somehow, their flaws are just filed under  "I know I'm not perfect but Jesus" while other people need to fucking figure it out and make the changes that they feel need to happen. They also lack the ability to see anything from anyone else's perspective. I know that for years they have both argued that the other is too controlling. Like I'm talking huge blowout arguments, the kind that shake a house. Yet, neither one has ever even contemplated if there is any truth to what the other is saying. From my perspective I can say with 100 percent certainty that they are both uber controlling.
I was surprised when I moved back to Erie to see them arguing in the same way and over the same things. They're both therapists, so you'd think it wouldn't be too hard to look within yourself.
I'm saying all of this to say that I will never have closure with them, they will never understand where I'm coming from. All they know is that I am wrong. I am a sinner because I don't believe, therefore I am condemned to a life in hell, and I am a cold, vile person for not thinking they saved me and that they are awesome and amazing. My feelings and thoughts will not only never be accepted, but they won't even be heard or entertained for a second. It's a hard thing to deal with. I'm trying to figure out what to do with my feelings and thoughts. I know I have to let them go, but it's just so frustrating. I feel like since I can't express how I feel to them, it's just simmering inside me like a disease. I've been doing guided meditation focusing on letting go, and it is helping, but I just know I have a long road ahead of me.

Holding On Letting Go

I was watching an episode of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on Netflix the other night, and one of the characters said the funniest thing. He said " That's all parenting is, pretending you know what you're talking about, and jamming it down your kid's throat" Man, that show is so hilarious. I think that's what my adoptive parents thought when they adopted me. All they had to do was keep talking about God and Jesus, and eventually I would see the light so to speak. I mean, I met them while I was in a Christian group home. What was I thinking? I remember that the people who ran/worked at the group home were super strict/radical some(me) would almost call crazy/militant so I think they seemed "cool" in comparison.
I remember they made me go to church with them in the beginning. My adoptive dad, let's call him M, his side of the family is SUPER religious. Like the kind of religious where it seems like any kind of love or light, or laughter is considered a sin. Like going to his mothers house was a lesson in depression. It was suffocating, uncomfortable and just plain miserable. Even during holidays, no joy, no peace, just anger and religion.
Through the years church was used a punishment, when I would stay out too late, or do whatever to piss them off, well, one of my punishments would be church.
One of the greatest things I learned while living in Seattle was that it's okay to not be a Christian. I mean, I knew it was technically okay, but it was also shoved down my throat that while it was okay, you pretty much are a piece of shit who's going to be tortured for all eternity.
As I'm working through my anger, which comes and goes. Anger is a very brutal beast I've learned. Anyway, as I work through my anger, I'm coming to the conclusion that this is really no one's fault. They are who they are, and they feel very strongly about God and all of that. But I also am who I am, and I was raised with different beliefs. The problem is that with them, and to be honest most Christians I've met, it's their way or the highway.So, they are who they are, and I am who I am.
My anger comes from the fact that they just arrogantly assumed their way is right, and they just thought I would denounce the beliefs I have and was raised with.
It became unbearable to have any conversations with D, (adoptive mom) because the root of all of my problems according to her is the fact that I don't allow Jesus in. She is unable to see any good in me. All she can see is that Jesus is not my savior.
I'm trying to let go of the anger I feel towards them and it is so hard. I have no relationship with them, and I genuinely don't want one, but I do want to lose this anger. Because even though I have no contact with them, I'm still allowing them in my life. I don't want to hold onto anger and resentment for the rest of my life. That's one of my biggest fears. I hope writing about it becomes a release.

Why I'm Here

I think I moved to SLC for a reason. Obviously I moved here for a reason, but I mean I moved here for a bigger reason. A bigger reason than simply "it's cheaper than Seattle" Last week I was walking to catch my bus, and I've been experimenting with taking different streets to get more familiar with this city. I walked by a house that instantly made me feel something, it sparked a memory. I stopped and thought about it, and I realized that the house I saw reminded me of my grandparents house. The house they lived in when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents as a child. My mom would go off on one of her adventures, and I would stay with them till she got it out of her system. I never wanted to leave, I always wanted to stay.
But the house, and the street, and something in the air made me think of them, and that time in my life. Time spent with my grandparents are some of my happiest memories.
The weather here reminds me of the weather in Ohio where I grew up. Not everyday, but mainly when it rains. It doesn't just rain, first it gets windy, sometimes blustery, and a lot of times it thunders and lightnings. It doesn't rain often here, it's no Seattle, but when it does it's an event! It rained like that in Ohio a lot. I remember many summer thunderstorms. I haven't lost electricity yet, but in rural Ohio it happened with almost every storm.
These are my memories, my stories, my experiences. I feel like my memories were pushed aside when I was adopted. I guess I didn't notice, or care. My adoptive parents are really good at telling people what they should or shouldn't be feeling. So, it never felt safe to talk about good memories, I saw the hurt look in their eyes when I would. Looking back, I can see that the hurt was a genuine feeling, and you can't be mad at people for their feelings, but at the same time I believe that I have a right to my memories, it's a part of me. I have a right to acknowledge that my childhood had good times, not just bad, and I had good people in my life. I denied those memories for so long, and even though they help shape who I am, it was like they never existed.
I think I moved here so I can remember who I was, where I came from. It sounds silly to say, because I'm very far away from where I came from, but it all feels very familiar. And I am here alone, except for my cats. No one to tell me what or how to feel. Or that "you just shouldn't think of that stuff" And I think I keep coming across things that jar my memories because it's been long enough. If I sincerely want to be happy and healthy, I have to deal with my past, and all of the confusion that goes along with it.