Hi, my name is Andromeda, I use he/it pronouns and I am a member of the Rose Family (DID System). I lost the first 18 and a half years of my life to my abusive birth parents, and now that I’m free, I hope to tell my story to those who listen.
Had another old memory triggered where I was about 9 or 10 years old and my egg donor and I were going clothes shopping (clothes shopping was always stressful because she’d always criticize my body). I was commenting on the fact that the pants we were finding were too long for me and, in a totally “respectful” manner, she yells at me-for literally the entire old navy store to hear-that it was because I was too fat for the smaller clothes. Like she could’ve just said “it’s the only sizes we could find” or “we can just hem the pants”. Nope. Had to literally yell at her 10 years old daughter that she was fat.
Even now, I still struggle with finding pants that fit okay because I’m about 5 feet nothing and have a large gut but that’s okay. It’s literally not the end of the world. Like that’s why hemming exists. These memories still hurt but I’m getting to a point of acceptance. What happened has happened and now I’m here, safe and surrounded by folks who can help me and accept me for who I am.
I have been gone for a while, but happy mother’s day to the mom who accepted every part of me. She was always there during the worst parts so she can see the best parts of me
It’s kinda like the same thing as “everyone has autism all of a sudden” or “everyone is trans all of a sudden”: It’s not that it’s becoming more common or a trend, it’s just that we know live in a world where people are comfortable enough to talk about their experiences without being shut down or ridiculed, therefore more people are being more open with their experiences just in general
Y’all ever had y’all’s parents hit y’all with the “you’ll miss me when I’m gone” but y’all are so far removed from them that you’re lowkey like “I hope you’re gone sooner”💀
Y’all ever feel like trusting abusers is like putting your hands on a stove? Normal people don’t do it again but victims be like “nah it’ll be different this time” with a completely numb hand. I be feeling so stupid sometimes🤦🏾
Realizing your parents don't respect you is not for the faint of heart. Fully digesting the meal in front of you, a narcissistic mom and emotionally absent father, leaves you with stomach pains. You'll spend countless nights in your bed wondering what you did wrong, when it changed, if they ever loved you at all.
They have to love you, you're their child, but as a person, do they truly like you?
They don't show it in words. Commenting on your weight, belittling your fears, mocking your secrets. They don't show it in actions. Invading your space, breaking your things, forgetting you exist. They don't remember the things you like, what flavor is your favorite or what colors you refuse to wear. Instead they buy you vanilla flavored treats and an orange jumper hoping to make up for the words they spewed in anger.
Your mom will force you into hugs that feel suffocating hoping to bandage the bullet wound she left to get infected when you were a child. She'll buy you all the useless items you never wanted filling the gap in your relationship with rampant over consumerism. She'll tell you she loves you daily but wait expectantly for you to return the sentiment that leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. She'll break down crying and apologizing for what she did, the mess she made, only to repeat the cycle again tomorrow.
Your dad will stand off to the side and watch it happen. He'll encourage you to patch a relationship you dismissed years ago. He'll spoon feed you sentiments of how hard life is as if you're not living it. He'll snap and yell only to apologize and insist he loves you, you know that right? Though now, the apologies are few and far between. You'll have to bite your tongue as you watch the conflict behind his eyes. You know he's just as trapped as you are but you can't feel sorry for him anymore.
You'll mourn the loss of your mother as she serves you dinner and despise what your father has become as he picks at his food. None of you eat. A bite or two followed by a rushed excuse to leave is the normal, that's if you don't eat in your room.
You'll search for them in the crowd, hoping they took your invitation, but you're disappointed again. You eventually stop inviting them, the pain of their absence too much. They'll find out and ask you why you're ashamed of them, why you don't want them around for your accomplishments, and you'll shrug absent of emotion. You learned not to show emotion years ago.
You'll go to your friends houses and watch as their parents dote over them and they complain, the longing look in your eyes doesn't go unnoticed. You'll spend the night and pretend you belong, you take advantage of the kindness you seldom feel knowing that once morning comes its back to your parents. You'll relish in the radiating warmth and baby photos of a family you wish you had lining the walls. You'll wonder if you deserve the kindness and warmth, even if for just a moment.
This, of course, doesn't come without guilt. Every action has a reaction and as much as you can defend your side with logic you still feel bad for taking it. It isn't in one's nature to defy their parents, yet you do it with so much confidence you wonder if you're really a good person. After all they gave you a home, food and water, they paid for you to do sports in school and bought you all the newest technologies. But the shelter and food didn't come without a reminder of its source, and how easily it could be taken away. You never really liked sports either and the countless phones and laptops were just to steal your attention so they didn't have to give it to you.
You gave up the idea of a warm home and loving parents years ago. Left with a hole in your heart you fill with partners who act just like them. You're stuck in the riptide being thrown around and flipping in every direction until you don't know which way is up. You try desperately to break this curse you're under but old habits die hard and you're stubborn.
You know how to break the curse, by giving yourself the love you seek. Affirming the child in yourself that there's still time and work to be done. But you're so tired and not even sure you're capable of love much less deserving.
So you swallow the bite you're chewing and will the bile back down your throat. You ignore the tears stinging your eyes and the hammering in your chest. You ignore the pulling feeling leading you out in favor of laying back down in bed. You ignore the persistent ache in your heart. You sit with the stomach ache from your meal knowing deep down you have to feel it, there's no way around it. You sit and you hope that one day you can swallow something softer, something kinder, that fills your heart with warmth instead of wanting.
Hey y’all, I’m back with another hopefully relatable post! My PTSD recently has been pretty had after the new years to the point where I barely had time to breathe but things are calming down a bit and I’m hoping to fight my depression some more by writing again! I’ve been thinking recently about how there’s been a bit of a rise in estrangement. Although it’s been very few, some abusers think that their victims will come back because it’s “trendy” to cut off toxic people, and that maybe my biological parents could be in the same boat. Does it bother me? I’ll get to that near the end of it, but this is probably mostly be about mistakes that almost all parents make with their children, and not just abusive parents.
I’m sure nearly everyone reading this had been told “it’s just a phase/trend” with maybe an added “you’ll grow out of it”. Normal parents unfortunately do this as well with teenagers. I recently watched a Boze video where she basically said “how cool would it be to have a parent listen to your teenage angst?” How many people can honestly tell their parents that they’re struggling with mental health issues and not be judged? Unfortunately, not very many, which could be why many younger folks are on social media. Because they can get validation from strangers that their feelings and struggles are real. Compare it to how parents usually are, which is “it’s just hormones” or “you’re just growing up”. Or even worse, parents compare their own experiences to their child’s with stuff such as “I worked 3 jobs as a teenager” or “I was working on my dad’s farm at your age”.
In their defense, they’re not wrong. Yes, children are growing up. Yes, children may not have the experiences they did. But that doesn’t mean their feelings aren’t any less real. To a parent, a long term break up may not be as bad as making a mistake at work, but to a teenager, their life is basically over. They’re not being dramatic, it’s just how they feel. Even I, even though I’m only 21, think this sometimes. I’ll see kids vent on social media and sometimes my first thought is ‘they’ve never been homeless’ or ‘they’ve clearly never worked a day in their life’, instead of just accepting that that’s how they feel. You don’t have to agree with them, acknowledge the hurt and their feelings.
Eventually, you get to a point where the teenager just shuts down and decides to stop reaching out. Parents wonder why their child won’t tell them stuff when the writing is clearly on the wall. Because the child doesn’t want to be dismissed anymore. Being told it’s just hormones doesn’t help them in that present moment. That’s how teenagers end up with depression more often. Their mental health issues end up piling so high they just can’t see an end in sight and eventually end themselves. Obviously, every suicide involving teenagers is different and not always the parents’ fault, but it may contribute to some.
So, coming back to myself, I’ve said before that I’ve been told to be a drama queen and overemotional time and time again. Unfortunately, it was pretty fucking bad when I started getting in middle school and high school. Any time I was unhappy or angry, it was “hormones” or “me getting an attitude”. I remember being upset one time because a person I knew pretty well moved out of state without telling me and left me a pretty emotional note. My egg donor doesn’t even ask, just blasted into me about how I’m catching an attitude about “writing a thank you note” (I don’t remember what I was writing the thank you note for, but I remember being at the kitchen table under that stupid yellow light).
My depression was also pretty bad during middle school. My self esteem was pretty shit and I’m very sure I had bad body dysmorphia (thanks to y’all know who). I was self harming during that time and constantly tired and just generally feeling suicidal because I thought I was a bad person. Y’all know where this is going: “YOU’RE JUST BEING LAZY!” I’ll add y’all’s favorite as well: “You have food and shelter. Children in Africa are starving! What do you have to be sad about?!” Not very surprisingly, it made me more depressed. I also thought I was being lazy and hormonal and thought “I’m just being a teenager, I’ll grow out of it”. Yeah, unfortunately, I did NOT grow out of it and, in fact, got diagnosed with depression years later so…
Here’s a bunch of smaller stuff that also contributed:
I remember when I first started off writing, it was a fantasy sci-fi novel that I was starting. I thought the prologue was pretty cool but when I shared it with my sperm donor (and biological brother), they ended up just laughing at a specific part of the novel. No genuine criticism or “wow, this is great!” (Like my grandfather did), just straight up laughed at me. Needless to say, that was the last time I shared my writing. Another time, I tried informing my biological family that the r-slur was obviously a slur and, again, straight up laughed at. I was only 13 at the time, maybe they could’ve just had a polite discussion about it.
When I became an atheist, I unfortunately announced it to my biological family. Immediately, they cornered me by arguing with me and getting with me “gotcha” moments to convert me back. I was only 11 at the time, I just straight up wasn’t interested in being a Christian anymore. Even if it was a joke, at the time, I just felt suffocated. There was so much “well how were the planets created?” and stuff like that. Again, could’ve had a discussion.
When I shaved my head, aside from the stupid silent treatment I got, there was also comments such as “don’t tell me to buy you a wig when you regret it”. Like the thought of ME having thought the entire thing through was impossible being I was only 16. Even after months of shaving my head, my sperm donor basically called it bad (to be fair, it wasn’t a good job) only to get me to stop shaving my head. I remember he even once called me a stud (slur for lesbian) because I kept shaving my head.
Not only that, but when I stopped shaving just cuz I didn’t want to since it’s just too much work and started dressing more masculine, my egg donor called it an “lgbt lifestyle”. Like it was a lifestyle to be cool and not just to be more comfortable in my own skin?
When I came out as demipan during my freshman year, even though I got some push back, I was proud of who I was at the time. Like “wow, there’s a term for me!” The only response I got from my egg donor was “So? What does this have to do with grades?”. No, I didn’t get kicked out and yeah, I should be grateful for not having a worse reaction, but it felt like she just wasn’t interested in me aside from her own agenda. Like the only thing I was worth was good grades.
I eventually just started creating my own space. I just became one of those teenagers who relied on complete strangers to validate what I was going through. I still have mixed feelings because without the internet, I would’ve spent way longer under my biological parents’ thumbs and been completely miserable. Not to mention, it was the only place I could really be myself without being judged or dismissed. I remember so vividly that when I came out as nonbinary to my birth father, he straight up told me to my face “I’m not doing that pronoun crap”. Looking back, I should’ve been hurt. He just straight up treated my identity like a trend, like “crap”. It was a part of me that he just spat on. I was so detached from him that I felt nothing. I don’t even think I cried or even dwelled on his reaction, I just shrugged and said “well, I told him. Time to move on.”
It makes me depressed to think about because my feelings were put on the back burner so many times that when it did happen by people I was supposed to call my family, I just shrugged it off because I knew they were never going to change. Everything that made me “me” wasn’t actually “me”. I remember once when I was 18, 2 years into grey rocking and finally finding pieces of myself, my egg donor told me “stop trying to be someone you’re not”. And it sucked. Because when she claims “she knows me better than I know myself”, she only knows the woman she tried so hard to chisel out.
Even job wise was very hard. I really wanted to become a graphic designer, but she wanted me to be an engineer and I tried, but damn it was fucking stressful. I don’t regret trying graphic design. I remember peaceful days designing ads and posters and just being creative. I also remember days crying during engineering classes with my head aching just to create the same pattern as everyone else. I think that was when I realized she didn’t want me to be happy, she wanted self assurance. She wanted to tell herself that she raised a good woman even if I was miserable in careers that I hated. It was made obvious to me when I was accepted into college majoring in graphic design, but she was upset and angry all because I didn’t pick the major that was most lucrative.
“Stop being someone you’re not” meant that she never knew the real me at all. To my abusers, I’m an easily influenced selfish, dramatic girl who doesn’t know anything about the harsh real world. And I’ve been thinking about it recently with the rise of estrangement and wonder if they think my being upset and calling them out is also a “trend”. But does it bother me? No, but this time it’s not a place of detachment, it’s a place of acceptance. When I created my own space away from judgement and control, I ended up taking power away from negativity.
When I moved on from my transphobic sperm donor’s response, it wasn’t just detachment. It was the overwhelming support and positivity from other people, not just online. I remember my band teacher being the most excited (he tried to hide it); I remember every person who respected the name I chose and apologized for misgendering me. It wasn’t just a trend to them, it was part of me. I went from constant imposter syndrome, wondering if I was just depressed because it was cool to accepting parts of myself that weren’t considered cool or even parts that I don’t like about myself.
I guess I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve stopped listening to negative comments about parts of my identity, most likely because they don’t know the real me, only that part of me. Whether my piercings are “attention seeking”, or wearing a dress while having a beard is “disgusting”, it’s not something I have to fix for a stranger that I’ll never meet again. Because I’m so many things at once. That’s why my name is Andromeda, because there’s planets and stars that make up that galaxy, it’s not just once thing.
I’m funny, creative, hard-working, tough, book smart, and resourceful. I can also be hyper-independent and impulsive and I’m working on my anger issues because I self harm when I’m angry. I have dehabilitating depression, anxiety, PTSD, and STPD. I also might have OCD, but right now it’s just very bad intrusive thoughts. I have over 10 piercings, most on my face. I’m a black bear butch whose aromantic and pansexual that’s pretty hyper masculine and hypersexual, but I like doing make up and wearing goth clothes. I take edibles sometimes, I vape, I’m into BDSM, I’m a writer, I’m a crafter, I’m spiritual, and my family is made up of 215 alters within my DID system. I’m all of these things at once, but I’m also just me. These things just make me Andromeda. I’ve always been me, not matter how hard society tries to make me bury it.
This was a roundabout way to say “just be you”, but honestly, for me, that’s what it boiled down to. Cuz I tried because someone else and I was miserable. This was a pretty long one; I might’ve been a but preachy and rant-y at some parts, but I hope you guys at least got the jist of it and took something out of it (maybe cried and shit yourse-).
A lot of parents never earned their children's trust. They just felt entitled to it.
If you do things to your children that would easily be considered abuse if they did the same thing, you can't expect them to trust you as a source of knowledge about right and wrong.
If you regularly dismiss their struggles, you can't expect them to trust your advice.
Growing up I was not allowed to learn how to cook. My father considered it to be “women’s work” and I needed to spend nearly every free moment catering to his whims and performing manual labor for him because I was a “machine,” is how he referred to me. On the other hand my mother refused to let me learn because in her eyes I was stupid, careless, and not capable enough to learn.
Fast forward to today, I am cooking Christmas Dinner for my partner’s family. I feel so incredibly grateful to be here and be alive today. You can persevere and overcome incredible adversity, you are limitless. Healing is possible.
I know I’ve been gone for a bit, but I’ve been pretty busy recently so before I get more busy, I’ve decided to write about a memory that’s been popping up tonight. Recently, my PTSD has been pretty chronically bad lately (not really ramping up, but I’ve been having flashbacks daily) and with my depression combined, it’s been hard to write but I’m feeling a bit better today for reasons I’ll go over later in this post, but this post will have something more positive at the end, but trigger warning for temporary abandonment at the beginning. Anyway, let’s get into it!
I think I’ve referencing the fact that I ran away in 7th grade. Many parents assume that when kids run away that “they think they know better” or “they think they can live on their own” and although I can’t say ALL kids have the same reasons, the reason I ran away was to basically die. I knew I wouldn’t make it out there. It was December and it was actually pretty cold. I had no plans to go to a shelter, I just planned on going out to a field and starving to death or whatever I thought I had planned. Unfortunately, I never explained to my birth parents that due to the fact that I knew they’d twist it around on me. My birth father threatened to kick me back out into the blizzard (that was just starting) while my birth mother just told me I was so ungrateful and “grown”.
I won’t go into what happened while I was running away because it’ll be a bit much for me right now, but for weeks after that, my birth mother gave me the silent treatment. The only time she spoke to me was to basically yell at me. Not once did she say I love you back (while I was basically forced to say it because it would be “impolite” and “ungrateful”). I remember her yelling at me one day while dropping me off at school, insinuating that I ruined her marriage. She said basically that she and her husband couldn’t sleep in the same bed anymore “because of what I did”. And the only other time she spoke to me was to yell at me for not saying good morning to her (even though, when I did, she wouldn’t even say anything back).
There’s another post about what happened when she tried to give me the silent treatment a second time, but unfortunately, it was nothing like that post. I was distraught. I wanted her to love me again. I tried to give her what she wanted. I tried to act happy, told her good morning, good night, and I love you. I know I was only a teenager but I still get irritated with younger me around this time like c’mon. Did you really need her love THAT much? :/
Regardless, this only went on until my grandparents came for a visit for winter break, then the bitch had the audacity to go on like she didn’t treat me like shit because I literally was planning to end myself.
The memory that sticks with me along with others during this time was after school. I had no clubs, and I was just waiting on a bench near the door of my middle school. The entrance was full because it was chilly even though the sun was out. People left. I waited an hour. I had adults come up to me and ask if my parents were coming to get me. I said yes. Because I genuinely thought there was no way she’d just abandon me. I honestly thought the whole reason, at the time, that she was angry at me for running away was because she was worried for my safety. I mean, the world isn’t safe for a lonely black girl, right?
So I kept waiting. The adults were getting worried. I waited for two hours. I wanted to text or call her, but I was terrified. Scared that I’d finally get my answer that she didn’t care about me, or scared that I’d get in trouble for bothering her. But, looking back, I think my waiting was an answer enough. Her angry and need for control was more important than her love for me and my own safety. Like I knew she hated me, she literally told that to me to my face when I was 9 but damn, it still hurt. So, after two hours, I just called my birth father. His shock only adding more hurt, because I think it just confirmed it. There was no way I’d be left there without it being deliberate. She was watching tv on the couch when I came home. My brother was already home too. That was actually the only time I was left at school. Because even when she was busy with work, she’d ask the school to allow me on the school bus or one of her friends to pick me up.
To this day, I don’t know how this wasn’t a wake up call. I get angry thinking about myself clinging onto her, begging her to understand and love the real me when I didn’t need it at all. But, hind site is 20/20, and some people don’t realize it until way later in life. This shit stuck with me too. My birth mother was once an hour late picking me up as a freshman during highschool and I nearly had a panic attack. I had to be comforted by my alters by them saying “well you didn’t do anything wrong this time” and it fucking sucks when your safety is dependent on how they feel about you.
Even though I’ve been having this flashback all day, I think the only break I got from it was with my current mom. I got done cooking with her earlier this evening. It was nice. Have you ever had a parental figure that you could tell anything to and not have it used against you? Have you ever had a parental figure worry about you not just physically, but mentally? With my mom, I can just talk about anything. Plans for body modifications, plans for the future, just anything and she’d always be so supportive.
When I fall off of diets, she tells me there’s always next time. When I want to try new foods, she says it doesn’t hurt to try. When I want to cut myself, I can tell her and she’d offer to spend time with me while walking outside or playing video games. If I ever have a problem with her, I tell her. And she’d always take my concerns into consideration. When I talk about me being worried about the golden child amongst my siblings because of my mental health, she’s never called me ungrateful. She always been patient with me, reminding me multiple times about appointment or small things to do when I forget due to my mental illnesses even when it’s exhausting. She doesn’t baby me, but she doesn’t just leave me alone. She gives my siblings and I the same amount of love and attention even though she’s a single mom of three. And she never once compared us to each other. She said she’ll never marry because her last girlfriend emotionally abused us so my mom gave her a black eye and a broken arm.
She always says I’m a handful, but she says she’ll never stop being my mom. She always says she’s in it for the long hall. And, honestly, when grow up with a birth mother whose love is dependent on how good you’re doing in school, if you have a mental illness, if you’re queer, etc. you start appreciating the mom that not only accepts and loves you, but sees you. Like I have someone doesn’t see me as a “smart black female future engineer” when I get an A or a “selfish, prideful, dramatic, attention seeking princess” when I self harm or get a C in class, I have someone that ALWAYS just sees me, whether it’s good or bad.
Anyway, sorry for rambling and getting all mushy near the end. It just feels nice and I just feel like I don’t appreciate my mom enough. And I know it probably looks like the bar is literally on the floor, but I also want to be grateful for what I have and not always focus on what I don’t have. So, thank you so much for reading and good night.
I never really talk about my bio father, but…he was a confusing man to say the least🤦🏾. Like idk, wouldn’t you be fucking unhappy to be threatened to get the shit kicked out of them?
If you think about it, parents talking about how they gave you food, shelter and clothes and they should be thanked for it is like asking to be thanked for not jaywalking or murdering someone throughout your entire life cuz isn’t it against the law to like withhold that from your child?💀
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