i got arrested

⋆ ₘₐᵧ ₁₉ ₂₀₂₅

I’ve been keeping a secret from you. I’ve been in a pretty fucked up living situation since my grandmother passed. I’ve been living with my grandfather and his adult son. His son is severely mentally handicapped and has no impulse control. I immediately caught on to him being sexually attracted to me. It’s been escalating over time. It started with checking me out and then it became watching me change. He walked into the bathroom while I was in the shower to move my things. He would touch himself in the open. He’d listen into my room through the door. It was disturbing and anytime I’d voice a concern to my grandfather he wouldn’t do anything about it. “He’s a man, he’s going to feel those kind of desires” and “What am I suppose to do about it” where common replies if I got any at all. His son’s bedroom is in front of the bathroom, I haven’t had a comfortable shower in months.

On top of this, my grandfather refused to get a job. He’s never had a job that I can remember. Even when my grandmother was sick he never got a job, she was concerned about working until she died. Any money from this website got spent on being in survival mode with him and I couldn’t put any back into it to make more. I’ve been stuck in a really disgusting situation all around and have not wanted to talk about it as much as I wanted to get out of it. In a way, it pushed me into building a life in the outside world but the dread of having to return home was always there. Every night.

Recently, I watched both of them on their laptops eating their junk food and watching TV. It pissed me off. I’d become void of patience, though. I thought about how much life I could be living, and how my youth is being stolen by a pervert and a parasite. How I suffered through all of that with my grandmother just to be victimized by the same husband that stressed her out until the end. I snapped.

I smashed everything they own with a hammer.

My blood from the shards of glass splattered on the kitchen floor. I broke the claw of my hammer off. I went on an absolute rampage and it felt good. Nothing told me to do this. I just had this sudden realization that I didn’t have to be the one that’s afraid. As I felt my blood run from my finger I felt pure, and whole. In a way I haven’t in a long time. It was a visceral scene and I got a lot of pleasure from it. I felt every presence in my life stop in its tracks as my future had completely changed, and not with magic. In that moment I felt I was in a place higher than the above.

When they saw the damage they got scared. My grandfather called my mother of all people, who had lost custody of me as a child for good reason, to handle the situation. When she arrived she accused me of a psychotic episode and said I was lying about the entire situation. She told me I was going to psychiatric hospital either by being driven there or having the police escort me. Her suddenly having authority of the situation when she hasn’t lived with me for years and knows nothing about my mental health was strange, and it was all a poorly veiled attempt at gaslighting to me. My mother threatening the police was also shocking to me because I was always under the assumption since we were black we don’t call the police on each other. I guess that never counted for me. Unfortunately, because of the situation I got myself into I reluctantly got sent to psych.

I was there for three days. I was an odd case because I showed no signs of wanting to hurt others or myself, the staff seemed to understand this situation was more complicated than they are equipped to handle. My mother was telling them all kinds of things. She painted witchcraft as schizophrenia symptoms even though I’ve never had a conversation with her about what my spirituality means to me. She claimed that the mural I was doing on my walls was vandalism even though it’s my room. She took pictures of my room without my permission for “evidence” and sent them to distant family members I don’t even know. My mother was on facebook trying to “rally for support” by telling people I was having violent delusions. Meanwhile, I’m eating graham crackers watching Cartoon Network in the private room I politely asked for. The nurses even sat with me to talk and watch Looney Toons.

My mother and I have never gotten along but this is easily the most malicious experience I’ve ever had with her. She demanded I be institutionalized and was doing everything in her power to make sure I was in a long-term facility for possibly months or years. She’s even is trying to get involved in my local thelamite lodge to stir up drama there to. I just watched her go at this rampage at my life. I thought a lot about how people look when they’re in control of a futile situation. My mother was like a roach on it’s back. Frantically squirming, with only death on the mind. She’s always been like that, I just didn’t see it until now.

Sometimes I was stressed. Sometimes I wasn’t. I spent my whole teenage years in the psych system so I already knew how everything works. The most stressful part was that I was being kept there because they didn’t know where to send me home to. My home wasn’t safe and I have no one to go to and everyone was refusing to let me stay at a shelter. They tried pushing me to stay in in-patient so they could “come up with a plan”. Between that and my mother’s tall tales, horror stories of people getting lost in the psych system came to mind.

I ended up getting discharged. My mother’s abuse tactics backfired as my aunt and cousin came to visit. My aunt offered to let me stay at her place and my cousin expressed that she enjoyed my interest in the occult and wanted to talk to me more about it. They both left me with the impression that my mother was nothing to fear. There is the silent consensus that my mother’s temperament is complicated for lack of a better word. It was all interesting to watch unfold, because unlike everyone else I just went with the situation and it all came out in my favor.

I live in New Jersey now. I might have to for a few months before I can get back to NYC. It’s fine, it’s great actually. I find myself by the poolside wondering if self-destruction and self harm are the same thing. You could argue what I did was “wrong”, and I’m honestly not interested in that conversation. I got out. I literally destroyed my constraints with my two hands. It’s more than that too. It’s a formal banishment of those who victimized me. It didn’t feel like a trauma, it felt like art. There where so many things I realized about the abuse cycle I’m in, and how I’ve been raised to believe I’m crazy for so long. The over arching lesson with my relationship with her came to a conclusion, like a comet approaching earth. I learned I’m fully capable of surpassing love or hate, and can allow my abuser to live in apathy and neglect. After years I’m finally free for good. I never thought that would happen.

𓆩♡𓆪⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆⸸⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺𓆩♡𓆪

I woke up in the middle of the night to a particularly unruly patient being placed in the room next to mine. He was getting into fights with security. A familiar sadism was in his words “Oh, I’m sorry, did I cause any kind of dissatisfaction?” He claimed to work as an actor. When he wasn’t sedated he was whispering into the nurse’s station like a snake to your ear. He’d make quick glances into my room. It’s so fascinating to me that you hide in plain sight. You’re always putting on a show and I love that about you.