Therapy was so goooooood today

The first thing I told my absolutely beautiful therapist was that I got drunk on one and a half litres of wine on Saturday, and I picked up my phone and called my dad. I couldn’t wait to tell her I’d forgotten to say hi, and she had to remind me to sit down. I have been no contact with my dad for so long, along with the rest of my family, both nuclear and extended. He was so happy to hear from me and was excited that his daughter was doing well. I also asked him not to tell my mum that I was talking to him again. If anything good came out of the text my “best friend” sent to her boyfriend, it is the fact that I got drunk and wanted to talk to family, and my dad was the first person to come to mind, and the interaction ended up healing me in some way.

I actually love that man (my dad, I mean). I spent so much of my life hating him because of what my mother told me about him. All the evidence I had about the badness of my dad was my mum’s stories. Fuck my mum! She made me think my dad practised witchcraft and was responsible for any misfortune that befell our lovely family. I hope she is doing well; however, she can thrive and do well far, far away from me. The thought of her being part of my life makes my skin crawl.

My sister likely thinks I am suffering and broke, and this kind of makes me want to laugh. Why did she send my friend a message asking whether I can pay my rent, and also asking for a picture of me? Lol! I sent her an email asking her to stop texting my friends and to leave me alone until I am ready to talk to her. This was my message:

I just want to be left alone. So, maybe respect that boundary until I am ready to speak to you and stop bothering my friends.

This was her response:

Ok. If you get stuck, call on the name of Jesus. I will respect your boundary and leave you in the hands of Jesus.

I cackled because all I could think of was me getting into trouble and shouting “JESUS”. As if something will happen after I do that. Perhaps, a human named Jesus might show up, but I doubt he will be the son of god that was crucified at Golgotha and resurrected after three days just for him to go back to heaven and leave the same shitty world behind. Fuck him! Imagine if I shouted “JESUS” and then some random dude named “JESUS” showed up in my living room and asked me “What is it you need my darling?” I answer, “I would like to exist in a non-corporeal and invisible state.” He then gives me the power and I live happily ever after being a menace to society.

Aaaah! I was actually supposed to be talking about therapy. I did a test for ADHD. I hope I will pass. I am also learning about boundaries, and my therapist suggested that I should stop smiling while setting boundaries because that is probably why people are not taking them seriously.

Anyway, I hope you all are having a week as lovely as mine.

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Question: Who hurt me??  Answer: Her name is mother. 

Where to start with this one? I’m going to spill everything that is in my head. I’ve often been with my peers, discussing what they learned from their parents. I realize I have nothing to contribute. I know what I taught myself, and what I learned from friends, teachers, and others. But not my mom. From my mother, I learned what not to be. I learned that I could use religion to avoid accountability. I learned that having children would make me miserable. I would have to sacrifice my life for them, and I do not want that. I learned that I should never speak around people who have more money than I do. I learned to sacrifice myself for others’ happiness. Then I complained when they did not do the same for me. I felt good about being a martyr. I learned that my need would be met only if the person meant to fulfil it found my request acceptable. Since my needs were never palatable, I always lied to get them met. I learned to hate my father based on what she told me. Then I grew up and realized my dad likely suffered because of her. He didn’t know how to express it. 

This woman asked me to get off my depression medication and pray the depression away. 

Once, when I was 11, she came home from work. She found me cleaning the house. Then she said, “There’s no point in hiring house help. You’re my new house help.”

This woman always agreed to host some of our relatives. Then she complained and talked shit about them all the time. 

This woman had a favourite child but would insist that she loved us equally. One time, she was complaining to me about her favourite child wasting money. I told her to stop giving the favourite child money. She agreed with me. The next day, I saw her giving money to her favourite child in secret so I didn’t see her doing it. 

This woman asked me to continue staying in a home where my cousin had shown up drunk and asked me to have sex with him in his marital bed. 

This woman never stopped infantilizing me until the day that I went no contact. 

A few months before I went no contact, she kept saying that she wanted to visit me. Thinking about her being in my house gave me so much anxiety. I told her that I was not ready to have her as a guest. A few days later, she called and said, “Tell me where you live. I am coming to spend the night at your house.” I either blocked her or turned off my phone for days. She left the city. Only after she was gone did I felt safe. 

Here are some winners from my experiences with my mum:

One time, she asked me for my results. I was in my second semester on campus. Out of 7 units, I had six As and one D. I was very proud of my As, and I felt like I was getting my shit together. She said to me, “I see you have started getting Ds again.”

After I finished my coursework and got a prestigious internship, I was a little scared to tell her. I was right to be. She sneered and asked if I would take the prestigious internship or the one she was planning to bribe her friend for. I was conflicted as I also hoped that she would be proud of me. 

Whenever we went shopping.

  • If I liked it and she did not like it, she would not buy it. If she bought it, she would pout about it and find a way to punish me later for making her buy me something that she did not like. This punishment would be in the form of passive-aggressive statements that attack me as a person. 
  • If she liked it and I liked it, she would look at me skeptically, wondering if I was lying about liking it and if I would wear it at all. 
  • If I hated it and she liked/loved it, she would buy it and force me to wear it. 

One time when she had visitors, I cooked all the food because she had a broken leg, and all her guests were friends. While serving the food, she saw that the chicken stew did not have as much soup as she had expected. She saw a chance to embarrass me about my cooking. It would also distance her from anything to do with food prep. 

Whenever I introduced my friends to her, she was an angel. She would give them money. My friends would then call me a dick if I acted in any way that made them think I didn’t appreciate having a mother. 

What was with the crazy amount of phone calls? I would finally call back. She only wanted to say hi and interrogate me about where I was and what I was doing that had me too busy to pick up her calls as if I was 2 years old. Looking back, this woman has never acknowledged that I grew up and I have a brain of my own. 

This woman would choose to travel to my high school visiting days on the same day. She would arrive late enough that I could not see her. I would cry the whole day as I waited for her, and even when I got permission to see her for about 5 minutes, I would be sobbing, and we would have no time to chat. 

She once gave me 100 dollars to buy a dress and shoes for a wedding (so that I do not embarrass her) while refusing to give my sister 10 dollars for medication. 

She would always blame witchcraft and the devil. This allows her to avoid accountability for her actions, intended or not.  

I once told her that I was taking a break from talking to her via phone calls. This was after I realized that all she wanted to do was complain but not fix the problem. She went straight to victim mode, asking me, “When have I ever offended you for you not to want to talk to me.” 

She often spoke about how she was a clean person and loved fine things, but then would poo and not flush the toilet. When I called her out on it, she would tell me to flush it for her and to stop making a big deal out of it. Ew.

She would come to me to talk shit about my sister and brother, and then go to my sister and brother to talk shit about me.

My entire life involved her minimizing my feelings, emotions, and accomplishments.

One time, she forced me to go to an event with her. I knew no one at this event. I ended up spending most of the time reading a book on my phone. When we got back home, she asked me about the event and why I was not talking to people. I told her that I had trouble socializing because I was an introvert. She then said that introverts don’t exist. She thinks I’m pretending to be one to avoid talking to people. My behaviour is embarrassing her.

She always got mad at me for locking my room when I went home during the pandemic. She wanted an open-door policy to my room. One time, she banged the door so hard that the lock broke. When she got in, she had a look on her face that said, “That is what you get for locking me out.” I felt unsafe. I felt helpless.

Her favourite line was, “I am too old to change. You have to love me as I am.” Expecting unconditional love while providing conditional love is insane.

It would be so weird whenever I was having a bad day because I was not allowed to show any negative emotions on my face. She would make me fix my face because my emotions were making her uncomfortable.

How can I forget the inferiority complex she had around people that were richer and smarter than her. She would also expect us to join her in the activities her inferiority complex induced. These included not breathing the same air as the rich and not sitting in the same room as them, as it would be disrespectful. She would later brag to those she deemed inferior. She was in the same room with superior people.

I think this should be obvious. But, I’ll add it here: She would be emotionally intelligent with other people’s children, but never with her own.

I don’t think this woman thought about what it means to be a parent and what kind of parent she wants to be. 

Have you ever met someone whose arousal peaks when her children are in danger? It becomes her moment to shine and save the day. Then, she holds her saviour status over you for life. Independent children are the biggest threat to my mother. She feeds on her children’s failures.

I am currently in no contact with her and her relatives. She could not believe I went no contact. She travelled to my city and asked our relatives to call and message me. One of the messages started with “What is this behaviour…..” I laugh about this now, but this experience gave me a heart attack. The same person who asked “What is this behaviour…” is the same uncle who was borrowing my mother’s money. My mother sent him the money, then told me, “I don’t have your school fees because I gave your uncle money.” 

Looking back, I have always wanted to go no contact with this woman since I was in high school. I wanted to pay her back for all she spent on me. Then, she would stop complaining about her sacrifices for me. Did she not know what parenthood entailed when she was getting babies???  

Because she failed in every other way as a parent, I saw her only as someone who gave me money.  

I have no good memories if this woman because even her good deeds came at the cost of my soul.

Superpowers/Bullshit man

Kyllan and I are in the lab, seated side by side, staring at the ceiling and remembering Michael. We declared him persona non grata with our world. Since I am off my medication that was meant to fix my neurochemicals, I am revisiting all the decisions I made when my neurochemicals were not working right. Kyllan suggests reinstating Michael’s status in the family hence the ceiling staring and the blasting of Two Steps from Hell’s Strength of a Thousand Men.

We get interrupted by a knock on the door. I check my security cameras. It is a delivery man. I send Kyllan to get the food that I had ordered. Kyllan passes Konan in the living room. She is bouncing her tit ass off the floor. He gets to the door, opens it, aggressively snatches the food from the poor delivery man and shuts the door.

He gets to the living room. Konan and I are playing. I am on the floor and Konan is now bouncing on me. She is such a squishy tit. We stop bouncing as soon as we see Kyllan is back. Konan, is rather famished from all the bouncing and decides to eat everything in one gulp.

Two weeks later

The world is in shambles. Nobody can lie. Marriages have been broken. All of social media has shut down. Governments are not quiet on everything unless it is the truth. There are no more advertisements on television. Politicians cannot campaign anymore. Parents can no longer lie about where children came from. Religious people are having the toughest time as they come to the realization that faith and truth are not synonymous.

This is all happening because Konan has become BULLSHIT MAN. Remember all the food she ate two weeks ago after spending all day bouncing? Yes, turns out there was something in the food that gave her powers to detect bullshit. So, every time a human on planet earth lies, Konan appears in front of them, shouts BULLSHIT! and then sticks one of her nipples into their mouths so they shut up.

I could use some answers…

Does the fact that I don’t want to remove my tattoos make me a bad daughter?

My mum insists I should make her happy by removing my tattoos. Should I be responsible for her happiness?

She says, “If you love me, you will remove those tattoos.” Why would she say this? I don’t understand. I love her. In fact, I would resent her if I removed my tattoos because of her.

As her daughter, should I care about her happiness more than mine?

P.S. My mum is very religious. I would categorise her with Bible thumping idiots.
She basically said that she owns me and has the right to decide what I do with my body. I feel infantilized.
My tattoos are all math related because I love mathematics, nothing sinister here.


Naming Tit / Officially part of the family

“If I knew we would fight about this I would never have participated. Pick a name already Kyllan. I don’t care which one, I just want to get back to my work.” I shout at Kyllan.

“Yes. Oh, my supreme leader. Thank you for this honour. I will not let you down Tit.” Kyllan mocks. When did he learn how to mock people? His learning rate has been increasing at an exponential rate. It’s very impressive and unexpected. I will have to check him out after this.

Kyllan looks at the paper with names printed out. He mentions a name on the list, then squeezes Tit’s telepathy nipple for approval. 20 names down the list, seems like Tit is not impressed. At some point, Tit must have been so angry at one of the names that she/he turned one of her/his telepathy nipples into a needle and poked Kyllan. The tit can solidify itself into a weapon. That’s a pretty handy feature to have. It is impressive, who knew the cute tit could turn itself into a weapon!!

In the end, they settled on Konan. I kinda like Konan too. It reminds me of the Akatsuki; my favourite villains. I would do anything to meet Hidan and Itachi. Tit choosing the name Konan is a little eerie for me. I could be harbouring a supervillain. Would be kinda funny if Earth was attacked by boobs because of me.

It’s official, we are now a family of Chebet, Kyllan and Konan. This great occasion demands the use of some illegal drugs. We should probably figure out Konan’s gender too.