My Morning

So last night the cockroach from hell crawled up through the rotting baseboards in the kitchen. Crazy, I know. It took me 5 smacks to finally kill the thing and it was still moving when I threw it out. This cockroach MUST have crawled up from hell because I for one, know that cockroaches that size are the harbingers of the plague and destruction. I messed up the time that I take my meds and therefore I was up late feeling really weird. I’ve been feeling weird on this dosage for a few days now and it’s not getting better but I’m between psychiatrists at the moment.

Also last night a roommate came and asked me how to use a pesticide. I nearly cried I was so proud of her. Nah we found a centipede and those suckers are nasty. And then we looked under a bed and found the floorboards rotting and water pooled everywhere. Gee… I wonder how the centipede got in. So then we had to spray the room and move them out and this was all at midnight when I was taking out trash, doing dishes (not my own), and killing roaches.

I can almost hear the vermin morse code going off. They call my moving in day the start of the Reign of Terror. Yep we be all up French Revolution over here when I’m in the house.

So I’m up until 1:00 am because rather than feel depressed and cry, which is what I wanted to do but it was like there was this fuzzy wall between me and the emotion like I couldn’t break through and feel anything or cry. And I did because my guyfriends still not up and the medical bills and job stress is really getting to me. I put on this smile and walk around like I’m on vacation but what most people don’t understand is that this girl works damn hard just to survive. Any more work than what I already do and my anorexia gonna reach up and knife me in the dark.

And my roommate has her boyfriend. So here’s the thing. She doesn’t attend my college but we have the same contract to not have men sleep over at the house. So this morning he is here again. So I call security.

I’m going to have you keep a few things in mind on my side. 1) I just moved into a house with 9 white girls who range from 19-21. 2) These girls are immature. Beyond immature. 3) These girls are in housing that goes by LDS rules so they are to obey however they don’t 4) I don’t know this girl. I don’t even remember her name. Kinda awkward to have a runin with a girl in the “in” crowd of a house like this when you’re the new girl and you don’t want trouble. I have enough of my own stuff without her and her man issues kk, she not my baby, she not my problem. 5) Women have their own set of rules. Even if a woman comes directly to you and asserts her feelings you can BET she be running off to tell her homie OMG guess what SHE did. And in this context she is in the “in” crowd. Here we go with the passive aggressive tactics like gossip behind my back, subvert side comments, and leaving me out of stuff.

Now more about me 1) I never do anything out of malice. Well except when I hit that one gu with a door but he’d been bullying me for a year and a half and he was holding it shut at the time teasing me and… It’s called a line. Don’t cross it. 2) It takes a long time for me to get upset enough about something to call “the authorities”. I hate to report to school security or the police I hate all of that. There’s hella paperwork and I’m a Queen I don’t got time to come after you ho-hos HOWEVER 3) I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. My roommates are on a don’t need to know basis because I don’t trust their mouths. If you heard them talk on a day-to-day basis you’d know their heads are basically flowerpots kk. I totally have compassion for this girl despite what happened. I wake up at night crying because I’m so lonely and I miss my guyfriend and a boyfriend might be SUPER helpful for my touch deprivation that literally wakes me from sleep and tortures me daily. But despite all that I still don’t break my personal standards of no sex before marriage and not making out or sleeping together either. If I can do that, and I can hardly do anything I am so ill, then she can too. And she signed the same contract I did. If I don’t bring men over to the house neither should anyone else. We need to play by the same rules at least when it comes to safety and vermin.

I don’t know these men. I’m uncomfortable with them sleeping in the house. My bedroom door lock is broken. It is okay for me to call it in.

So how it went down. He was sleeping over here again so I just called security. This man doesn’t pay rent or help with chores so why on earth should he be allowed to just sleep here?! No. Not okay. Not okay at all. If he was paying and a tenant it would be different. However this campout in a house full of young women excuse me, pedophile, not happening on my watch.

I find him on the couch again for the 6th time in a row without his girlfriend and I’m like OK fine. I didn’t want to get involved further so I just snapped a picture of his face because security has to go on evidence. Trust me I know the police. They got a system. And if I want them to get involved I got to have pictures. I don’t like it anymore than anyone else but my justification is 1) I need evidence 2) The girl is gonna lie 3) None of my other roommates are going to say anything this is just me sticking up to get cut down. As usual it’s a Wonderwoman standoff everything else burned down everyone else runs and she lifts her sword and prepares to kick ass. 4) I am so uncomfortable with moving into this new house and the balance off power as yet is untested so in order to not get caught up in the drama I wanted it to be confidential. Pics are the easiest way to do that.

Here is how it went down. She wasn’t sleeping on top of him and I was like OK yo I am way uncomfortable with this but I don’t want to wake up a strange man because I have no idea what he’ll do but if he knows this is unacceptable he is going to be super defensive. In my ‘sperience when you get a man defensive it’s not good. If he’s aggressive and will hit a woman that is how you know because you cross that line, make him uncomfortable, and he’ll default to his behavior. Don’t ask me how I know that okay. I basically live with men except I sleep alone, I run with the pack. I am fluent in Bro code.

I call security and they dispatch officers to my house. I go into my room and pack up my mat that I sleep on precisely because I hate to see this go down. I didn’t want to do this. I don’t want any trouble. so then maybe 20 minutes later this girl comes marching into my room “Did you call security?” Because duh I have PTSD and there’s a man in the house OF COURSE I’m up the earliest. So then I’m like “Huh?” Because this girl is not supposed to know it was me and I’m supposed to pretend otherwise. However she nails me anyways. “Look if you have a problem with me you come straight to me first, don’t just call security.”

And I said “The problem is not with you. The problem is that there is a man sleeping in the house and that goes against contract.”

“I don’t even go here! And I’m leaving anyways.”

“Regardless this is BYUH housing and you signed the contract and men are not to sleep over in this house.”

“I don’t go here! Why did you report it?”

“Because I had to do the right thing.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is. Look I just go cuddle with him in the morning he doesn’t stay over.”

“Funny how I have pictures of him staying over then.”

“You know what I am going to walk out of this conversation because you’re so immature I won’t get anywhere with you.”

“I actually think I was very mature about this.”

“At least I don’t take pictures of people while they’re sleeping!”


You may now applaud.

Her Royal Majesty has made a decree, and kicked ass. All in under an hour.

I should be paid just to live, I make this world amazing.

My hands were shaking so hard after this conversation. I HATE fighting with people. I get soo upset that my hands shake and my voice gets higher and louder and fighting is not something I do unless I have to and again I never do it unless I felt it was necessary and usually it’s not even about the other person. It’s about what I feel about something they are doing or saying, it’s about me just saying okay well I feel this and I’ll let you know how I feel and then no matter what happens I can walk away knowing I stood up for myself.

So here’s what you’ll notice. You’ll notice that she now has ammunition against me to hiss behind her hands to the other women in the house about how creepy I am taking pictures of them when they were asleep (conveniently forgetting that security says pics or it didn’t happen). She also has a victim badge to flash saying that “oh, if she had ONLY come to me first I wouldn’t have been through this humiliation of my darling man being seized by armed forces at six in the morning!” (conveniently enough she doesn’t realize that I don’t even remember her name. She’s nowhere NEAR the “hey girl so I noticed this will you respect my delicate feelings and move the man out” There is literally not a reason for her NOT to be defensive). So she has a victim card, an “evidence” card, and a character card. Working to her advantage is that the other girls don’t know me that well so she can say things about me. Character card now in play.

When I was sexually assaulted and rumors were flying everywhere about me being the slut my Hawaiian grandpa told me something (I have  a Samoan father, a Hawaiian grandfathere, several sets of white grandparents, and Samoan and Tongan brothers and a Japanese sister. Get over it.) He said “The truth will always be the truth. You know what happened and God knows what happened. Nothing anyone else says will ever change what happened.”

My kickass life coach from Chicago west side- black, single mom, powerhouse, ex-military says “Be true to your story”. She sent me a cuff that had “Quit Lyin'” branded into it to remind me of exactly that.


In this case no matter how she plays it I know why I did what I did and I have compassion for why she’s acting this way. I have compassion that she felt attacked and like I went behind her back and was super ninja about it and that is an extremely violating feeling and I validate that too. But I also understand that as much as I don’t know about this girl I also know she doesn’t know even 1/16th of my stuff and she can’t make character judgments based on that.

Also who said ninjas were bad? We get stuff DONE.

Would I change anything? Well maybe. I didn’t want to be involved in her business. I should have kicked her bf out on day one. But I had reasons for not doing either of those things and I have compassion for myself that I have a lot going on and a lot of reasons for reacting the way I did and this is now my starting point.

I did not know security was going to come find her in her bedroom at 6am and interrogate her. That wasn’t a very delicate way of handling it.

Now I get to live with a bomb.

There is warfare on the battlefield but let me tell you, in a girl’s world, there is no safe zone from the battlefield. We are vicious. Men have no idea our potential to cause pain. We are so calculating and passive-aggressive. There’s hardly any evidence because we leave most of our clawmarks on the heart. It’s a crime with only tears for evidence.

I have dealt with difficult women my entire life. I have never before known why it had to be that way that so many women get all up in my business and decide to hate me who I don’t even know. I think it’s part of being royalty. Just by breathing, I command the attention of the entire kingdom, particularly the peasants. And they will always, always, have a reason to hate me if they go looking for one.

I think the other thing is that I’m not a weak woman. I’m independent. I play by my own rules.

They really hate that about me. See when everyone is insecure and trying to control everyone of course they’re going to hate someone who won’t be controlled. What other reaction is there to that? You can’t handle your own self OF COURSE you can’t be compassionate to someone else for your same flaw. I’m guilty too. This is totally me. But I will say that I hate the game even though I get caught up in it too. I didn’t want to start my morning skipping breakfast, calling security, and having a fight with a roommate. I wanted to wake up to a manfree house, sweep the floors, eat my breakfast, take my meds, and then go to the beach and bodyboard to help my leg recover. Maybe draw or read today. I didn’t want drama in my morning.

My life man. I just attract drama. People say that I like it and I’m like well despite the fact that I enjoy a good telenovela moment every once in a while this everyday neverending marathon wears me out. I rarely have a day without something crazy going down.

Seriously what does it feel like to wake up in the morning, eat honey nut cheerios with some milk, look outside and think “Gee what a beautiful day” And then just stay inside and read. Maybe take a nap. Not be worried about calories or mental illness or difficult people or medical bills or rumors or gossip-whores… And just relax. All day. Not worrying. Not stressed. Not having someone die or someone come after you and bully you on top of already being very emotionally ill. Or have people come after you fresh after a flashback and an awful night of nightmares and say “You know, dear, you should just get married to the right man. It’ll make you happy.”

Why should I tell her I have PTSD from rape? Especially now that I know how she handles things.

Also I want to observe that the person who uses the word immature in the conversation is usually the one who can’t have an adult conversation. “She’s touching me!” “No she’s touching me!” Gosh I felt like I was talking to a twelve year old playing house. I hate conversations like that. I have much bigger problems to work with besides a 19 year old’s damaged ego and petty catfighting.

Yep rule of thumb. If you have to call the other person immature to get your point across the truth is that you’re the immature one.

A mature person does not need to assert that they are “more” mature in a fight like this. They are and they simply know they are.

There is no need to contend over it if your inner self already knows.

I do reverse psychology on myself. I know I’m not mature and that I’m naïve about many, many things, and I accept that. That’s part of learning. And I continue to seek out experiences of life. I don’t think I’ll ever truly be mature because it seems like maturation means a stopping of growth but every day of my life I change. I become renewed. My eyes see differently day to day the same things they saw yesterday.

I am totally okay with being a child from time to time. People who lose the wonder of childhood experience a true loss of self.

Many times people remark to me that I have this light, this sense of wonder about the world, and hearing about my past they are amazed that I still have a sense of wonder about the world at all. Many who might have gone through my life would be wonderless. But despite everything there is a small, fragile, but very strong part of my core who cherishes life as a child does. Who is excited about the smallest joys and delights in discovery.

I may have lost a great many things but at least I still have her. How else could I live unless I saw the world as a child with wonder in my eyes for the lights at Christmas, the new flower, the fuzzy squirrel, the squelching snail, enjoying so much of the small things other eyes miss because humanity looks so hard at the mark that we miss the point. The point of living. Everyone is born but few people truly live.

I love to go outside and just look out at the horizon or the sea or disappear into the woods and imagine I am an elf or a nymph of the wood or a Native American scout. I still play. I still cuddle my stuffed animals. I still lose all sense of dignity when confronted with a cute object such as a puppy. (I LOVE PUPPIES OMG). I still read children’s books to get a sense of that wonderment about the world.

Many adult books focus on sex and work and those parts of life. Children imagine the world as it could be without those things, they create fantastical worlds beyond the boundaries of the “adult” world. In a child’s world faeries and unicorns can be in the closet or within the flower petal or a mermaid in the stream. Fantasy can come to life in their eyes.

If I didn’t have that I don’t think I’d be half so kind or compassionate as I am. Or have made it this far through my depression. Because when I can’t sleep, I story tell. I live and breathe a mix of reality and fantasy. I dance through the pages in my mind and tell my life’s story through the music of my words and movements.

I imagine crazy, silly things to lift my heart on a bad day. I take comfort in the fantasy of night when I can create images and great stories of courageous women to burn like fire against the black sky. I take comfort in nature where it is easy to imagine the faery, the dwarves, talking animals, animal guides. Where the music is of the mind and spirit and free of unclean air and noises that are not akin to the fantasy.

A creative mind is a great blessing to have especially with my struggles. Because at that stage where most people would say this will never work I can’t do anything or even I shouldn’t do anything I will ask the question why not. Why can’t unicorns be real? Maybe they are just so magical we can’t see them. Maybe there are spirits. Will-o-the-wisps. But most importantly even if you can’t prove their existence in hard evidence, their existence breathes through the mind. Without the realm of fantasy we are animals. And despite our gifts to imagine a better world, we commit horrific acts in the name of this same power that can do so much good.

If a little girl wants to believe she is a princess, who the fuck are you to tell her different? Let her have her dreams because life will hit her with blow after blow, break her inside, and she’ll forget what it felt like to have those dreams. Life is too short as it is and shorter without wonder Taking that from someone is like breaking them inside. You broke something so precious and what if she never gets it back? What if she lives the rest of her life believing she can never be the princess? That she is not worthy of the crown and instead must live out her days as the goose girl or the cinder tender.

That’s another reason I face so many adversaries. I believe I can still be the princess. I believe I can be the Queen. I believe I can kick butt when I have to. I believe that when I make mistakes I can learn. I believe in talking animals and spirit guides. I believe true strength and courage is found within. I believe that without fear there is no courage. I believe in kindness. I believe in the power of dreams. I believe in true love.

There has never been a time in the history of mankind that those beliefs have not faced opposition.

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