Tag Archives: abuse

Moving In, Moving On

Well hello there, people! I’m back! I’ve done another of my disappearing acts, and its again due to a lot of stuff that’s been going on. I’m trying to consider whether I should end this blog, continue, or start a new one, where I won’t be anonymous, and the focus might have changed.

Not that it won’t be full of Catholic ranting. Of course, that remains a constant.

So, what’s with the long absence? Well, I’ve quit my job at the call center. It was either that, or I’d get fired for being nothing more than a temp worker. Plus, I had no ambition to become a permanent member of a business devoted to scamming the ignorant out of money, while claiming to help them.

Anyway, bitterness about that stupid low¬† paying job aside, other things have been going on. The wedding is no longer going to be held in Mexico. It was excruciatingly difficult to hear the lawyer let us know our options and to realize that going to Mexico would be a bad idea. Yeah, my fiance is illegal. Go bitch about it on YouTube or something because I don’t freaking care.

Because of that we’ve had to re-plan the entire wedding, and our budget, and everything. On the one hand, its great, because a certain maid of awesomeness won’t have to blow her money on a trip to Mexico, and I get some more control over decorations. On the other hand, its heart breaking. Mr. Serrano misses his mother, grandfather, and siblings so much, and he’s losing hope that he’ll ever see them again. I cried for days, feeling guilty that in an indirect manner, it is my fault he’s not with them now. He doesn’t blame me, and I don’t blame myself anymore, but its not fair that his mother can’t see her oldest son married. I’ll find a way to make it up to her- she seems to be an awesome woman from what I can see in the photographs.

However, the wedding is now bumped up to September, which has me excited!!!! In an unprecedented show of generosity my parents are allowing the party to take place on the farm, so I’m going to have a wedding that looks like it came out of Real Simple. We had had to break the news to them about Mr. Serrano’s status, and they took it well. In fact, they had assumed he was illegal anyways.

Thanks, Mom. Glad to know you really did mean all your racist comments in the past months before we said anything.

But, count your blessings, right?

For a while, it actually seemed like my family was going to act like a family. I was cautiously surprised and happy, but I’m always cautious when it comes to them. Just like I feared, the initial glow wore off, and life went back to “normal”. Then, Mr. Serrano finally got his own apartment!

The previous tenants were something else. Let’s just say I can’t stand white trash, especially anyone who buys enough cigs and booze to keep them stocked forever, but can’t be bothered to clothe, feed, and love their kids. My family has screwed up royally, but at least they weren’t alcoholics. Thank God. The trash people finally moved out, after dragging their heels for months, making excuses, and finally actually trying to squat in the apartment. They DID have another place they could stay- this one was just “better”.

We were insanely happy to get that apartment. Mr. Serrano’s stepmother is pretty much straight out of Hansel and Gretel, and probably invented frenemies. I savored the look on her face when she saw me cleaning in the kitchen window (they’re our next door neighbors…so charming). I was especially happy in a triumphant way (probably not the best moral way either) because the charming old hag had tried to pawn the apartment off onto someone else, just to make sure she could keep her stepson paying her bills and on her couch, rather than a real bed.

This was right around the time we went to visit the lawyer, and since I got us so lost down in Chicago area that he had to pay 30.00 in toll fees (not kidding) I figured I’d stay the week over at his house and clean it up while he went to work. I needed a project to keep my mind off the stress, and re-doing a house sounded like fun.

That is where the trouble started. It didn’t matter how much I told my parents I was waiting till marriage to move in with him, and it didn’t matter that the stuff I had in my room I had saved for him, which is why it was being moved out. Every day that I came home, I was asked when I was moving out. The verbal abuse got worse, and my ever-charming ever-honest brother fell back into his habit of calling me a bitch. Mom literally ignored my existance, which I guess is better than her usual screaming (although screaming did occasionally happen).

Without even intending to, without wanting to, I ended up living in Mr. Serrano’s apartment. The first few weeks I was amazed. I woke up, and no one was going to scream at me. Nobody was yelling at me, glaring at me, or calling me names. In fact, I got a peck on the cheek and a “good morning, I love you”. Its taking a while to get rid of some of my bad habits- like skipping breakfast. I can’t eat at home. If I eat at home, I’m “stealing” from whoever Mom is favoring at the moment, which means I eat out or not at all. It took me a few days to leave my bedroom with confidence- inside I still expected to be criticized for something.

I started to feel something I haven’t felt in a long time- freedom and happiness.

I can listen to Catholic Radio, pray, listen to music, cook, go take a walk, eat, drink, be happy!!

But… at the back of my mind I kept getting nudged. This was beautiful, and wonderful…but I had said nothing to my priest. In fact, I avoided the subject entirely. I didn’t want to lie. I didn’t want to tell the truth. Then my friends started nudging me. The universe was nudging me.

In short, God was like “okay, you’ve had your fun. Now trust me and go talk to my priest!!!”

So I did, even though its instinct now for me to not trust authority (lol, and I end up Catholic. wtf) I went and talked with him. I had this whole prepared speech in my head which of course fell apart as soon as I tried to speak (complete with crying, which I hate doing in front of men. They are wayyyyy too vulnerable to it). He thought at first it was financial.

HA! Nope, actually the money saved is a bit less, since starting an apartment is expensive.

Its humiliating. Its absolutely embarrassing to explain to someone that your mother is abusive, your father doesn’t really care, and that your brother has been trained to join in. Its worse when you have to do it to someone you consider an authority, because you’ve been trained your entire life to believe that no one in authority thinks you are worth anything, and everyone believes you’re a liar. The irony is that you believe that if anyone does believe you, they’ll think that you’re less of a person for what you lived through- that you’ll be just like the people who raised you.

I didn’t even have to explain everything like I had thought I would have to. Father did ask about my dad, and his role, and whether my dad is abused himself. (I guess, in a way, he is. Mom *does* bully him a lot.) In all honesty, the actual talk was very short, and I didn’t have to come up with a litany to explain what goes on in my house. I think, perhaps, Father knew, at least a little bit. It makes me wonder how many people have known that I’ve never told. It did “help” that I’d already moved out, but I was prepared to move back in again with my “family” if the priest said otherwise.

I can’t believe it. God must have been behind this, because when I finally could move out, I tried not to. I wanted to do what He wanted me to do, or what I thought He wanted me to do…and I still ended up moved out.

Thank God. I’m never coming back. I’m free.

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“Sex Workers” vs “Sex Slaves”

I am having some issues trying to upload my photos, so I promise this post will be short, and still visual.

First, a short comment. I am a student of language. I love language and all of its little rules. I have also been very cognizant of certain changes that tend to creep into language- changes that can be very good or very bad. For example, the move to characterize prostitutes as “sex slaves” rather than just plain prostitutes.

Why would that change be good? It shows that people are (or were) starting to understand that prostitution is rarely something a woman (or man) goes into by choice. It is often the result of kidnapping, coercion, violence, and horribly greedy people providing a “service” to people who are morally sick and confused.

Mr. Serrano has told me how that when he was younger, he was tempted to go to a brothel. There are tons of brothels in Mexico, and just like in many areas of the world, including the US, its often considered “normal” to go to a titty bar or brothel. There’s really not a ton of difference between the two, depending upon the laws of the country, and if those laws are even enforced. As he was on the same street of the brothel, he decided not to go. Why? He woke up when he saw 2 young children, barely 10 years old, a sister and brother- peddling their bodies. “They even seemed to like what they were doing- they were smiling…” The incidence unnerved him so much that thankfully he never sought out that sick “entertainment” again. All he could think of were his own siblings, safe at home and happily innocent of the darkness only a few miles away.

No one ever discusses how those prostitutes you see might have been forced into it when they were just little kids. So much for the talk show hosts and their “normal, happy, healthy” prostitutes. What, healthy in that they haven’t contracted AIDS or Syphillis- yet?

A rather disturbing trend I’ve seen, however, is that just as people were starting to use the more graphic, realistic, truthful term “sex slaves” rather than the term “prostitute”, those of the progressive/liberal end of the political spectrum started to use “sex workers”.

I noticed it on NPR, on many blogs, and recently into more mainstream sources of news. Suddenly it seems its not politically correct to say “sex slaves”.

I would agree its not completely correct to say prostitute. The definition of prostitute- one who has sex for money- is correct, however, it can be misleading. The conventional depiction of prostitutes is women, not girls, boys, or men, who use their sex to solicit money from men. They may or may not have a “pimp”, but a lot of them do have a “madam” and the stereotype is that they end up liking or at least tolerating their “job”. There’s little mention in popular culture how that prostitute started out, perhaps because its much easier to blame someone who in reality is a victim than to condemn the men who somehow just can’t control themselves.

It also does a great job of avoiding the fact that men are also prostitutes, and does an even better job at avoiding the whole “I’m only 11 and my mother is forcing me to have sex for money” bit.

No, much easier to believe that 18 year old is just a little small and skinny for her age, and she’s just trying to make some extra cash. Much easier to believe that they’re all just a bunch of home-wreckers, thereby taking the load of shame off of that wayward husband.

And so it goes with the term “sex worker” only now, because we are all so much more politically correct and enlightened, we’ve made sure that its gender neutral!

But…wait…worker? Isn’t work something you’re supposed to do voluntarily? You know, not slave work? You know, not trying to escape your country only to be sold to God knows where?

I wonder what all those guys and gals in Tokyo from the former Soviet Bloc think about their “work” and the homes they will never see again?

What does it matter, if they’re all just a bunch of “sex workers”. Maybe we should just organize so that they can receive better STD testing, better wages and working conditions? I guess that would be better than working towards eliminating an industry and a mindset that treats the human body as a commodity- with absolutely no regard for the psychological, soulful, person behind the vagina or butt or mouth or all of the above that is currently being used.

Nah, instead of calling it what it is, lets call it the gender inclusive sex worker. So much more sanitary than a slave….

This video is disgusting, but note the language and attitude. Also, its been noted that Planned Parenthood denounced this all as some convoluted attack on them…only to have to admit that they and their associates were in serious trouble with the law.

Stop pornography.

Stop contraception.

Stop abortion.

Stop prostitution of any kind.

Save the world from itself.

Our Lady of Guadeloupe, pray for us.

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