Kssn real name and number
Shoes? Shoes!!!
2008.06.09 18:46 Shoes? Shoes!!!
Shoes are so much more than a covering for a foot. Shoes are art and creativity. Shoes are distinction and class. Shoes can be an accessory or a lifestyle. Let's talk shoes!
2008.01.25 04:36 Podcasts - discover, discuss, review
podcasts: a subreddit to discover, discuss, and review podcasts with other podcast enthusiasts. As part of this mission, podcasts is curated to promote respectful and on-topic discussions. This is not a place to promote your podcast.
2008.10.21 22:07 She's actually the worst
Posting stories with call-outs towards specific people. Like how some people call out others on social media. NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, KAREN!
2024.05.14 03:57 ckosacranoid Harry as a shipgirl from Kantai Collection.
I have seen some crossovers with Harry and Kantai Collection, but none of them have made him into a ship girl. The biggest one was Harry and the Shipgirls where he gets to live with a Japanese Battleship and a Abbles Princess as his sister. The close is Harm becomes a shipgirl. Others have him as a leader of something at Most.
This idea is that Lily did something to protect Harry as a child...the thing she did was an old way to summon ship spirits. She summons a ship spirit that combines with him. Somehow she summons the USS Milwaukee, the lead ship of her class from the American civil war.
Tunny not wanting to deal with Harry when she finds him on the doorstep sends him to live with an old family member that was both a wizard and in the US Navy. The year Harry gets his letter to Hogwarts, something happens to cause him to change and become a shipgirl. He gets the letter and somehow the return does not state about his sex change or that he changed his name. Since his guardians know about magic they do not need the teacher to visit. So no visit from Hagrid.
Due to her changes, she is also a very armed warship that someone gets listed as part of the US Navy, though she is a very outdated ship. The magical side of the navy where she does have some use at some point later in her life. The downside is that she now looks about 8 years old since most ships look like they are the age of roughly their weight. Since she was a lightweight back then she did get some bump in age to not look like a 5-year-old.
So on the train, everyone is looking for Harry Potter who should be a boy with dark hair and a scar and glasses. She is not one of those, and her crew offered the Dark Price of Tommy's loaded soul a choice when the change happened. Become part of the crew or get torn up. Well, it decided to join the crew and no longer can take over or deal with the real Riddle.
As she is the last student standing there for the sorting and no one knows who she is she hands Mrs. G the updated paperwork with her new name and everything about her which causes all kinds of chaos that night. She is now a girl and is now named Milwaukee Potter. She is also an A person from the States which causes all kinds of shit later down the road.
It soon comes out that she is a magical creature you could say and her crew hating to Snape. At some point, she asks in his insults if he is asking for War with her crew. He makes an offhand comment about yes....the gloves come off after that as the crew come up with new and fun ways to make his life hell with jokes and actions. Nothing that hurt him, just poke fun at him to hell.
She really does love to cruise the lake over the next few years which leads her to know every inch of the lake though.
Tommy tries to kidnap her to get the stone and gets run through by her guns and crew. She does not care about the challenge of the third level since she has a bunch of crew that keep her from doing dumb things at times.
2nd year, do you want to call the very armed ship a dark lord at all? As for the chamber and fighting the very big snake? Can you say boom from 4 11-inch cannons?
3rd year...Do you think some idiot is going to hurt me? I mean I have very big guns damn it. Besides, Black do you surrender to the US Navy since you did the crimes of trying to harm the ship along with Peter? There is nothing that Fudge can do since he does give up to a different government and the crimes against them are not active.
4th year. So you want me a ship to be in your game as a person from a different country? Things get very nasty when the Navy and government get into the mix, so so gets to be the rep of the US Navy in this whole shit storm. The dragon...no one said how to deal with it.....
The head will look very nice on her wall at home later. The Lake Challenge, She moves on top of the water to the village very quick cine she knows the lake inside and out. She sends some chibi crew as divers to get the people back and all four of them without a fight within 10 minutes.
As for the maze and the graveyard. The death idiots no stand a chance for some extra firepower she can bring to bear with the crew also acting as fire support for snipers.
submitted by ckosacranoid to HPfanfiction [link] [comments]
This idea is that Lily did something to protect Harry as a child...the thing she did was an old way to summon ship spirits. She summons a ship spirit that combines with him. Somehow she summons the USS Milwaukee, the lead ship of her class from the American civil war.
Tunny not wanting to deal with Harry when she finds him on the doorstep sends him to live with an old family member that was both a wizard and in the US Navy. The year Harry gets his letter to Hogwarts, something happens to cause him to change and become a shipgirl. He gets the letter and somehow the return does not state about his sex change or that he changed his name. Since his guardians know about magic they do not need the teacher to visit. So no visit from Hagrid.
Due to her changes, she is also a very armed warship that someone gets listed as part of the US Navy, though she is a very outdated ship. The magical side of the navy where she does have some use at some point later in her life. The downside is that she now looks about 8 years old since most ships look like they are the age of roughly their weight. Since she was a lightweight back then she did get some bump in age to not look like a 5-year-old.
So on the train, everyone is looking for Harry Potter who should be a boy with dark hair and a scar and glasses. She is not one of those, and her crew offered the Dark Price of Tommy's loaded soul a choice when the change happened. Become part of the crew or get torn up. Well, it decided to join the crew and no longer can take over or deal with the real Riddle.
As she is the last student standing there for the sorting and no one knows who she is she hands Mrs. G the updated paperwork with her new name and everything about her which causes all kinds of chaos that night. She is now a girl and is now named Milwaukee Potter. She is also an A person from the States which causes all kinds of shit later down the road.
It soon comes out that she is a magical creature you could say and her crew hating to Snape. At some point, she asks in his insults if he is asking for War with her crew. He makes an offhand comment about yes....the gloves come off after that as the crew come up with new and fun ways to make his life hell with jokes and actions. Nothing that hurt him, just poke fun at him to hell.
She really does love to cruise the lake over the next few years which leads her to know every inch of the lake though.
Tommy tries to kidnap her to get the stone and gets run through by her guns and crew. She does not care about the challenge of the third level since she has a bunch of crew that keep her from doing dumb things at times.
2nd year, do you want to call the very armed ship a dark lord at all? As for the chamber and fighting the very big snake? Can you say boom from 4 11-inch cannons?
3rd year...Do you think some idiot is going to hurt me? I mean I have very big guns damn it. Besides, Black do you surrender to the US Navy since you did the crimes of trying to harm the ship along with Peter? There is nothing that Fudge can do since he does give up to a different government and the crimes against them are not active.
4th year. So you want me a ship to be in your game as a person from a different country? Things get very nasty when the Navy and government get into the mix, so so gets to be the rep of the US Navy in this whole shit storm. The dragon...no one said how to deal with it.....
The head will look very nice on her wall at home later. The Lake Challenge, She moves on top of the water to the village very quick cine she knows the lake inside and out. She sends some chibi crew as divers to get the people back and all four of them without a fight within 10 minutes.
As for the maze and the graveyard. The death idiots no stand a chance for some extra firepower she can bring to bear with the crew also acting as fire support for snipers.
2024.05.14 03:56 Burntsandwich12 Potential Phishing Scam
I clicked on what I think could be a phishing link for an application for a school job sent from a faculty member who I’m suspecting now had their email hacked and the information wanted in the google form (which didn’t seem to out of the norm for something through the school at the time) to apply was name, age, name of bank, if you have a bank account options were yes or no, gender, phone number, school email address (which isn’t connected to any important accounts like a bank account), age and address. I didn’t submit the google form as a response but did type it. What possibly can be accessed with this information and what should I do now to protect myself assuming a scammer got this info?
submitted by Burntsandwich12 to Scams [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 03:55 Heavy_Chest_8888 Sell Order Not Filled Outside of Trading Hours (IBKR)
Just a quick question, I put a limit sell order outside RTH for company A (not real name) listed on NYSE at ~9:00am Singapore time at a price of USD 39. The stock then fluctuates between USD 38 and USD 40++ for the next ~1 hour, yet my order is not filled. Anyone knows why? Thanks in advance.
submitted by Heavy_Chest_8888 to singaporefi [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 03:55 Ghost00074 [36m] What’s up? I am here looking for friends, also eventually my bestie!
Hey, my name is Ralph. I am 36, and I live in Florida. I travel for work though so I am all over the place and I travel full time. So that means I am not on any specific time zone, I sleep when I’m tired. As flight crew my work schedule can be 7 days a week, 365 days a year and holidays. I prefer it that way vs a traditional 9-5 Monday to Friday type job, no thanks. As flight crew I get to see the world and get paid for it. I truly love my job and what I do. I also get to live in Florida but still see all 4 seasons! I have been to 19 countries and growing!
I am a nerd. I love gaming. I have a PS5, gaming desktop, gaming laptop, switch OLED, etc. I am also an electronic music producer. I produce house, tech house, trance, techno, drum and bass, etc! It is just for fun!
I am looking for friends. I am VERY picky with who I respond to and make friends with. I am also looking for my best friend but that takes time and it just has to happen. I just need to click with someone. Someone who immediately gets my high level of sarcasm, etc.
I am looking for real life friends not just online! Message me! :)
submitted by Ghost00074 to MakeNewFriendsHere [link] [comments]
I am a nerd. I love gaming. I have a PS5, gaming desktop, gaming laptop, switch OLED, etc. I am also an electronic music producer. I produce house, tech house, trance, techno, drum and bass, etc! It is just for fun!
I am looking for friends. I am VERY picky with who I respond to and make friends with. I am also looking for my best friend but that takes time and it just has to happen. I just need to click with someone. Someone who immediately gets my high level of sarcasm, etc.
I am looking for real life friends not just online! Message me! :)
2024.05.14 03:55 Snoo61755 New Ship Perk Suggestions
Long ago, NMS only allowed players to own a single ship, making it a major decision on which ship type a traveler should go after. However, realizing this felt clunky, updates have been made over the years, ship slots increased, new tech modules, and new features added. This was a great call, but it did leave one mark: the distinctions between each ship didn't matter anymore; Haulers don't even have the benefit of additional cargo space, since all S-class ships can have the same total number of slots.
I was talking ship perks with someone, and it got me thinking that perhaps it would make sense to introduce new strengths to less used ship types. As I was mulling it over, I realized that some of these changes would have to be pretty potent to stand up to current-day standards -- poor Shuttles, their only real signature is that their takeoff price is reduced, made obsolete by the auto-recharge modules. So I decided to spitball a few ideas trying to stay true to the ship's purpose while taking 2024 NMS in mind, and see if the following suggestions are strong enough to make you think "oh yeah, I'd definitely want to own a [ship type]."
Shuttles:
submitted by Snoo61755 to NoMansSkyTheGame [link] [comments]
I was talking ship perks with someone, and it got me thinking that perhaps it would make sense to introduce new strengths to less used ship types. As I was mulling it over, I realized that some of these changes would have to be pretty potent to stand up to current-day standards -- poor Shuttles, their only real signature is that their takeoff price is reduced, made obsolete by the auto-recharge modules. So I decided to spitball a few ideas trying to stay true to the ship's purpose while taking 2024 NMS in mind, and see if the following suggestions are strong enough to make you think "oh yeah, I'd definitely want to own a [ship type]."
Shuttles:
- 25% faster flight speed than others while in-atmosphere.
- 100% faster Pulse Drive speed.
- Takeoffs and landings are quicker and snappier.
- Cargo slots are double-sized, just like Freighters and storage containers.
- One storage augmentation slot unlocks two slots when used to unlock cargo slots.
- When the Teleport Receiver is installed, Hauler item teleport range is unlimited within the same star system.
- Increased chance of finding Space Encounters while pulsing. Alien Traders completely removed from encounter pool (Frequency 12 > 0). Odds of Rogue Black Hole and Relic Gate events tripled (Frequency 1 > 3).
- Eating food while in a ship refuels the ship's hyper drive, pulse drive, launch thrusters, and damaged shields.
- Scanning one planet scans every planet in the system.
- Hyperdrive chain jumps. When setting a waypoint on the galactic map, can directly jump to that waypoint as long as the Explorer would have enough fuel to reach there, or up to 5 jumps (aka 5x listed hyperdrive range).
2024.05.14 03:54 Ghost00074 [36m] What’s up? I am here looking for friends, also eventually my bestie!
Hey, my name is Ralph. I am 36, and I live in Florida. I travel for work though so I am all over the place and I travel full time. So that means I am not on any specific time zone, I sleep when I’m tired. As flight crew my work schedule can be 7 days a week, 365 days a year and holidays. I prefer it that way vs a traditional 9-5 Monday to Friday type job, no thanks. As flight crew I get to see the world and get paid for it. I truly love my job and what I do. I also get to live in Florida but still see all 4 seasons! I have been to 19 countries and growing!
I am a nerd. I love gaming. I have a PS5, gaming desktop, gaming laptop, switch OLED, etc. I am also an electronic music producer. I produce house, tech house, trance, techno, drum and bass, etc! It is just for fun!
I am looking for friends. I am VERY picky with who I respond to and make friends with. I am also looking for my best friend but that takes time and it just has to happen. I just need to click with someone. Someone who immediately gets my high level of sarcasm, etc.
I am looking for real life friends not just online! Message me! :)
submitted by Ghost00074 to friendship [link] [comments]
I am a nerd. I love gaming. I have a PS5, gaming desktop, gaming laptop, switch OLED, etc. I am also an electronic music producer. I produce house, tech house, trance, techno, drum and bass, etc! It is just for fun!
I am looking for friends. I am VERY picky with who I respond to and make friends with. I am also looking for my best friend but that takes time and it just has to happen. I just need to click with someone. Someone who immediately gets my high level of sarcasm, etc.
I am looking for real life friends not just online! Message me! :)
2024.05.14 03:53 FlaxbopFleetfoot 29 [M4F] NC/Online - If One is a Goose, and Two are Geese, what Excuse have the Moose, for not Being Meese?
For those who are curious, the real reason is that "moose" is a word that comes from native American languages, whereas "goose" is a germanic word, and therefore they are pluralized differently. English just steals words from everywhere, lol. Anyway, let me get into who I am and what I'm looking for.
It's really difficult to sum yourself up, especially without context, in few words, but I'll try. I'm a nerdy individual like a lot of people on here. My favorite activity during the week is my D&D game. In fact, this account is named after my character from that very game! Ask about it at risk of an overly enthusiastic explanation. I also play a lot of single-player RPGs on my computer, so video games are a thing too. I rarely play with other people, but I have played shooters and ARPGs before when playing with others.
I'm currently working on getting an engineering degree. Yes, at 29. First attempt didn't go so hot because of the undiagnosed ADHD and a host of other issues which I'm working on and have mostly got under control. I'll tell you more about my specific field if we talk. As you might imagine, I'm no stranger to mental health issues. If you're going through anything, I'd definitely be willing to hear you out.
As for what I'm looking for... anything on the spectrum of one-night fling to marriage. Ya know, very narrow band of things. In all seriousness, I just want some intimacy, I think most of us here know what that feels like. Tagged NSFW because it could be that, but It doesn't need to be sexual right off the bat, I usually go at the pace of my partner.
Just to spare us the awkwardness later, I'm 5'5, and obviously can't change that. I understand that you may have preferences, and that's ok, we all do!
And that's about it. Hope to hear from you, have a great day if I don't.
submitted by FlaxbopFleetfoot to r4r [link] [comments]
It's really difficult to sum yourself up, especially without context, in few words, but I'll try. I'm a nerdy individual like a lot of people on here. My favorite activity during the week is my D&D game. In fact, this account is named after my character from that very game! Ask about it at risk of an overly enthusiastic explanation. I also play a lot of single-player RPGs on my computer, so video games are a thing too. I rarely play with other people, but I have played shooters and ARPGs before when playing with others.
I'm currently working on getting an engineering degree. Yes, at 29. First attempt didn't go so hot because of the undiagnosed ADHD and a host of other issues which I'm working on and have mostly got under control. I'll tell you more about my specific field if we talk. As you might imagine, I'm no stranger to mental health issues. If you're going through anything, I'd definitely be willing to hear you out.
As for what I'm looking for... anything on the spectrum of one-night fling to marriage. Ya know, very narrow band of things. In all seriousness, I just want some intimacy, I think most of us here know what that feels like. Tagged NSFW because it could be that, but It doesn't need to be sexual right off the bat, I usually go at the pace of my partner.
Just to spare us the awkwardness later, I'm 5'5, and obviously can't change that. I understand that you may have preferences, and that's ok, we all do!
And that's about it. Hope to hear from you, have a great day if I don't.
2024.05.14 03:53 Farts_n_kisses Three things that REALLY bothered me in S6
There’s the obvious plot line that everyone seems to hate (and rightfully so) - Deb falling for Dexter. Not only is that super messed up, but WHY tf would the therapist essentially bring that up and push her in that direction?! Weird. Anyway, here are the three things:
submitted by Farts_n_kisses to Dexter [link] [comments]
- In one of the first episodes (if not the first episode), I said to my bf “Oh god, is this old guy to Colin Hanks what Dexter’s dad is to Dexter?” In other words, I thought Geller was dead and Travis was imagining him. Shortly after I said that, there was a scene where Geller was helping Travis carry something. So I said “Oh, nevermind. He has to be real, he was just helping him lift something.” Unless I’m wrong about the timeline / Geller being dead the entire time we saw him, that’s a big error.
- After the eclipse showdown on the roof of the building, how the F did Dexter get Travis’ unconscious body all the way downstairs to his car, AND without being spotted by anyone / security cameras / cops?! AND WITH HARRISON IN TOW, no less!!
- This one is way less important but it still bothered me: why did the police keep referring to Travis as Travis? In any other case they would have referred to him as Marshall. So why the first-name basis with this one? How odd.
2024.05.14 03:53 shaneka69 CANCER ZODIAC - UNEXPECTED INCOME! TAROT READING MAY 2024
CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 03:50 Disastrous-Disk5696 And now we have proper name for Karl Nell's talk: "The Real Black Swan Event: The Controlled Disclosure of UAP and Non-Human Intelligence"
 | submitted by Disastrous-Disk5696 to UFOs [link] [comments] |
2024.05.14 03:49 baineschile Updated Vegas Numbers - Receiving and Rushing
There are many questions on here about a similar issue;
-Who is the best dynasty analyst?
-What's the best dynasty podcast?
-What's your prediction for X player?
I have found, that when in doubt - Vegas gives the best options. Draft Kings updated today with a bunch of rushing and receiving numbers for the upcoming season.
.
.
.
And receiving
.
.
.
You can also find more interesting stuff here on DKs site if these odds are your thing.
submitted by baineschile to DynastyFF [link] [comments]
-Who is the best dynasty analyst?
-What's the best dynasty podcast?
-What's your prediction for X player?
I have found, that when in doubt - Vegas gives the best options. Draft Kings updated today with a bunch of rushing and receiving numbers for the upcoming season.
.
.
| Player Name | Rushing Yards |
|---|---|
| Christian McCaffrey | 1150 |
| Saquon Barkey | 1125 |
| Josh Jacobs | 1000 |
| Derrick Henry | 999 |
| Zack Moss | 850 |
| DAndre Swift | 850 |
| Tony Pollard | 800 |
| Jonathon Brooks | 775 |
| Blake Corum | 500 |
| Trey Benson | 500 |
| Jayden Daniels | 500 |
| MarShawn Lloyd | 450 |
And receiving
.
| Player Name | Receiving Yards |
|---|---|
| Tyreek Hill | 1375 |
| CeeDee Lamb | 1350 |
| JaMarr Chase | 1300 |
| AJ Brown | 1300 |
| Justin Jefferson | 1275 |
| AmonRa StBrown | 1250 |
| Puka Nacua | 1200 |
| Garret Wilson | 1200 |
| Mike Evans | 1125 |
| Michael Pittman | 1050 |
| Devonta Smith | 1050 |
| MHJ | 1000 |
| George Pickens | 1000 |
| Stefon Diggs | 928 |
| Zay Flowers | 925 |
| Travis Kelce | 900 |
| Malik Nabers | 875 |
| Calvin Ridley | 875 |
| Diontae Johnson | 825 |
| Xavier Worthy | 800 |
| Ladd McConkey | 775 |
| Brian Thomas Jr | 750 |
| Keon Coleman | 750 |
| Jerry Jeudy | 725 |
| Rome Odunze | 700 |
| Brock Bowers | 650 |
| Adonai Mitchell | 650 |
| Xavier Legette | 600 |
| Christian McCaffrey | 500 |
.
You can also find more interesting stuff here on DKs site if these odds are your thing.
2024.05.14 03:49 KCHank Boomer doesn’t understand how Facebook works, calls me a scammer because of it.
 | I run consumer shopping events where I sell booth space to vendors to sell to consumers, think craft and Christmas shows. We do a lot of social media outreach to find vendors from our events. I work for one of the largest producers in North American doing this. Top notch marketing team and graphic designers. Our marketing team will create graphics we can share in vendor groups to find new vendors. Lots of our vendors are older in the boomer age group. Our policy is to always include our work email and phone number on all graphics, and we don’t take Venmo for our events. submitted by KCHank to BoomersBeingFools [link] [comments] A first happened to me this evening. I had made a post over the weekend in a vendor group, got a lot of traction. I get a notification tonight that someone had commented on my graphic and said “I turned you in a scammer!! Take it down now!” I look at the vendors Facebook page and she had posted my graphic earlier in the day asking if anyone had heard of the event. Then later posted again the same graphic and said “This now say contact (vendor name). This is a Scam!!! I find the vendors number and call her right away trying to get to the bottom of what the heck is going on. Vendor claims she emailed me and it wasn’t a valid email address, it’s correct on the graphic. Vendor swears up and down that her name is now in front of my name on the lower right, so I ask her to text me the image which she does. Vendor is correct, her name is on the lower right, followed by my name and phone/emails. Vendor says that her son looked that the flyer and her name was there on the contact information. However I figure out that this vendor has clicked the image on her phone on her post, so of course her name is in the lower right corner because she posted it. I text here (images included) what happened, does’t respond. Try to call her and won’t answer now. Typical boomer, can’t be wrong. |
2024.05.14 03:49 2201992 Biden is literally admitting the Shadow Government is real and people are just laughing it off what the fuck. Listen to his words. My name is Joe Biden I work for Kamala Harris. Biden is only President on Paper. He’s to far gone.
 | submitted by 2201992 to conspiracy [link] [comments] |
2024.05.14 03:47 MarilynMonheaux How Can I Avoid Being Used?
I don’t blame any of the people who have used me throughout my life. In a lot of my social circles, I quickly get the name “Mama” for my nurturing spirit. People pick up on my giving nature and they want to be close to it.
I understand why someone would want to use me, or anyone really. Nobody wants to use something of no value, right? I have an affinity for people who are hurting and struggling because helping people feels good to me. It could be said that my need to help and support others is just like their need to seek support or help from others. Everyone needs help some time, and there is nothing wrong with that.
I have asked the people that know me best why I find myself in situations where I get taken advantage of. I know that I’m a poor boundary setter, and I have trouble telling people I care about “no.” I often say yes until I’m ready to go super saiyan on them. I don’t blame others for that, I don’t air my grievances real time and I let my frustrations stack up. When I’m done, I explode which strains my relationships.
What I’m puzzled with is why people seem to get enraged when I do set boundaries. I’ve had people who were once friendly or tried to be my friend get very irate when I set boundaries in the relationship. Several people have turned around and become bullies, using what I shared against me.
I know I’m not perfect. I do have a sharp tongue. I do well alone and I don’t always deliver my thoughts with the best tact. I try my best but I’m sure I offend some of the people I care about with my word choice and delivery.
That’s not my baseline though. I wake up every day smiling, grateful to be alive. I’m naturally bubbly, talkative, and upbeat. I try to see the best in people, I try to do the right thing when I can.
Some people who are biased and know me well say “maybe it’s the beauty, maybe it’s the booty. Maybe they want your shoes or are envious of their perception of the life you live.”
I hear that, but there are some people much more beautiful and intelligent than I that everyone seems to fawn over and that can do no wrong.
I don’t need people to be my minions, I would just like the people I care about not to turn on me, use me, or try to hurt me because I’m trying to set boundaries.
submitted by MarilynMonheaux to selfimprovement [link] [comments]
I understand why someone would want to use me, or anyone really. Nobody wants to use something of no value, right? I have an affinity for people who are hurting and struggling because helping people feels good to me. It could be said that my need to help and support others is just like their need to seek support or help from others. Everyone needs help some time, and there is nothing wrong with that.
I have asked the people that know me best why I find myself in situations where I get taken advantage of. I know that I’m a poor boundary setter, and I have trouble telling people I care about “no.” I often say yes until I’m ready to go super saiyan on them. I don’t blame others for that, I don’t air my grievances real time and I let my frustrations stack up. When I’m done, I explode which strains my relationships.
What I’m puzzled with is why people seem to get enraged when I do set boundaries. I’ve had people who were once friendly or tried to be my friend get very irate when I set boundaries in the relationship. Several people have turned around and become bullies, using what I shared against me.
I know I’m not perfect. I do have a sharp tongue. I do well alone and I don’t always deliver my thoughts with the best tact. I try my best but I’m sure I offend some of the people I care about with my word choice and delivery.
That’s not my baseline though. I wake up every day smiling, grateful to be alive. I’m naturally bubbly, talkative, and upbeat. I try to see the best in people, I try to do the right thing when I can.
Some people who are biased and know me well say “maybe it’s the beauty, maybe it’s the booty. Maybe they want your shoes or are envious of their perception of the life you live.”
I hear that, but there are some people much more beautiful and intelligent than I that everyone seems to fawn over and that can do no wrong.
I don’t need people to be my minions, I would just like the people I care about not to turn on me, use me, or try to hurt me because I’m trying to set boundaries.
2024.05.14 03:47 CheckUrCrawlspaces Growing up, my mother forbade me from ever talking about my little brother outside the house. 50 years later, they're both dead, and I'm ready to talk
The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.
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Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.
2024.05.14 03:46 Civil-Ad-4334 Question: Weird things happening after being more involved in the religion
Has anyone had odd or inexplainable things happen after they started attending church or getting more into Christianity?
For background; my boyfriend and I have recently gotten more into Christianity, have started going to church, and he’s been reading the Bible. We both have dabbled in the religion because we both grew up in it but weren’t real serious about going to church and such. But lately after we started going some weird things have been happening to us like after we went to church the first time I was in bed alone trying to sleep (I was still very much awake though) and heard my boyfriends voice clear as day say my name from the living room but our door was closed. I texted him after I responded to the voice and realized he hadn’t come in the room and asked if it was him and he said no. A few days later I was once again in bed laying down at night and I was scrolling on my phone and I felt something like a hand frantically moving around the edge of the bed near my stomach like a grabbing motion over and over again super fast and when I went to look if it was our dog nothing was there and he was asleep on the other side of me. Last night I had a dream that my mom, who also is Christian, told me that God does really protect us but that’s the complete opposite of what both of us believe and she would NEVER say that and my mom is a very important person to me. I don’t have a personal or family history of schizophrenia or sleep paralysis either so these instances are just very weird and out of nowhere ever since we started coming to church and praying and having bibles around. Sorry for the long read
submitted by Civil-Ad-4334 to Christianity [link] [comments]
For background; my boyfriend and I have recently gotten more into Christianity, have started going to church, and he’s been reading the Bible. We both have dabbled in the religion because we both grew up in it but weren’t real serious about going to church and such. But lately after we started going some weird things have been happening to us like after we went to church the first time I was in bed alone trying to sleep (I was still very much awake though) and heard my boyfriends voice clear as day say my name from the living room but our door was closed. I texted him after I responded to the voice and realized he hadn’t come in the room and asked if it was him and he said no. A few days later I was once again in bed laying down at night and I was scrolling on my phone and I felt something like a hand frantically moving around the edge of the bed near my stomach like a grabbing motion over and over again super fast and when I went to look if it was our dog nothing was there and he was asleep on the other side of me. Last night I had a dream that my mom, who also is Christian, told me that God does really protect us but that’s the complete opposite of what both of us believe and she would NEVER say that and my mom is a very important person to me. I don’t have a personal or family history of schizophrenia or sleep paralysis either so these instances are just very weird and out of nowhere ever since we started coming to church and praying and having bibles around. Sorry for the long read
2024.05.14 03:45 Any_Necessary_2327 Italian ancestry
so my grandmother's family is from Italy. She passed when I was young and also grew up in Canada(born in Canada too) with a fake last name. So I have no stories or real info. How can I find out where exactly her family is from? In Italy, I have done ancestry but none of their documents show the exact place. Do you know if there is a specific place I can look? or am I in a dead end?
submitted by Any_Necessary_2327 to Genealogy [link] [comments]
2024.05.14 03:44 N0Us34ANam3 TMZ .... Again
 | She already ran to TMZ claiming victim over "death threats" and "clarifying" what she meant by the post 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 submitted by N0Us34ANam3 to GRBsnark [link] [comments] She's been getting death threats since she was in prison. It's nothing new to her.... https://www.tmz.com/2024/05/13/gypsy-rose-blanchard-defends-mothers-day-post-after-death-threats/ 5/13/2024 1:21 PM PT Gypsy Rose Blanchard is facing some serious backlash over her Mother's Day tribute -- and now, she's defending herself ... this while fending off serious threats online, TMZ has learned. GRB tells TMZ ... her heartfelt tribute on TikTok -- which mentioned her late mother, Dee Dee, as well as other mother figures in her life -- was simply meant to acknowledge her stepmother Kristy and boyfriend Ken Urker's mom ... as they've done a lot for her in recent years. We're told the post was in no way meant to be disrespectful to Dee -- whose name she invoked in her lengthy tribute, which a lot of people took offense to ... and yet, Gypsy's being inundated with hate as a result -- including some major threats on her safety. She adds ... "When I said that I hope my mom is proud of me, people are thinking I meant she would be proud of the murder. That is obviously not what I meant. I meant she would be proud of me in heaven, like getting my GED, moving towards independence and learning how to cook, clean, having my own bank account etc." Play video content LONG LIST OF REPORTS Despite turning off the comments, GRB says she's been hit with a number of negative messages in her DMs ... including death threats, which Gypsy has since reported. We got a hold of some of the messages that are pouring into her inbox ... and it's clear people are blowing her up, a majority of which we're told are people writing in to slam her, or worse. Dee Dee and Gypsy She defended herself, adding ... "Because of what happened with my mom, that shouldn’t make me exempt from wishing the other women in my life a HMD ... I didn’t say this because of my balls and audacity, I did this message because I have women in my life that are supportive." Gypsy & Dee Dee Remember, Gypsy Rose served 8 years in prison for the role she played in her mother's murder. Their complicated relationship was dramatized for Hulu's miniseries, "The Act," in which Joey King and Patricia Arquette played the infamous mother-daughter duo. Gypsy Rose Blanchard kristy Getty Now, as for how Gypsy Rose spent Mother's Day ... we're told she enjoyed a lowkey day, where she and her stepmom watched chick flicks and just relaxed. Gypsy also cooked dinner for Kristy, who received a teddy bear and a glass ornament as a Mother's Day gift. Gypsy Rose Blanchard Through The Years GYPSY ROSE BLANCHARD THROUGH THE YEARS LAUNCH GALLERY Dee Dee was in Gypsy Rose's thoughts, however ... with GRB saying a prayer for her late mother on Sunday. She explained ... "I remember the good she had in her and the good times. I don’t think about the abuse or murder. I miss her and have a lot of guilt and regret." |
2024.05.14 03:44 Happy_Artichoke_5883 I’m engaged and miss my ex. But it’s not what you think.
I won’t be using real names as I don’t want anyone to find out at the moment. This is extremely unusual and complicated that I really need an outside perspective.
During my sophomore year of high school, about seven years ago, I met a guy whom we'll call Charlie. At the time, we were both in separate relationships, but we hit it off as great friends despite having very little in common and polar opposite personalities.
Over the next year, we both became single and decided to pursue a romantic relationship. He was my first true love, and we essentially grew into adulthood together. Everything was great, we had LOADS of inside jokes and great trust in each other. Despite our strong bond, we constantly fought over little shit and struggled to see eye to eye. When I got emotional, Charlie would often withdraw, "I'm done talking to you until you stop crying." He was more logical and less emotionally supportive, which created friction between us. Our differing life goals further strained our relationship. I wanted children at a young age and dreamed of moving out of state, whereas Charlie preferred to stay put and have children much later in life.
This led to three breakups over four years, with long periods of separation each time. Despite our differences, we always found our way back to each other as friends, like magnets. But would then re-enter a romantic relationship. Looking back, I realize we were better off as friends, but Charlie always wanted more. I repeatedly entered romantic relationships with him because I feared losing him for good.
Our last breakup was in October 2022, and surprisingly, I felt nothing. I moved on quickly, focusing on my new job and dating other guys. In November 2022, I met my now-fiancé, and our relationship progressed rapidly, resulting in an unexpected pregnancy just 3 months in. I'm genuinely happy with my fiancé and our life we built together and wouldn't change it for the world. However, over the past six months, thoughts of Charlie have consumed me. I dream about him every night, but these dreams are not romantic—they simply involve us talking, as if no time has passed at all. This has significantly impacted my mental state, and I'm unsure how to move forward.
I don’t miss Charlie romantically, we were not compatible on that level. What I miss deeply is our bond, our inside jokes, and simply talking to him as a friend. I am confused as I was completely fine for over a year and now suddenly it feels like a heavy weight on my chest. I’m constantly on the verge of tears, grieving Charlie as if he died. I want to reach out to him, to know how he's doing, whether he got his dream job, but I hesitate because I fear Charlie may resent me for moving on so quickly. I also don’t want to disrespect my fiancé and our relationship.
This is consuming me, and I can’t tell anyone I know because they will misunderstand my feelings. How do I cope? How can I get over this lost friendship and this person I will probably never talk to or see again? I’ve never had a bond like me and him had. Charlie was my platonic soulmate and he’s now forever gone. It’s breaking my heart. I desperately need help.
submitted by Happy_Artichoke_5883 to TwoHotTakes [link] [comments]
During my sophomore year of high school, about seven years ago, I met a guy whom we'll call Charlie. At the time, we were both in separate relationships, but we hit it off as great friends despite having very little in common and polar opposite personalities.
Over the next year, we both became single and decided to pursue a romantic relationship. He was my first true love, and we essentially grew into adulthood together. Everything was great, we had LOADS of inside jokes and great trust in each other. Despite our strong bond, we constantly fought over little shit and struggled to see eye to eye. When I got emotional, Charlie would often withdraw, "I'm done talking to you until you stop crying." He was more logical and less emotionally supportive, which created friction between us. Our differing life goals further strained our relationship. I wanted children at a young age and dreamed of moving out of state, whereas Charlie preferred to stay put and have children much later in life.
This led to three breakups over four years, with long periods of separation each time. Despite our differences, we always found our way back to each other as friends, like magnets. But would then re-enter a romantic relationship. Looking back, I realize we were better off as friends, but Charlie always wanted more. I repeatedly entered romantic relationships with him because I feared losing him for good.
Our last breakup was in October 2022, and surprisingly, I felt nothing. I moved on quickly, focusing on my new job and dating other guys. In November 2022, I met my now-fiancé, and our relationship progressed rapidly, resulting in an unexpected pregnancy just 3 months in. I'm genuinely happy with my fiancé and our life we built together and wouldn't change it for the world. However, over the past six months, thoughts of Charlie have consumed me. I dream about him every night, but these dreams are not romantic—they simply involve us talking, as if no time has passed at all. This has significantly impacted my mental state, and I'm unsure how to move forward.
I don’t miss Charlie romantically, we were not compatible on that level. What I miss deeply is our bond, our inside jokes, and simply talking to him as a friend. I am confused as I was completely fine for over a year and now suddenly it feels like a heavy weight on my chest. I’m constantly on the verge of tears, grieving Charlie as if he died. I want to reach out to him, to know how he's doing, whether he got his dream job, but I hesitate because I fear Charlie may resent me for moving on so quickly. I also don’t want to disrespect my fiancé and our relationship.
This is consuming me, and I can’t tell anyone I know because they will misunderstand my feelings. How do I cope? How can I get over this lost friendship and this person I will probably never talk to or see again? I’ve never had a bond like me and him had. Charlie was my platonic soulmate and he’s now forever gone. It’s breaking my heart. I desperately need help.
2024.05.14 03:44 shaneka69 LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
LIBRA ZODIAC PREDICTIONS MAY 2024
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2024.05.14 03:41 HopefulHighway2882 Cox SPAM call?
So I received a call from a random number, the person claimed to be a cox representative, knew my name etc, wanted to offer promotions.
I suspected it's fraud and didn't share any information! But just checking if this is a common thing and if receiving a call and engaging for a few minutes (even though you haven't shared any personal information) is a cause of concern.
(I later checked with Cox and they said it is a spam call)
submitted by HopefulHighway2882 to CoxCommunications [link] [comments]
I suspected it's fraud and didn't share any information! But just checking if this is a common thing and if receiving a call and engaging for a few minutes (even though you haven't shared any personal information) is a cause of concern.
(I later checked with Cox and they said it is a spam call)
2024.05.14 03:41 Happy_Artichoke_5883 I’m engaged and miss my ex. But it’s not what you think.
I won’t be using real names as I don’t want anyone to find out at the moment. This is extremely unusual and complicated that I really need an outside perspective.
During my sophomore year of high school, about seven years ago, I met a guy whom we'll call Charlie. At the time, we were both in separate relationships, but we hit it off as great friends despite having very little in common and polar opposite personalities.
Over the next year, we both became single and decided to pursue a romantic relationship. He was my first true love, and we essentially grew into adulthood together. Everything was great, we had LOADS of inside jokes and great trust in each other. Despite our strong bond, we constantly fought over little shit and struggled to see eye to eye. When I got emotional, Charlie would often withdraw, "I'm done talking to you until you stop crying." He was more logical and less emotionally supportive, which created friction between us. Our differing life goals further strained our relationship. I wanted children at a young age and dreamed of moving out of state, whereas Charlie preferred to stay put and have children much later in life.
This led to three breakups over four years, with long periods of separation each time. Despite our differences, we always found our way back to each other as friends, like magnets. But would then re-enter a romantic relationship. Looking back, I realize we were better off as friends, but Charlie always wanted more. I repeatedly entered romantic relationships with him because I feared losing him for good.
Our last breakup was in October 2022, and surprisingly, I felt nothing. I moved on quickly, focusing on my new job and dating other guys. In November 2022, I met my now-fiancé, and our relationship progressed rapidly, resulting in an unexpected pregnancy just 3 months in. I'm genuinely happy with my fiancé and our life we built together and wouldn't change it for the world. However, over the past six months, thoughts of Charlie have consumed me. I dream about him every night, but these dreams are not romantic—they simply involve us talking, as if no time has passed at all. This has significantly impacted my mental state, and I'm unsure how to move forward.
I don’t miss Charlie romantically, we were not compatible on that level. What I miss deeply is our bond, our inside jokes, and simply talking to him as a friend. I am confused as I was completely fine for over a year and now suddenly it feels like a heavy weight on my chest. I’m constantly on the verge of tears, grieving Charlie as if he died. I want to reach out to him, to know how he's doing, whether he got his dream job, but I hesitate because I fear Charlie may resent me for moving on so quickly. I also don’t want to disrespect my fiancé and our relationship.
This is consuming me, and I can’t tell anyone I know because they will misunderstand my feelings. How do I cope? How can I get over this lost friendship and this person I will probably never talk to or see again? I’ve never had a bond like me and him had. Charlie was my platonic soulmate and he’s now forever gone. It’s breaking my heart. I desperately need help.
submitted by Happy_Artichoke_5883 to TrueOffMyChest [link] [comments]
During my sophomore year of high school, about seven years ago, I met a guy whom we'll call Charlie. At the time, we were both in separate relationships, but we hit it off as great friends despite having very little in common and polar opposite personalities.
Over the next year, we both became single and decided to pursue a romantic relationship. He was my first true love, and we essentially grew into adulthood together. Everything was great, we had LOADS of inside jokes and great trust in each other. Despite our strong bond, we constantly fought over little shit and struggled to see eye to eye. When I got emotional, Charlie would often withdraw, "I'm done talking to you until you stop crying." He was more logical and less emotionally supportive, which created friction between us. Our differing life goals further strained our relationship. I wanted children at a young age and dreamed of moving out of state, whereas Charlie preferred to stay put and have children much later in life.
This led to three breakups over four years, with long periods of separation each time. Despite our differences, we always found our way back to each other as friends, like magnets. But would then re-enter a romantic relationship. Looking back, I realize we were better off as friends, but Charlie always wanted more. I repeatedly entered romantic relationships with him because I feared losing him for good.
Our last breakup was in October 2022, and surprisingly, I felt nothing. I moved on quickly, focusing on my new job and dating other guys. In November 2022, I met my now-fiancé, and our relationship progressed rapidly, resulting in an unexpected pregnancy just 3 months in. I'm genuinely happy with my fiancé and our life we built together and wouldn't change it for the world. However, over the past six months, thoughts of Charlie have consumed me. I dream about him every night, but these dreams are not romantic—they simply involve us talking, as if no time has passed at all. This has significantly impacted my mental state, and I'm unsure how to move forward.
I don’t miss Charlie romantically, we were not compatible on that level. What I miss deeply is our bond, our inside jokes, and simply talking to him as a friend. I am confused as I was completely fine for over a year and now suddenly it feels like a heavy weight on my chest. I’m constantly on the verge of tears, grieving Charlie as if he died. I want to reach out to him, to know how he's doing, whether he got his dream job, but I hesitate because I fear Charlie may resent me for moving on so quickly. I also don’t want to disrespect my fiancé and our relationship.
This is consuming me, and I can’t tell anyone I know because they will misunderstand my feelings. How do I cope? How can I get over this lost friendship and this person I will probably never talk to or see again? I’ve never had a bond like me and him had. Charlie was my platonic soulmate and he’s now forever gone. It’s breaking my heart. I desperately need help.