Halle Bailey And Jodi Benson | The World Premiere Of Disney's "The Little Mermaid" In Hollywood, California

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of su*c*d*l ideations, harassment, trauma, hospitalizations, breakdowns, triggers, depression, PTSD symptoms.* Sunday, May 28th, 2023 Part 3

12:06pm

That incident with the driver triggered me, so badly to the point where for the next week, it was like I was back with Dad and with my step-dad. I couldn’t separate my past reality with my present one. And, 4 days in, I stopped going to classes. I missed 2 weeks by the time that I almost acted on my su*c*d*al ideations. I stopped myself though, and told my therapist. She suggested I go to an in-patient hospital down the road at Emory, and I took it. But, it made everything worse, and I regretted it.

I went without telling anyone, and I thought the school would handle all necessary communications with my teachers, like they said they would, but they didn’t. I was bitter and sad and angry and numb the moment I stepped out of the hospital after almost a week. Then, I spoke to you and the New York Plan started.

You were the first and only person that I told about the hospital. I thought you would be mad at me, at least I made myself believe that. But, you were the opposite, you were mad at Emory like I was, and after you told me what you went through to try to find me, I thought you were finally starting to understand why I didn’t like it at Emory. You were fiercely protective of me like you always have been, and I knew that my big sister had me.

But then, you called back later that day and said that I should fly out to New York the next day, and for the first time, you scared me. Everything was moving too fast all of a sudden, and me, being where I was, just out of the hospital and so ready to die, I was so ready to come to you, but the logical side of me pumped the brakes so hard and so fast.

Of course, I needed the support, I wanted the support, but there was no way that I could just up and leave, but also, leave and then what? We didn’t talk about that first. I had to think about my college trajectory, how things would change, what I would be risking, what and who I would leave behind. Everything was too much to work out to just leave the next day. I processed and understood that enough to take a pause, which in hindsight, I really commend myself for.

The next 2 weeks were awful. I was breaking down crying almost every night, trying to wrestle with the fact of leaving not just just Emory, but the life that I had staked everything and was failing to maintain. I was losing an already lost battle, but it was just catching up to me. When my professors told me that I either would need to leave or fail my classes, when my therapist was pushing for me to go, when my advisor told me leaving would save my full-ride scholarship. The world decided for me what would be next, and I watched my world shatter. It was heartbreaking and frustrating and so filled to the brim with grief that I was drowning, truly, when I already thought I was. But, there was you and there was Gem.

And even though I had a January deadline to meet and the pressure equaled my sorrow, I knew what to be done. So, I filed the medical leave, and jumped on the plane.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and depressive feelings.*

Saturday, Oct. 22nd, 2022 Part 2

10:30pm

But today was different. I slept in this morning, and woke up feeling a lot clearer mentally and didn’t feel as physically sick as I have been. I still feel slower and unstable, but I was in a better state than the past month. I felt like dressing up today and tried to find an outfit that would be cool to wear to go out and purchase some new journals and pens.

My sister, Angel, and her girlfriend, Gem, made breakfast and it was nice. I did notice that my mood started to drop as time passed. I was very withdrawn and didn’t feel like talking, but it was okay, I’m hoping I will start to open up more as I get more settled in here in NYC.

I got up from eating breakfast and started washing dishes to do my part in helping out, while Gem and Angel continued to eat and talk. I was getting frustrated with myself because I felt stunted from everything I’ve been through lately. All of a sudden, I started feeling hot, dizzy, and had trouble breathing, I think it was because washing dishes was proving to be more taxing than usual. I ended up being okay eventually.

Right as I was finishing cleaning, Gem called me over, and told me that she and Angel bought tickets to a dance performance for my birthday. I was grateful for the gift and very surprised that they were thinking of my birthday in the midst of all that was happening. But I still didn’t feel moved, I felt dead and empty in response. I did my best to communicate that this was exciting and that I was thankful, but I felt disappointed that I didn’t respond better.

I started to feel unsettled and anxious after that, the restlessness that I have been feeling here lately has been nonstop. Then, Angel was very late getting ready for work and seemed very anxious, paranoid, and rushed. I was just sitting on the couch while they both were rushing around the apartment. Her anxiety was starting to rub off on me, as I was concerned for her, but also uncomfortable with just sitting in the middle of that. She gave me a rushed hug and ran out of the door, and I realized after that I was anxious because I was anticipating for her to snap at me.

I feel like I shouldn’t be here and that it was a mistake for me to move in with them and that I’m not enough, and I thought they felt similar… still do. I’m waiting for the moment this all falls apart, that I screw up or make a mistake so bad that they resent me. Because I don’t trust myself in anything right now or believe in myself.

But, I found out later that Angel felt bad about how she left and said goodbye. It isn’t really hitting me until now that everything was fine and she probably wasn’t even thinking about me. I need to remind myself that I am not resented or being antagonized for being here. I deserve to be helped. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to have the life that I’ve wanted. This is the path needed to get there. I am safe. I am loved and am loving. I am cared for and supported. I will get through this.

Part 1 -- Part 3

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 Part 2 6:32pm

Now, I introduce you to our new roles. I became the “golden child”; conditioned to get the perfect grades and carry out all orders timely and perfectly. I was the “nanny and pseudo-parent”; directed to take care of my siblings, provide food for them, get them ready for school, help with homework, and handle any misbehaving and report only the extremes. I was the “maid”; the only child in the house with chores, which meant I had all of them, even cleaning up after my “parents”. And, I was the “butler”; I had to deliver everyone their plates, eating last, and take James’ dishes after every meal and bring him a hot cloth to clean his hands. I became depressed, anxious, and extremely hyper-independent, curling in on myself and realizing this is not what “home” should feel like. I was “maturing” fast, and my adults took advantage of it.

Anthony was the “rebellious child”. He was more outwardly angry, picked fights at school, and sought comfort in his friends. He wasn’t trusted with responsibility, so he didn’t receive any. And, eventually, the rules and standards that were established with me, as the oldest, didn’t work with him. He gradually grew more and more distant with the family, as I was becoming the crutch for them.

My two little sisters, and soon-to-be youngest brother, were raised more graciously, still servants to the king and with the same emotional detachment. Thankfully, they never had to experience the abuse that Anthony and I had to endure. So, while they love their father, because that’s all they know, they don’t know the true terrors of that man, and I’m truly grateful that they won’t ever go through that. 

My mother suffered as you put all of the parenting responsibilities onto her, as you forced her to attend to every need and want you spoke of, as you made her shoulder the finances to keep the house fed and taken care of. You, however, would go to your job (I can’t even remember which one because you job-hopped so much), come home, claim and monopolize the washer and the bathroom for hours, shut yourself in your room to watch “your” TV, beg and call for “your wife” to come spend time with you while asking her to do everything for you, ignore your kids and yell at them to stay quiet, and go to sleep. This is your daily routine, even now in the present.

I left my home because of you. I was 10, and my father had reappeared back in my life for the past 2 years. After visiting him twice, he offered me to come live with him, and I took it because anything’s better than here, right? WRONG. My dad is a whole other story, but I came back after a year. You would think that would be enough time for change to take hold, but it didn’t, and how could there when the space is constantly suffocated and stifled with immaturity, unintelligence, and vitriol. 

The standard was to get all the chores done before you got home and without being told, which is normal, if you disregard the fact that you threatened to beat us within an inch of our lives if we didn’t do so. You did plenty of times before. Having to hide bruises with long-sleeved shirts, oversized hoodies, and pants in the summer, and excusing ones on my face with stories of rough-housing or accidental falling against a cabinet. 

The standard was to watch the kids at all times, and make sure that they don’t get into trouble. Once, when Malia was learning to stand up on her own, she fell and hit her forehead on a vent, while I was changing a movie for Anthony and I. I was beat and blamed for that accident, and wasn’t allowed to watch anything because my focus should be on them. Once, Anthony locked both Malia and Jasmyn in the car with the keys as they were still infants, and I was inside putting on my shoes, my “parents” still taking their time to leave for church. After I tried calming Anthony down from a panic attack and telling James, Anthony was stomped in the chest against a fence, my mom barely getting him off, and I was punched in shoulder and shoved against concrete while you spat that I should have never let it happen. We were left at home that day. 

Once, I was riding in the trunk with the top open, as we got home late, and a shooting happened right in front of me in the street, us kids still in the car in the driveway. You and Mom were in the house because we weren’t allowed out of the car until you said so. You were angry that I didn’t do more to protect my siblings, that I confided in my teacher what happened, and that I woke you up when police came banging on the door at 2am. I was 11. And I had nightmares for months.

Once, you threw Anthony against the washer and beat him in front of your two extended family members at Christmas because he took too long to take out the garbage. Then, your family decided to praise you for it and talk about it, as if it wasn’t brutal and my mom didn’t have to pull you off of him.

Things got better in their own way after my youngest brother was born. I was 12, almost 13, at the time. You magically stopped. I still don’t know what changed to make you stop.

But I still wasn’t your kid.

You started to refer to me and Anthony as “boy”, and nothing else. You made sure to tell us and show us that we were separated from our siblings. You would probably say that we had to earn our keep or that we learned some lesson, but that’s not the truth. You have other kids that are much older than us, and you never contact them or tried to do right by them. I think when my mom told me that years ago, I should have realized sooner the type of man you are.

Part 1 -- Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

*Trigger Warnings: Descriptions of physical abuse, mental abuse, emotional abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, child neglect, threats, anxiety, panic attacks, violence towards children.* Monday, June 19th, 2023 Part 3 6:32pm

When I went to the high school 5 minutes away from our house, I was in the Honors Academy and still in the Band program. I was busy, with afterschool rehearsals and homework that I couldn’t easily breeze through. It threw a wrench in how the household functioned because you relied on me to pick up your slack as a parent and to take the pressure off my mother. You asked my mother to make me quit the Band program, and when I refused, you made me pay for everything myself and forced me to find a ride home every practice or show. 2 months later, you asked my mom to take me out of the Honors Academy because you thought it was “too difficult because it took so much time”, to which we both refused. But, if it was a sport, would you have reacted the same? I doubt it, considering that you jumped at the fact that Anthony started playing basketball. You blatantly tried to sabotage my high school career and life to take advantage of me. Not to mention, you didn’t graduate high school and you don’t have a GED because you went to jail instead, so why would you try to disturb how well I was doing; the top 5 of my class and the first chair of my section, when you should know what you missed and sacrificed?

By that time, the girls were in elementary school, the same one my mom works at, and now I do too. You made it a personal responsibility to show up for every parent event that they asked you to, and you bragged about how you were making time for it, or how much money you spent taking them out to eat before going. Way to go! I hope you are so proud that you make your kids feel like a burden with how much you speak like that. ALSO, how you rubbed it in my and Anthony’s faces because every time we invited you to “Doughnuts with Dad”, you refused and said it was a waste of time.

I wasn’t allowed to hang out with my friends because it took me away from my responsibilities at home and because my friends were girls. I was bullied because my closet was made of glass, I didn’t know how to connect with my male peers, and I was one of 3 black kids in my grade in the Honors Academy. Neither you or my mom were checking in on me or my grades or how I was doing in high school. You never taught me how to make friends, didn’t warn me of discrimination in a conservative, racist area, and didn’t teach me that there was nothing wrong with me for being me. But, that’s because you didn’t make me feel safe at home and made me feel like I was crazy for thinking that our home wasn’t right. You took and manipulated my mother right in front of me for years, until I realized there was no point in hoping or wishing for a support system. Yet, when we’re out in public, we’re one large, happy family with an amazing life, but behind closed doors, we all shiver with anxiety under the wrath of the king with no visible throne. Things couldn’t be more twisted.

Every day, you walk in the door and immediately call out everything that was wrong. This shoe is out of place, the washer is being used, there’s a tissue box on “your” counter, when everyone, except you, has allergies. Or, did you forget after all this time of your wife needing weekly shots, and all of us kids needing to take medicine every morning and night? 

You consistently pride yourself on being an “observational” person. You’re not “confrontational”, so you “sit back and take note of what’s going on around you”. I think you mean to say that you look for all the problems that bother you, and when you explode about this thing or that we need to clean up “this mess”, you excuse yourself from having to get involved and parent your kids by saying you’re not “confrontational”. 

We are a 7-person household, where all of us kids sleep in what is supposed to be the living room, and you have one of the bedrooms monopolized as your “workout room” that you don’t even use. We don’t have the space to have a properly organized and clean look. You disregard functionality for presentation, and as soon as you hear the context of the situation after we repeat it for 8th time, you deflect and say to just throw it away. But, you’ve been promising that we would get a new house since I was 10. I’m 20 now, and look, same house AND same behavior!

Daily, you find something that frustrates you and instill fear in everyone. You have such a superiority/inferiority complex with your family and the public that it leaves you with such a scary pattern of irrational violence. You never take the time to teach your kids the same standards or lessons that Anthony and I were expected to meet, and then, you throw a tantrum when they don’t do things the way you want them to. You’re an adult and a parent, we’re kids. We don’t understand how to establish a routine of cleanliness and organization isn’t a talent, it’s a skill. But, you’re so observational, yet you haven’t realized or noticed that the problem isn’t us, it’s you. Because you have such high expectations and such extreme outbursts, but you don’t raise your children to understand and teach them how to meet them and avoid what you call a “consequence”.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 4 Part 5

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of emotional and verbal abuse, su*c*d*l thoughts, self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety, and depression.*

Monday, Nov. 7th, 2022

4:37pm

Dear Me,

I’m struggling so much to control my anxiety and stress since my birthday 2 days ago. Deadass, I am so confused to the point where I don’t know where to begin, but I know that I am feeling so depressed and tired and empty and numb and exhausted. Gem’s extreme levels of vulnerability and the amount of breakdowns she has, is triggering and makes me upset for her, but also myself, because I don’t know what to do with myself and I feel out of place. 

Then with Angel, the way she speaks to me just gets to me. It comes off as if she is SO upset with me each time, or is looking for something to berate me over. It’s as though she’s projecting her frustrations onto me, but then, painting it over by saying that she is trying to have an honest conversation or teaching/advising me. It makes me so anxious and sick to my stomach when she talks to me because it’s like she’s going to be aggressive or “attack me” every single time. 

There’s no question of how I’m doing, or a thought of what I’m going through. She just wants to release whatever she wants to without any pushback. She’s controlling the situation to her own benefit without any regard. It’s like she forgets that I’m fighting my hardest to stay alive afloat, and only telling me what’s wrong with me(?).  It reminds me of our dad and how he used to talk to me and how I used to feel. She’s trying to “help” me “learn” by “advising” me to do certain things. But, it’s all a nice way of saying that she’s controlling me. But, some things are true and things that I truly need to work on, yet the consistent way that she delivers them is so awful. I just feel helpless.

Part 2

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, mental abuse, parental abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation, PTSD symptoms, anger, and anxiety.*

Saturday, Feb. 11th, 2023

9:55pm

Today has been so difficult. Well, really just the past few hours, but still. My family and I went to the store for shopping and groceries. I had an amazing haul of clothes from Wal-Mart (it was so good!!!), but it was filled with anxiety and self-doubt. It took me a really long time to calm myself down from that, which I am really beating myself up over. However, the main thing that has me upset is after we got home, where my younger siblings and I had to rearrange the room for our other brother, Anthony, to come back home.

My sisters needed to clean out from under their beds in order for me to move them to make space for Anthony’s bed. It took them literally 2 hours to do it, and it was not only frustrating, but unnecessary. I was put in charge of “managing this project”, and they made the process take so much longer than it had to (4 HOURS!!!). Plus, James (my step-father) had to keep receiving “updates” or involving himself every 30 minutes, which made it even more difficult. The girls just kept making excuses, getting distracted, or asking me redundant questions, and I was running out of patience. It takes so much energy to deal with them, and it just has to be my responsibility to micro-manage them.

My problem is that I am constantly the fall-back for James, and my mom supports it. Not only did I have to “run this project”, but James had the audacity to say that he’s “giving” me the responsibility of supervising the kids regularly clean the room. I have raised those kids in his stead. He hasn’t been a parent to them, he’s rather paying child support and free-loading around the house than actually stepping up. He stays in his room, keeps to himself, and uses us as free labor.

I’m not their parent! I shouldn’t have to look after them the way that I do. I am consistently present with them, checking on them, teaching them, helping them, feeding them, and he does none of that. It’s not fair to me, and I can’t even draw a boundary to separate myself from it. I get sucked back into parenting them to where I literally can’t make time or space for myself. 

There’s a reason that I don’t come home that often. This household and this family is a trap.

James and I were talking the other day, about a couple of things. He repeatedly said that he’s an “observer” and “picks up on the things he sees”. It’s so full of shit. He asked me why I never come home and why I’ve been gone for so long (3 years for college), and I had to scramble for a half-truth to save my skin and give him such a vague answer. That it’s because growing up here in this area was rough. He’s so perceptive, but can’t see that the problem stems from HIM. His abuse and how inactive he is as a father and how he walks around as if he’s a king.

I stayed away to avoid him, and being here now is just as hard as I thought it would be. I hate interacting with him, I’m tired of the anxiety from being around him, and I hate how he treats me. You know, he was like, “I can see that you’re pretty responsible, so I wanted to ask if you want to be back on our car insurance?”. Why do you even feel the need to comment on my responsibility? I’ve been responsible for years and it’s not a show for your approval, and has absolutely nothing to do with you. It’s patronizing and belittling. I’m an adult now, I want to be treated like one, and I’m going to treat myself with responsibility. Yes, I’m back living at home, but I’m clearly pulling my own weight by buying the groceries for the whole household each week. And, so much more. So much more!

I’m not your solution to your issues of being a neglectful, abusive parent. I’m not an in-home nanny, a maid, or a butler that caters to your every request. It’s not my responsibility to cover your tracks and then, be a stand-in for you, because you are too tired from work or annoyed or because you want to “watch your football”. Those aren’t my kids, they’re my siblings. And, it’s miserable. I just… can’t take it.

I’m literally draining myself for this family, and I can’t ever have the time or space to myself to recover, because it’s constantly filled with their needs and wants.

I’m exhausted, and I want it to stop. Please.

Economic Freedom Fighters [EFF] in Johannesburg protest Uganda’s anti-homosexuality bill at the Ugandan High Commission in Pretoria.

While right-wing Republican lawmakers in various U.S. states are currently engineering a new wave of anti-LGBTQ legislation, a slate of proselytizing, activist U.S. religious groups have for years campaigned in parts of Africa, especially in countries like Uganda, and sown the seeds for even more hard-line measures there. [WaPo/2023]

colonialism, christian nationalism & US influence

submitting yourself to the mortifying ordeal of getting put into an headlock (hug) and noogie’d by your best friend (love of your life) in order to enjoy the rewards of feeling loved (and arm)

if you can’t get store-bought forehead touches for your finale, homemade will do just fine :-)

*Trigger Warnings: Mentions of abuse, nightmares, neglect, PTSD symptoms, and depressive feelings.*

Saturday, Oct. 22nd, 2022 Part 3

10:30pm

I had a nightmare last night that repeatedly woke me up. I didn’t remember it until I was writing in my other journal. Last night, my Papa told me that my stepdad, James, came with my Mom to California to visit, which in hindsight, I should have realized that sooner. We talked about James being there and how Papa would react to meeting him for the first time, but initially, I was just joking around. It wasn’t until the nightmare that I realized how triggered I truly am by James.

It was about my Papa confronting James about his abusive treatment of my brother and I after getting upset. The situation was really aggressive and resulted in my Mom packing up their things and leaving early, while ending things with Papa.

I find it a little defeating and irritating that James still sets me off after all this time. I don’t think I’ve processed that trauma at all, and it clearly still affects me. I’m still harboring all this hurt and trauma from both him and my Mom. From the moment that man entered our lives, my mother stopped being a mom to me when I needed her to be. I’m disappointed and full of rage towards her and what my childhood was like from that point onward. I really don’t understand why I still talk to her, other than holding out hope.

I want so many things for my mother that I not only grieve my childhood, but also her experience. She is so powerful, resilient, and intelligent, but James stunts all of that. I wish that she felt that she could stand alone, and realize that she does not need him to carry on. I wish that she could have everything that she needs and wants, just not with him.

Now, I also wish that she had those things for my own benefit as well. To have a mother who is not trapped by a narcissistic man. She has only ever fulfilled his wants and desires and prioritized him, while neglecting me. I love my mother to death, but I also resent her. All because of her love life choices. I wish things were different…

I think that I need all the time I can have away from college, so that I can focus on myself and heal. I have so many desires that I want in this world, but it feels like it will never happen. I need the strongest reminder that things are going to be okay, that I will still have a chance, and that things are not over yet. Because I have not suffered through so much for this to be the end. I deserve to be on this journey to heal and I deserve every good thing coming.

Part 1 -- Part 2