Diary (of a young woman with eyelid anomaly)
My therapist told me to start a diary. I was born with a rare eyelid defect, my eyes were pretty much closed, I had multiple surgeries to correct them when I was under 5 years old. My father (who identifies as a woman now) left my life when I was three. I heard stories that he attempted suicide by gas stove in an old house with me in the room. He(she/they) left maybe tens of thousands of letters to me over the years and is still alive. Also, cassette tapes. One was titled (my first name) and me(biological father) and was a recording of me learning to speak. But his communication on the cassette tape was rather dark. On the cassette tape, I am babbling, probably around a year old or a little older. Throughout the whole tape, he is saying extremely depressing things, almost indoctrination of me learning to speak negatively... (I discovered these tapes when I was 14 or 15, just relistened to them at 23). He says, and I quote that he doesn’t know who he is anymore, and he doesn’t want to be alive, how he’s never been clean, et cetera. His parents (my paternal grandparents) I cannot tell if they wanted to be in my life, or did not care about me because of my mother’s Jewish ancestry... or me being born with weird eyes... or if they were disowning my (father)?. Growing up was pretty lonely, first great grandchild, first grandchild, did not have cousins until I was older. Children at school and even teachers neglected me to a certain level because of the way my eyelids looked, plus I had to leave school a lot. This is all I want to talk about for now. I am 23 almost 24, I have no idea what kind of job I could have (still) because of my eyelid malformation. *making sure that you know I am an ally for LGBTQ+, not condoning my family, or anti-Semitic in any way. But I have suffered almost daily harassment and discrimination for my background, for a long time now. Recently I am more happy to be alive, love meditating, trying to get fit, love my kitten, got vaccinated fully April 21st. Thanks for listening
@Stellium
It's lovely to know that even through all of this you're living well and happy with your life ❤️ Sending love, keep going! Know that we're listening and we're here for you, friend ❤️
My mother and my father divorced officially by the time I was three years old. From then onto about 17 or 18 I lived in my small town, very horrible place... animal testing facility within a mile of the consolidated high school. People I am assuming that grew around me thought they knew me.. may have thought my mother’s father was also my father. My mother’s father is a Vietnam war veteran, and her mother was adopted into a family of great wealth (comparable to how they made us live). My aunt and uncle gave me marijuana and alcohol when I was around 13, and I remember afterwards being not the same person. Once my mother found out, she told the cult and they put me on certain “vitamins” and “medication”. We always took vitamins and medication. My second near death experience I can remember, as a child under my biological family’s care; my grandmother would give me her Vicodin and a drink with alcohol to sleep around six or seven. To sleep. I was being molested by my grandfather from age 5 to at least age 9. Living on the commune, they would regularly abuse opiates as much as they did their animals. Dogs and horses. My mother had her masters degree in social work, received a job helping disabled children and their families ages 0-7; was fired within a year for advocating animal abuse to a child with autism. The paperwork reads, she had told a child that it was okay to hit their dog. I remember my mother losing her job at the time, I was in fifth or sixth grade. She was unhappy there and I didn’t quite fully understand what “forced to resign” meant. Ah, I am all over the place tonight. Basically, the marijuana mixed with whatever they were giving me and the alcohol caused me mental illness problems. I was depressed. I could no longer stand up to people who gave me dirty looks, or harassed me, or abused me; and this displayed as anger issues to my step father who doesn’t remember a thing being an alcoholic and a marijuana user... I mainly remember holding in my anger and depression for prolonged periods of time. I don’t know if these are just ways they tried to punish me for coming out about the abuse, as anyone in my particular situation could have reacted differently. Combined with growing up with social media where, dangerous people told me untrue things, and to hurt myself. I do not think I was the only person to suffer from that kind of abuse online, on top of everything and being treated as like I was not human, and the rituals, and the medications, and the isolating from people outside of the cult.
Because of being involved with the cult, I suffered greatly. I cannot count how many times I nearly lost my life and did not receive medical attention as a minor, from things that were not my choice. Being beaten by other teenagers, almost being hit by cars. The worst part of it is how little food we could eat. And have.
The worst thing about trying to escape the cult is being forced to come back. ——— My father is not my grandfather, yet my mother’s family did not let me have contact with my father’s family. —- There were extremely low levels of food we were allowed to eat. Anorexia nervousa was projected onto me by my grandmother (mother’s mom). She would call me a Neanderthal, and force me to eat dog food. My mother’s father told me at age five how my eyes reminded him of the “whores” he had sex with at war over seas. In my adult mind I do not believe they were whores or even that it was their consensual choice.
For those reading, I have epicanthic inversus
Oh, I thought this was going to be about the Way International? Yeah so my therapist told me to write about the cult, which I cannot really say I am safe from to this day
When I was 19, I fled homeless not allowed my savings or possessions. I nearly died for starvation, I was 86 lbs when I weighed myself in October2016. I estimated to have gone around 56~ days without food, not having resources to any programs, and being afraid of political tensions at the time, I had spent around seventy five dollars I had from working as a pet sitter/dog walker and spent it mostly on coffee, in excuse to have WiFi and water and a coffee shop
... so, me, 5’10” at 19 years old, I weighed less than my five year old cousin does now, who is tall but a healthy weight. I have been in places with people tattooed numbers on their arms. I have been in places with refugees with leprosy and people who had not been yet granted citizenship, by the time I was 21, I had nearly starved to death again in a blizzard in 2019. I remember being naked in my sleeping bag, unable to sleep because of how hungry I was, seeing a light in the back of my head. It’s painful to describe the suffering when someone goes so hungry. I was in a rural area, so I contacted police to call an ambulance and examine how starved I was. . . I really do think that they could have driven me 15 minutes to the nearest city to a shelter, but they said I looked like a healthy weight. The EMTs and police officers were all noticeably around 24-28 BMI.
My cat looks pissed right now. I haven’t slept all night really. I don’t want to eat. I feel like I’ve been dead for a long time now. I do not believe in abortion.. no.. I have never had one, never been pregnant nor would I ever consent to organ donation... I know they would fail quickly. I think the most realistic goal for me would be to relocate to a state in the country with assisted death/ euthanasia laws (Death with dignity), as no one should have to prolong such suffering... I have been dead for a long time now. I am just awake for some time now . I try to find a place in society.. but I just remember the things that I have endured and have seen and I have not experienced livelihood for a great time now...
