I hated what the Upper Peninsula of Michigan represented as a kid. Many people from outside of that area looked at it as … well, undeveloped and people were hicks. Drink beer, go to jail, sing stupid songs, go to deer camp, and lose MANY MANY IQ points in the process. I didn’t feel like that. Matter of fact, because I was surrounded by other people of Finnish American descent, I didn’t really see some of those aspects until long after I’d left. Mostly, I felt a strong sense of unease and loneliness. My mom connected my universe to other people. My Uncle Lenny and Aunt Teresa (plus kids), Uncle George and Aunt Ann (plus kids), Aunt Susie and Uncle John (plus kids) and our church community. I was safe during the time my mom was around. Despite the depression, I was still acting “normal” mostly. I was in my head a lot, but I was mostly normal. I had learning disability issues, but my mom took care of that. To this day, I still don’t know what allergic reaction I have when taking Phenobarbitol and Sulfa drugs. My mom was the only one that knew. I later asked my Dad. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t know.

I’ve discussed this before, but I’m going to go back into it a bit. I had two near misses with people that could have directed my life very differently. A Dentist I saw as a kid (young. Maybe I was 7 or 8?? Not exactly sure on the age.). I wanted to go into the dentist office by myself. To be a big kid. Those days, dental assistants weren’t in the room as a requirement for safety. It was just you and the dentist. While you might look at my mouth and say… oof, you had dental problems. That, my dear, didn’t happen until after I was 18 years old. I was going in for my traditional exam, probably a cleaning. I can’t imagine that anything more than that was happening. IF I had been aware of anything more, I never would have been allowed to go in to the office with him alone. As I sat on the Dentist chair, the dentist came towards me with a plastic mask. Not to be confused with a mouth cover to protect from germs. This was like a mask that you’d put on to get some kind of anesthesia. As I saw him walking towards me and trying to put it on my face, I began to scream for my mom. Over and over. I believe the walls were pretty sound proof. My mom didn’t come to my rescue. She would have if she’d heard me. I know she would have. However, as I kept screaming – the dentist yelled at me to shut up. My story about this situation hasn’t changed over the years. Not once. I’m sure you can go back and look at my journal entries. My Mom and Dad switched dentists after that. I would never go back to him again. I’m grateful for that. I just wish that my parents would have contacted the police. Despite what happened… no dental work was completed. I got away before… whatever he happened to have in mind for me… was done. I was lucky. I wish that my parents would have called to have him investigated. To have it on his complaints from patients. So MAYBE.. (doubtful) people would know he wasn’t a great practitioner. Keep your kids away. The police weren’t called. No police talked to me.

The other event was probably around 85 or 86′. I was riding my bike. I was getting near to our house. As I was riding on the very far side of the road near my house… a car came up to the side of me, slowly. I didn’t notice it, really until I saw the back seat passenger window roll down (automatic window) and an arm grabbed at my bike. I never saw a face of whoever was trying to grab at the bike handle. I just tried to get away. And I did. I rode my bike as fast as this little fat girl could and threw my bike down on the ground by our front door. I ran into the house and if my memory serves, my mom and dad were in the living room together. I screamed at them that someone tried to grab my bike while I was riding it near the house. I was frantic! No police came to take my statement. I never got to describe the car or what happened. No statements were released to the public (that I’m aware of) that children should be careful while by themselves – unattended.

Back in those days, kids were notoriously allowed to be outside until the street lights lit up. And we took every advantage of that. That left anyone who was criminally inclined, to use every street as their playground. Again, I’ve racked my brain over what “could have” happened. Again, I don’t recall exact details like exact date or year. Since the event wasn’t reported, there is no way to go back in time and ask for a police report. I watch true crime series. I can’t really watch the ones where children are abducted. Particularly in those years, like my own incident. Would I have been abducted, raped, and killed? That would never exactly come to pass. My rapes wouldn’t happen until I was 16 years old. And despite it all, I am grateful that whomever was acting unceremoniously criminal that day – they weren’t successful. Unless all they wanted was to scare a little fat kid on a bike. Then, in that case, they were.

I didn’t exactly feel safe. After my sister Dianne died, it left a hole in my heart. And certainly one in my mom’s heart. No matter what, my mom loved Dianne. That was her first child. And she was taken from us so soon in her life. And thereafter, her first grandchild was taken out of the country, and out of our ability to visit. It was a dreadful time. My mom began seeing a therapist by the name of Karyn (sp?). I hated her. My mom spent time in and out of her office together. I kind of wonder if my mom was hedging in feeling discomfort in her own faith. To spend time with someone – purposely that was not in the Independent Apostolic Lutheran faith on personal time? That was relatively unheard of in my family. You maintained personal relationships with church people. That was the way it always maintained. Frank and Judy, Marty, my uncles and aunt, grandparents, Lenore and Joe, and Barb would all come over and visit with my parents. And the idea that my mom allowed me to date a boy outside of our church kind of led me to feel as though maybe she didn’t want me to marry within the faith. This could be reaching. Eventually, my mom’s therapist had to tell my mom (by letter) that it was not ethical for them to spend personal time together. I’m guessing she was not able to see my mom as a client either. Marty told my mom a year after Dianne died, that she shouldn’t be grieving anymore. My mom confided in me that this conversation happened. I did not hear it first hand. Now that I think about it, I believe maybe Marty and Dan had lost a child. So maybe she did know something about grief. However, it’s not right to impose your experiences and attitudes on someone else. Telling them that inherently, you’re doing it wrong and you need to pull your big girl pants up. Get over it! I was angry at Marty. And the fact that I had to see her at my house after my mom was removed from our home (post coma, pre nursing home) to tell me that my mom had been moved back to the hospital. She had come down with a bad case of pneumonia. I didn’t want to hear anything from Marty. She made my mom mad and sad. And I just resented her for that.

I had very little of a relationship with my Dad. He and I were just very different people on so many levels. I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to be close to someone. Tim and Karin were either in Minnesota or Illinois by this time. Brian and Meredith were, possibly still in Michigan – but living their own lives. I felt isolated. Living in a small town where many people know what’s going on in your life. They all talk. They all know. And they judge. Maybe not all, but many. I saw the differences in the people at church with people of different income/earning levels. The Alongo family vs the Himes family. Very different. One was a doctor. The other was a single mom living in low income housing with three kids. I saw that in my community, there were little (if any) people of other races. I wanted to meet people of color. I wanted to hear their stories. I wanted to learn about what it was like to be them. After all, I was really tired of myself. Depression loomed hard.

My best friend Denise moved to Oconto Wisconsin. This was at a time where long distance companies charged $.10 a minute. And less during certain hours/days. I used to call Denise every day after school. I would talk to her for hours. I didn’t understand anything about money. I just knew that my Dad had money. He had a great job and could pay the phone bill. Lesley and I were still close, but things were getting different now that we were dating people and moving in different directions. I needed someone to ground me. I sat in my room in misery. Before and after our house fire. Tim would bring me things sometimes. I think what I needed more was a relationship. Not physical objects. There is no replacement for being able to sit down for a day or two and communicating. Even if I had to get irritated by his cud chewing like eating style I loathed so much. Brian was Brian. And I knew we weren’t exactly going to be close. When we got the new house, my room became a notebook (on the walls). My friends (anyone who came in) would use a marker and write on the wall. The writings on the wall would remind me of the people that cared about me. It was something to keep me company. Reminding me that people cared about me. I knew my Dad and my other family members hated it. I just didn’t care. My room, my rules.

I started drinking, becoming promiscuous. I even smoked pot a few times. I began this relationship with Junior. In good times, he made me feel as though I was important. Anyone who is abusive will always generally start out on a good note. That is, until they isolate you. Then once isolation is complete… the process of knocking you down mentally until you are theirs. And you can’t run. You can’t hide. He hit me so many times. He hurt me so many times. He put alcohol in drinks that I had no idea were spiked. He wouldn’t let me take my antidepressants because a doctor once told him that antidepressants acted as birth control. And he wanted me to get pregnant as a further stranglehold on me. I was very grateful to have not gotten pregnant by him. I did things that I wasn’t proud of. I was blamed for calling 911 when it was his sister and I got blamed for it. At the time he tried to take it out on me, I was at my house. I locked myself in the bathroom upstairs because I was afraid he was going to hit me. Instead, he punched the bathroom door and created a hole in it. The door never got fixed until the house was sold to a non family member. So it was always a reminder of where I had been.

Prior to dating Junior, I had issues with my memory. I still have issues with my memory. I believe PTSD and consistent trauma over many many years helped with that. I was raped twice by one man named Jim. I was raped numerous times by Junior. Then Rich came into my life. And at that time I did get pregnant. When Ashleigh came into the world, Rich eventually left and I filed for a divorce. I had already met Eric. I was so confused about relationships and how they cycle. I ended up having sex with a coworker. I believe Rich poked a hole in one of our condoms and I got pregnant with Darrian. Eric wasn’t pleased, but he stuck around through the pregnancy. From the moment she was born, Eric fell in love. As did Eric’s parents. Since her biological father wasn’t in the picture, Eric was Dad. And he loved it. We had tried to get pregnant, but it never seemed to work. I’m not sure why… it just didn’t. So it was Eric’s opportunity to feel like he had his own child. Even if it really wasn’t. He just naturally took that place. And it was great. As Ashleigh got older, things got more complicated. Rich had allegations of child abuse on his daughter in Michigan. He didn’t see her after she was three years old. He moved to California. And I couldn’t have possibly been any happier for it. He was a long way away from having any control. And I had hoped against hope that nurture would override nature. I would be found to be wrong. No I matter how much I just wanted Ashleigh and Darrian to both be okay, so much was out of my control. We were impoverished. Eric would stay home to watch both the girls while i was at work, at school, or whatever. After I realized I was pregnant with Darrian, I realized how much I loved Eric. And how it was a mistake for me to find other partners to create this sense of excitement in a new relationship. I was so unstable after so many years of feeling excluded, shunned, and traumatized. Everyone that I loved and wanted to be in my life just… disappeared. I’d email or call my Dad often with hopes there would be a new update on Mom. That she had gotten better. Alas, she had not. I imagine that my Dad became sad… every time I called to inquire about Mom. He’d have to break the news to me. And every time I found out that nothing had changed, I felt like I lost her again. I wasn’t remembering her voice anymore. Her laugh. Or specific times that we spent together. I remember loathing Oprah. My mom would commit to watching Oprah at 4 pm EST every week day. And I was left to my own devices. I did remember that my mom was proud of me for getting into the UPYC. That she loved the song dedicated to the soldiers in the Gulf War called “Voices that Care”. In high school, I had to stifle back tears as we sung it for a school choir concert. My mom also loved the Bryan Adams song “Everything I Do, I Do it for You.”

I struggled with my relationship with Eric for years. And I struggled being able to be connected with anyone else. Feeling insecure. Feeling like an imposter and still being very very depressed. I wanted Ashleigh and Darrian to have the mother that I didn’t get to have after a certain period in my life. I wanted them to see that I was trying – knowing that there were so few people that actually were involved in me raising my kids. Ashleigh made our lives feel like we were hostages in our own apartment. The landlord could have evicted us for being “nuisance tenants” at any point. And she would have had a right to. The police were being called – generally once a week sometimes. I had to deal with social workers, psych units, family therapists, psychiatrists, my own therapist, etc… and that was after Ashleigh tried calling CPS on US! CPS quickly realized that Ashleigh was the problem and everything changed. I was told that I abandoned Ashleigh on mothers day because I turned my cell phone off. I needed quiet. Even though Ashleigh was in shelter care – I just needed to be at peace. I was judged by her foster mother for not being able to afford a new tire when our Jeep had to use the donut until we could get that sorted. I had little contact with anyone in the outside world, aside from work and my in laws. I didn’t feel comfortable with anyone. I still felt like Eric was using me for what I could offer him. And I still felt like he was coming up short. He was having all these medical problems and our doctor at the time didn’t see any validity to it.

I was lucky enough to be on disability at the time that Darrian died. I know that there is no way I could have worked after she died. Eric was afraid that I was going to die of a broken heart. I had already died once in 2011, but was able to be revived. I just couldn’t go on well.

It’s taken a long time to feel a sense of peace. I’ve gotten yelled at by a family member for how I discussed the gene mutation and my social world at the time when I was growing up. It’s taken a long time for me to realize, but this person did not grow up in my shoes. He was an adult by that point. His growing up, despite the issues he had… were not the same as my own. And while I’m sure he had the best of intentions, he denied my reality. And that hurt. He made me question myself. I felt that I was indoctrinated into a faith that I didn’t like or feel comfortable with. And this was long before I heard anyone doing podcasts about their own difficulties in high control groups or cults. Once I started hearing others stories, I felt brave enough to say… this is what I experienced. And … that didn’t work out well for me. I was told that if I wanted more to do with people, I should reach out. That when you leave the church, I would have nothing in common with those people anymore that still attend. Granted, we’re family… but apparently genes are only medically sound as long as you attend the same brick and mortar facility as the others. It’s like phones that can share information from one another… cloning? Is that the right word? I’m not tech savvy in terminology.

While the Independent Apostolic Lutheran Church does not operate as a cult. You are told to not involve yourself with unbelievers. Do not gamble, do not dance, or play card games. Make sure that faith is first, then the rest after that. The churches generally are in locations that are far away from other secular life forms. If people misbehave, they are shunned or judged. There really isn’t discussion about the fact that shunning happens. It happens when the group finds it appropriate. I tried to continue to practice the faith, even after I thought I would have removed myself from it. I still had friends in it and I loved them. And since I lived with my father… I felt a sense of responsibility to pretend. Even when I knew that when I got there to church, I would feel alone and miserable. It doesn’t make sense to me that anyone would ask you to lie about who you are, inherently. That you are just supposed to drink the kool aide and eat the pot luck foods that the ladies in the kitchen set out for you. That men will be the only ones delivering the sermons. Women will never have a position higher than mothers or kitchen workers. I hated that. Sexist ideals. Having a specific greeting that most people on the outside wouldn’t understand. And having your own thoughts outside of the faith was not wise. If you left, Jesus would not follow you where you went. You walked alone. If you’re of a different sexual identity, forget it. Homosexuality is a sin. Regardless of the fact that the bible was written by people that were allegedly with Jesus or knew of him. Or God. There may be historical records that can back up books, but still. Our laws have changed over time. Our social world has changed. Many many things have changed. Jesus birthday wasn’t on December 25th. It was changed to that date to coincide with other faiths. Look it up. And, my favorite thing to say… when did Jesus walk on water to speak in Finland. Did Jesus talk to Lars Laestadius? Was that really a thing? Or was Laestadianism just created under a guise of religion, but a fever dream of being an important person. After all, Joseph Smith was a criminal. Yet he is the foundation for Mormonism. Him and his “golden tablets”

Sexual identity is nothing to be ashamed of. I considered that maybe I was bisexual at one time. Honestly though, I don’t feel like I could ever have sex with a woman. It just doesn’t appeal to me. Women can be attractive… but that’s all she wrote. People use statements out of the bible to serve their agenda. The New Testament is filled with nuggets that tell us not to be judgmental. Those free of sin to cast the first stone. I don’t know anyone that is free of sin, yet they judge. And if your life line does not take you down the exact trail of someone else… you have no right to justify that someone is doing wrong. Unless it’s immoral or illegal.

I am a fucking good person. Yet, my beliefs are different from many of my family. I am not the only person that could formulate a relationship with them. It’s a two way street. Based off my experiences though, I don’t feel safe to relate to them. I don’t feel safe to explore relationships between them. The different between believers and unbelievers makes a huge difference. Darrian will be in Heaven, despite her sins because she died a child. Many heathen children will be in Heaven because… they just didn’t know better. Me? I don’t exactly know that Heaven or Hell exist. I think it’s a way for mortal man to control you. Like adults tell kids that Santa Clause is watching you. You better be good, or no presents. Same way with adults and Heaven and Hell.

I have lived a life of consistent trauma. Yet last night, I think I felt the safest I’ve felt in a long time. I laid in bed with Eric. Just laid there. He held me in his arms. And that was it. As my heart started to slow after the initial grasp, I let my guard down and just was in the moment. Being loved, being held, being appreciated. Not talking, not going forward into anything… just us, together. Knowing that he has me and I have him. I don’t think I could have been any happier or felt more loved. Sex is… meh. I know this now. When you know that you are truly safe with someone… there is no better aphrodisiac than that.