Today’s gratitude practice is to feel grateful for myself. That is difficult, because I cannot remember the last time anyone expressed gratitude for me—certainly not this year. Yet I am expected to show gratitude to others, even those who treat me badly.
Tonight, once again, I was told to "go away" because a man and his college friends demanded it. One woman fabricated a lie that I sent her a nasty message. In reality, she and her friends have sent me multiple nasty messages over the years. I will be honest: sometimes, you have to get down in the mud with the swine. I am beyond tired of this group of women wasting my time with their high school melodrama, trying to force me to leave. As I write this, I wonder if a man I considered a good friend was ever my friend at all. I wonder why he spent so much time with me if he truly thought I was a loser.
Reflecting on my administrative fellowship, I spent time with healthcare executives as part of my job. They mentored me for two reasons: they felt it was their duty, and I believe they genuinely liked me. After that, I had a difficult time finding work. I blamed them, wondering who else could be doing this to me. It was a group of college peers who disliked me and did not want to see me succeed. They tried to force the passive role from the Parable of the Talents onto me, and they still do. Instead of accepting that I am a multiplier, they insist I have done nothing with my gifts. In reality, they are deeply insecure people, terrified of someone who overcomes the odds, and they cannot handle that I have accomplished everything they have, and more. If I do not perform saintly, godly behavior—which they falsely assume they possess—I am chastised and abused. The lies told about me are so numerous I do not know where to begin.
Two weeks ago, an acquaintance—not a friend—wanted to spend time with me. This is a pattern: people who view me as "less than" invite me out only to diminish me, acting as if they are instructing me on how to behave. This woman regularly criticizes me the moment I turn my back. I told her about calling a woman names after enduring her repeated mental abuse and exploitation.
On one occasion, this woman invited me boating. She did not know how to start or dock the boat, so I had to do it alone while she drove her car around the parking lot. Some kind men helped me, wondering why I was doing this by myself. Afterward, she demanded I clean the boat. As we left, she noticed the windshield latch was open. She stopped on the edge of a steep cliff at Lucky Peak and demanded I climb into the back of the boat to fix it; a strong wind could have cost me my life. In her mind, she did no wrong. She told me it was my fault, and that every time I am around, bad things happen.
I relayed this story to my lunch partner—a woman who has also insulted me behind my back. She told me that God would not approve of me calling people names, suggesting it was "karma" that I was being abused. She used a convoluted, misunderstood spiritual balance to justify the abuse.
I am thinking about this today because I was told to "go away" again. I stood up to a lie told by educational administrators who claimed not to know another administrator—a man who had been an outstanding basketball coach. The man telling me to leave was angry because I posted that I am not naive; I knew they were acquainted. I have always questioned their fixation on me—someone they label a "nobody loser." Why are they so obsessed with mentally abusing me? Because the women they associate with are threatened by me, and they use their collective bullying to maintain a status quo that I do not fit into.
It is difficult to accept that perhaps none of them are my friends. I am treated like the villain in every story. Why am I targeted? Tonight, this man falsely accused me of sending a nasty message to a woman I have had blocked for seven years. This man repeatedly yelled at me, claiming he did not want me here. He was helping my sister and these women harass me.
Their motive is to make me go away because they find security in uniformity and feel threatened by anyone who disrupts their small, controlled world. Every time I am abused, I leave. That is why I have lived in 7 states and 18 cities. I have lived a lifetime where abusing me is a game, and the goal is to make me disappear. I have only had one place where people seemed to care if I left or not. Even in my new apartment, a woman who claims to be a friend mocks my complaints. She is an abusive bully who needs me to be "less than" her to feel better about herself. It is a constant game of tearing me down, filled with hypocrisy and lies, leaving me to struggle and start my life over. This man tonight told me I should be homeless. They are so cruel that they believe I do not deserve shelter or love. They weaponize a basic human right against me because they are terrified of someone who refuses to be broken.
In the past, I turned the other cheek and ran. I have moved at least 41 times. In my last home, I fought their incessant abuse for stability. Every time I defy their wishes, they attempt to make me leave, following the instructions my family gave them. It is horrible to realize that the smallest slight results in being labeled a "bad person" while I am the one being mistreated.
I feel I have no choice but to get down in the mud with the swine. But why should I fight people who care less about me than my basic human needs? They view me as someone to pretend to care about while they abuse me into submission. Yet, I will not submit.
I sit here thinking about how hateful men pretended to care about me only to help someone else treat me badly, dictating how I should act to satisfy women who are far worse than they accuse me of being. If your religion is to abuse others into perfection or force them away, you are far from godly. I struggled with these people in college because they used their religion to judge and hate.
I am not perfect, but I am not a bad person. I realized, after watching Elle, that it is about power, control, and making me feel I belong nowhere. They manipulate the Parable of the Talents to falsely claim I did nothing with my gifts, when the opposite is true: I did more with my gifts than I should have. They are frightened by an overcomer who refuses to dim her light to make them comfortable.
It is interesting that this intensifies whenever I release a book. When I wrote Cow in the City, I was told it was not a bestseller like my classmate’s book. My poetry books were incessantly harassed by a man and his friends to the point where he pretended to be romantically interested in me to "teach me a lesson." Instead of accountability, they blame me. They have even compared me to the Joker.
I find this appalling. In Elle, the character was made to feel so uncomfortable that she left, which has been my life experience. I am only allowed to be around if I perform to their standards; otherwise, I am forced to be alone or subjected to people who "teach me a lesson." I do not have the option of moving back home because no one in Kansas City cared for me. It was nothing but cruelty.
Here in Idaho, it is more of the same. A place where I am bullied until I concede to being the "loser" they need me to be, just to justify their treatment. Perhaps the school administrator I thought was my friend was just a bully, pretending to be a friend so I would move away, only to be cruel to me again in a new location.
The truth is, I have been miserable in Idaho. It has been a nightmare. I had to live in a hotel, an experience that has made me vow never to trust anyone again. They are angry whenever I speak out. Women invent lies—claiming I could never have taught nursing courses, even though I did. People use their church as an excuse to abuse me.
One day last year, walking on the Greenbelt, I wondered if I should just give up. I thought about disappearing. Then I looked at my dog—my only friend—and kept going until I had nothing left. I am so tired of this abuse. I never was good at high school politics, and no one has had my back. In college, I was bullied until I moved 1,000 miles away.
In Elle, she moved back to the school and stayed. But why stay where I am treated like dirt? Why not move away for the 42nd time, to the 8th state and 19th city, and have someone make me leave again because I posted something on Facebook they disliked? It seems wrong that others can do things I cannot. I am tired, but I do not know what to do.
Right now, I am supposed to be grateful for myself.
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