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Fight, flight, freeze. It all sucks, and I have all of these responses at times. For women fawning is a big problem too. I hate it. I don’t always see it happening, but sometimes I know full well it’s happening and I can’t stop it from happening. So many men have come to my home to harm me and harass me over the past few years. When men are working one the street in front of my house I fall into this. ‘Please don’t be dangerous‘

It was a normal state at some of the more toxic jobs I’ve had. Talking normally gets some men upset. Trying to set boundaries and standing up for myself definitely upsets most men, especially employers. My nervous system falls back to fawning. It’s desperation and fear of the abuse.

Brio was the worst. Those men were extremely misogynistic. Just talking normally was an insult to them. I got more and more filled with fear of just going to work. So I’d be in a state of high anxiety at work- always.

Of course, these men were the worst type of men. They’d make work stressful and exhausting. Then stand around laughing about employees. Looking directly at employees and laughing. Sick, disgusting, entitled management.

I had to get through every shift somehow. I worked harder than most people there and was reprimanded if I wasn’t always overwhelmed. Their favorite employees could stand around and chat with them and each other.

It was bad. It was overwhelmingly exhausting. I’d fall asleep taking my daughters to lessons. I had a hard time being awake long enough for them for anything because those awful, entitled, misogynistic, bullies made work unbearable.

Yet. My fear and anxiety dictated my responses. Survival

Survival so I could support my daughters.

So much of my life and possibilities have been lost because of people like that. I didn’t have choices though.

I had my first daughter at 20. Every minute of my life until they went to college was dedicated to them.

Every thought, every action, every day, every dollar, every bit of me and my life was for them.

There weren’t choices other than doing what I could to provide. I could have done a lot more had I had support for me from anyone.

I’ve never had unconditional support or unconditional love from anyone. I’ve given it. I have often given my care and devotion unconditionally and fully to others. It just doesn’t ever apply to me.

I could use unconditional support these days.

Every person of blood relation to me has made it clear that that is not a possibility. Everything is ALWAYS conditional when it comes to me. I’m not enough for them. My physical life is not even important to them. It never has been.

So I wonder, on my own, what that might look like.🤷‍♀️

Surrounding myself with animals gives me a bit of an idea. But their sweet little selves just do that naturally. They do have my unconditional love though. I’ll do everything I can for them. It’s what I do! I have many boundaries for humans now though!!

It’s been so nice outside. I’m hoping it’s a mild winter like I’ve read it might be. Caring for these animals was so hard in the long polar stretches the past couple years. I could use an easy winter.

No, not about Halloween or anything related. More wondering about my mom.

I think about my mother a lot. I loved her, I’m sure she loved me. I remember things she did sometimes and spend days trying to understand why.

She had unlimited energy. Multiple jobs and projects running at all times. Constant movement.

She was extremely outgoing. Involved in every club possible. Groups of friends and organizations everywhere. I try to imagine how others saw her, it’s a little beyond my grasp though.

I don’t know if she wanted to keep me close or control me. I don’t know if her reasons for her actions towards me were done knowingly or if she didn’t realize?

I know it pained her that I was never as outgoing as her. She tried to get me to do things the way she would. She took it personally when I didn’t or couldn’t.

I’m sure she saw me as a faulty extension of her. So many diets. Every day overviews of my physical flaws with the ever looming ‘thing’ that I just need to try harder to camouflage. An unnamed deformity that caused me so much anxiety through decades of my life.

Every move, every word, even my breathing could be evaluated or mocked at any and all times.

She was my everyday for most of my life until she died. I wasn’t able to connect with people outside of that relationship. I had friends I hung out with as a kid, but I don’t think I added much input into the friendships. I was mostly a follower because I did not know what was ok for me to say or do. I remember so many times being invited to join family dinners only to wait for my friend in their rooms. I didn’t feel it was acceptable for me to bother others with my presence.

That’s what I was taught by my parents.

Most of my time was with mom. Especially after I had kids. She would have lists of chores for me to do for her projects. I didn’t always know what the projects were, but there was always stuff for me to do. Sometimes she’d have a list of chores and instead we’d end up going shopping, to movies, or to lunch. I rarely knew what we were going to be doing. Idk it kept her happy usually to just go with what worked for her at the time!

Disagreeing was risky. My mother would say something and if I tried to give a differing opinion, there were consequences. She would tell the next person we would see that I had said the thing she had said. She would tell a lengthy story about that being my opinion. I don’t understand why. Or she would take something that was different about me, different from her, and talk about how bad that thing was to people in my presence. Not telling them I liked or did that thing, just in general how awful.

One of the last conversations we had was about traveling. She asked if I ever wanted to start traveling. I said something about if it’s not meant to be, I’ll be ok. There’s plenty for me to be happy about at home.

She spent hours talking to her fiancé about how much smarter, more understanding, just overall better people who travel are. It was actually pretty harsh. I still don’t understand. It was a lifetime of this.

It was still a better outcome for me when I tried to open up to my mother. My dad and his wife are worse. Just plain mean. My dad would often tell me how everyone I see is smarter than, prettier, and better than me. Karen liked to mutter things at me when I was stuck at the house alone with her.

There have been very few people that I have felt safe enough around to open up. It’s rare. No one I am related to is safe.

My mom did change in her last few years. She began to be more open to hearing me. We had better conversations and I heard her opinions about things softening a little. It was nice. She was more relaxed, but still always doing stuff!

It was only a start. I wish she had lived longer so I could experience more of those moments. I think there was a possibility for better.

I thought about buying candy to pass out tomorrow. It’s just too expensive. not enough money to feed animals and other people’s kids.

I’ll turn off the lights another year. 🤷‍♀️

I may have written about this already. I was thinking about the women in my family ignoring my pain to protect the men’s comfort.

It’s always been that way. I’ve always been expendable to all of them.

When I was a young teenager i went to Karen, my dad’s wife because I was having unbearable periods. As usual, she immediately told my dad. She abandoned me. I cannot u destined why she would t at least talk to my mother, or any other woman! Anyone but Ken.

She was obligated to make sure I was going to be safe and cared for the moment I went to her.

Ken took me to some guy. Definitely NOT a gynecologist. Not even a normal doctor’s office. it was an office.

I’m was left alone with this grown man. He stuck his hands in my shirt and fondled my breasts. Then stared down my underwear for a while. He left the room without saying anything.

I had to go with my cheerful dad after I watching these men shaking hands.

I had never been to a real gynecologist before. I had no women in my life who talked to me or who would guide me. I had no one to talk to. And I had already spent a whole childhood being told to shut up about anything that hurt me. Starting with my brother, Brian.

Karen is just as guilty as Ken and that man. She was responsible for making sure I had a proper, safe experience.

I have asked Ken recently who this man was. He refuses to answer or acknowledge. I’m have also asked who Brian’s friends were who harmed me when I was a toddler. Not only am I not permitted to have answers, he gets extremely angry.

I haven’t written about the more extreme traumatic events from my childhood. Every one could have been prevented had I not been isolated and neglected. most happened after my parents put me in dangerous situations. Any signs of my sadness or anxiety about these traumas were shamed relentlessly and punished.

Karen Conley, you are directly responsible for Ken taking me to be molested when I was a child.

My brother was my first abuser. Brian Conley, born Douglas Brian Conley, December 16,1963. He tormented me, scared me, teased and terrified me. He and his friends sexually assaulted me and scared me into never talking about it.

He has found ways to harm me many times since, even though he was not in my life a lot past the time we moved out of Lyndhurst.

My childhood was filled with tears and fear. Night terrors and confusion. Mostly isolation.

He has never faced any consequences. He has never gone anywhere near feeling remorse or taking accountability for the trauma I suffered at his hands.

What did happen was a lifetime of neglect and isolation.

I was a scapegoat and a target. I was abused by predators who saw my vulnerability from mikes away.

As I grew older and faced more assaults, I became more depressed and confused by the world.

My family ignored all of it and left me alone most of the time.

It was a terrible and lonely childhood. When I cried, my dad would be angry and tell me how I fly, worthless , and stupid I was.

I have tried at times to reach out and bring up things. I’ve wanted to be heard and seen.

I tried many times to talk to my dad’s wife. I started trying not long after he moved in with her. She would immediately tell my dad and I’d be stuck with his misogyny and hatred of me.

I used to occasionally call his mom and chat with her. He would tell me not to bother her.

Any time I would make the attempt to reach out. There is my dad stopping me.

His wife has sisters, aunts, nieces, and an adopted daughter. My brother has a wife, three daughters.

I think there’s extended family, I’ve always been isolated so I don’t know how much family there is.

I have even tried to talk to an aunt of mine who I don’t know well. Elaine sent me a thumbs up. Idk what that means.

All of these women just accept that only Ken can talk to me. Brian says his life is better without me, his victim, and that’s acceptable to all of these women.

Two men want me isolated, removed from my birth family, and slandered. And this is ok with all of these women.

I know these things happen to men too. Vulnerable men are scapegoated and abused too often as well. And it’s terrible.

But in my situation, misogyny is such a big part of this. If these men want to erase me, I’m disposable to all of them

Any response from me is turned into something I’m doing to them. If I try to reason, explain, if I cry, if I’m angry, if I’m quiet, depressed, it doesn’t matter. I am bad no matter what. And I have all of those emotions at different times. Of course I do! I’m human, but not to them.

I have kept so much of my life and pain to myself for so most of my life because I had no one to trust. I still don’t. I probably would never have shared anything had the abuse not gotten to be more than I could physically carry.

I even tried to bring the subject of my history with my daughters a couple times. They made it clear they are not interested in knowing anything about me. they have made up their minds that I am going to be whatever they decide I am. So it became the same situation. No matter what I say or do, I am punished for the translation they have for my words and actions. I say ‘the sky is blue’ they say I am trying to make some hateful judgement one someone?? It’s maddening!

I tried so hard to tell them it hurts when they do that. I know it’s always been hard for me to talk about me, my thoughts and feelings. So others make their own assumptions.

My voice was taken from me when I was a toddler. My silence was demanded over and over throughout my life.

The people who are supposed to love me and who are supposed to want to help me navigate into a more open and safe life have only punished me for my forced silence.

All of these women who are family betray me every day. I look at every story of every woman who can’t speak up and it hits so hard every time. My heart breaks for me and all of us who are villainized for both staying silent and suffering and for not staying silent and inconveniencing the poor men.

Ken has enjoyed rubbing in how much they don’t care. Sometimes he would call or stop by to tell me about the family gathering around to help a family member in need. He would go in about how wonderful they are to each other to me, away from everyone, in isolation, telling me not to call or bother anyone.

That’s Kenneth Conley, founder of MainSail, used to be in Beachwood, Oh might still be there. My abusive brother Brian Conley seems to be in charge now??

I hold every woman in the Conley family as guilty of the extended abuse, the exclusion, and misogyny and slander as Ken and Brian

Beautiful full moon tonight. I was outside without my phone. No pics tonight, just enjoying the clear sky. At least three opossums were wandering around. A couple of skunks, some cats, and me and Franklin. I love having lots of life around.

Someday my yard will be my dream garden. I’ll grow lots of extra things for the wildlife to have snacks. I’ve bought seeds here and there for a while. I still want to start a few things inside. I haven’t gotten the energy together to create a Murphy safe space yet. I’ll be ready with the seeds inside and outside.

I’ve been so busy the past couple of days. No time to think too much. I’ve got some emails that need attention in the next couple days. I hate it, I just want to be outside with gardens and animals. I don’t want to do the other stuff.

Sometimes when I’m writing this stuff I can hear how tired I am amongst n my words that I am writing.

I was noticing my exhaustion so clearly last night as I was writing about some of the ways ptsd affects my life.

Some days I am over tired from my normal day to day responsibilities. but it’s the added stress from the situations that I have had no control over, but cause me so much harm, that push me complete exhaustion. I can feel it in what I write. But it’s also in how I move around my chores.

Uggh. I’m want some justice for how badly these toxic people harm me and my life.

It’s 5 am and I’ve been up for a while already because even though it wears me out, the anxiety wakes me up.

Justice, vindication, and safety from these people. Thats the goal

PTS and cpts stuff pops up on my feed. It’s helpful to know that some of the things I experience that I thought was just me, is not just me.

Since my trauma started because of my brother, Brian Conley, I’ve always experienced these things.

I’ve always avoided looking in the mirror. The avoidance increased every year in my childhood. I’d out in makeup without looking at myself as a whole. I don’t wear any makeup at all now. So it’s been years since I’ve looked in a mirror.

I’ve avoided pictures for most of my life. Especially once I hit teenage years. I sometimes have actual panic attacks thinking about having a picture taken.

There’s a few pictures of me out there. I had a senior picture at 17. I’m glad I did. I think it’s ok. And a couple from when my daughter was very young. I took one with my youngest a few years ago that doesn’t cause me too much stress to see.

I haven’t read past that others experience the same. I’m not in a situation where I can spend much time thinking about myself at the moment. Too many stresses that need to be gone before I can do that.

For me it extends to my words. I imagine it’s like that for others. I can’t listen to my voice. And I can’t reread things I write. Any spelling/grammar mistakes stay in my writing. And if don’t catch autocorrect errors as they are happening, those stay too😂

I’ve lived a lifetime trying not to be seen. If I didn’t have kids, I am not sure how much I would have hidden myself away.

I had so much potential for life. But I was born into a family that hated me from my birth.

My brother was my first abuser. I developed night terrors. I cried so much. I can remember these things. Brian never stopped terrorizing me. And he never faced consequences for sexually assaulting me. And I know without a doubt, he had never had a moment of remorse. I know without complete certainty that he has never spent a second considering how his grossly aggressive behavior towards me when I was a toddler may have harmed me. He uses my fear and my pain against me whenever he is able.

The traumas stared so early. I don’t have a reference to who I might have been without ptsd.

I’ve had chances to work on finding out.

There were a few years before my mother died and after I moved away from my ex where I had some emotional and psychological space to think about myself.

Brian took that from me. I don’t know what he was doing with my mother’s estate. But he made the pain stretch out for years. I wouldn’t know when I’d get threatening calls. People yelling about things that I couldn’t understand. I think it was in purpose. I would say, in tears, please I do not understand the jargon/ legalese, etc… I don’t know what this is about. But there would just be more threats and yelling. For years.

My life was gutted by the end. The world around me was tinged in black.

It was more years before I could start to look at my life with myself included in it again.

So it started to be lighter. I surrounded myself with dogs. I was outside every day. Things were quiet, blissful even sometimes.

Then the violent man showed up. My dad encouraged him and chastised me for not succumbing to more violence so my dad didn’t have to be bothered. I’ve been right back to pleading with my father to not just watch violence happen to me. I begged him, just this one time, don’t help the violent man hurt me. He always has. And he did this time too.

And he has been extremely violent. To me, to my home, to many animals. He has gotten groups of men to violently attack me and harass me. He got neighbors across the street to betray our ten year friendly coexistence. He has used contacts to aggressively come after me from the city and the misogyny I have encountered from the city and these men next door has been extreme beyond what I’ve ever experienced.

This needs to stop. I have not been able to be in my home and feel free from harassment and aggression from others. I try to be alone, in my home, and these people are coming to my home to make sure I am not able to have peace.

If I can ever take legal action I will in a second. I want restraining orders, or any legal means to keep all of these people from ever bothering me here in my home! or anywhere of course. but seriously, I’m not going to their homes. I want peace already.

When I can ignore the scum around, I focus on the important things. this earth has so many lovely things. I’m sick of the scum wasting my time.

I had a lovely day with the dogs. We took a pack nap. We had a new dog with us too. Sweet little boy.

Moonflower showed up. He didn’t run right away. But I still couldn’t get close. It’s nice to see him still showing up. Hopefully he only sees kind people from now on❤️