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I’m trying to keep things quiet this afternoon. The dogs had some wild zoomies this morning! It’s too humid out here now for that. So keeping the zoomies short. We are at an older dogs house most of the day. He likes being around his friends and his yard❤️

Happy to do anything for him. But his crazy friends make a MESS

We will be spending tomorrow cleaning up yards and dogs before everyone goes home.

It’s a great distraction from all of the things I urgently have to have done this coming week. Caretaking 24/7 is hard work. Exhausting! I live all of the animals so much so it’s perfect.

I’ll worry about the worries when they are home.

Always take care of animals. As many as possible. They are all perfect and good for the soul🥰

I don’t want to lose hope. There has been so much destruction to my life, my home and property, my business, and all of the living things around me.

I’ve tried legal aid. I don’t have enough assets they say. I’ve tried putting my requests through online legal seeking sites. But they always come back saying you can’t get help without lots of money.

I don’t think I’ve seen the end of the harassment and the problems that come with it. It’s impossible to actually move forward while it’s unresolved and always a threat.

There’s so much I want to do. Fix up my home, use my yard like I used to, be free to rebuild my business to where it was before…

Mostly the want to live my life every day without knowing there is some level of harassment coming to my home at any and every moment.

I used to quietly retreat at any sign of negativity from others. I’d go home. And I could feel comfort and security in my solitude in my home.

That has been taken from me. I no longer have any safe space.

I hope every day that it is the day when I would get enough money to outright hire lawyers. Or someone would say we can get these people to leave you alone and get them to pay all your legal fees with enough to always have lawyers on retainer. Yay!

That’s the dream

I want to know the feeling of being safe to live freely in my home again

I am watching my oldest little pup this week. 15 1/2. He can’t hear much anymore and he has arthritis so meds to take. I love him so much. I want him to all of the sudden be a puppy again and live forever ❤️ I also have a six month old puppy. A new sister for Jack. They are both high energy! ANC the little one is still learning everything. Soooo sweet. It’s a tiring week. And still very hot. I am worn out by the end of the day and don’t have much energy for anything but dogs and cats!

I put a reel on my socials for one of my journals. I was too tired to think much about so it’s just a look at the pages😂

Thankful for the rain tonight. The air feels wonderful

Growing up I would occasionally ask my parents questions about their lives. It was always ‘none of your business’. I could not ask and they did not share. I was also not allowed to mention my feelings or thoughts about things from my life.

My leg broken by some neighbor kid, third degree burns in a hotel shower, stung by yellow jackets at camp until I blacked out, or any normal day to day occurrences whether good or bad.

Sharing my thoughts or feelings was met with absolute silence. Questions were responded to with hostility that would shut me down immediately.

Wtf was this about?

I was always their scapegoat. Was it just to keep me as that usable object? I don’t know. I wonder if anyone knows. I’ve tried looking up this family behavior but can’t imagine where to begin the search.

I got snippets of my mom’s history through the years. And when I got older I could sometimes share my feelings of if I timed it right. At the end of her life it changed drastically. It could have been great had she lived-sigh

Ken is worse.

These last few years I have witnessed a level of violence in men that I have not seen before. It’s not over. I am still always on watch for violence towards me, my property, and mostly towards the animals around my house.

This man next door was escalating ti an alarming level last autumn. I still fully believe he was trying to eliminate me and all of the animals around before he put his house up for rent. That’s when I started putting all of my images and facts about the violence online. My dad refused to look or help. He, like always, refused to allow me access to or help from his family.

The trauma I was experiencing was beyond what one can handle alone. After a lifetime of internalizing the trauma from family abuse it was too much. None of it is internalized now. It is all going out in the open. Names and all. While groups of people seem to think that it’s ok to enjoy abusing a woman because she’s alone. Well, I’m not ok with it. And it will all be available online should anything ever happen to me.

Back to Ken. This overwhelming trauma list needed answers. I asked my dad and brother for some information about my life, my childhood. Things I am unclear of or just don’t know.

It’s still the same. Ken was furious that I would ask. How dare I bother him with my life.

Brian blocks me. He won’t ever feel any remorse and will always slander me and block me from my own family rather than be honest or accountable.

There are better people in my life. I’m unfortunately unable to really feel safe with connections. These people were too abusive. Still too abusive. The trauma affects every part of me and my life.

But still… why?!

What is the point of treating someone this way?

I can’t understand how the people who are supposed to care are able to spend my entire life doing these things?

How dies a group of men behave so horribly?! I’ve never seen such a violent group of men. There is no level of violence they are not willing to take.

Usually groups like that have men with limits somewhere!! None here.

I don’t miss kind acts from men ever now. It’s always appreciated. Thanks to the kind ones.

Someone walked in my yard today, to show kindness to one of the community cats. Lots of people smile at them at say sweet things to them when they walk by. But there has been a lot of violence towards them from immediate neighbors. This was someone from the house on the other side of mine. One of these cats let him pet him! I can’t express how nice it is to see these cats appreciated and safe.

I am going to take it as a sign of easier, safer times ahead for these animals. At least for the moment I can sleep thinking someone else nearby is kind to animals

🐈‍⬛🦨🐦‍⬛🦝🐕‍🦺

I’m sitting at Lakeview with my little pack of pups listening to the Cooper’s hawks hunting little scared birds. It’s not relaxing bird sounds!

There are so many less birds in general now than past years. Most days I travel the parks and hear almost no birds now. The hunts must be harder for the birds of prey.

And here at the cemetery they have bait traps around their offices. And feel nauseous just thinking about it. The poor hawks and eagles catch poisoned rodents when there are not enough birds around.

Humans are such failures.

I’m an introvert, so I think of myself as a person who likes quiet. But it’s solitude I enjoy. These quiet skies are awful. I want the noise back in the trees now thank you

Sometimes my clients and people I know will say something nice about me. They’ll notice a nice thing I’ve done or something they like about me. It feels awkward every time. I want to get rid of that so I can enjoy the kindness towards me. I have met some wonderful people in the past few years. And I want to know the feeling of just simply accepting a compliment.

I was born to be a scapegoat for my family. Ridicule, teasing, judgement. My laugh would be funny, my walk, my looks.

I didn’t have opportunities to learn about myself, my skills, my personality because it was always necessary to hold back and stay still.

When my parents divorced I was the scapegoat for everyone’s hate for each other. Each parent would vent what they hated. Often the blame was put directly on me. Mom, dad, stepfathers, stepmother. My mother in law became friends with my mother and quickly learned to do the same.

One day she trapped me in her kitchen and spent a full hour yelling at me. The was to blame for her husbands heart condition, for mental illness in their family, for all of her personal problems. The list went on for an hour with me crying for her to stop. My ex and his father were both close by in another room. Neither stepped in. They listened and let it happen. Common and typical.

Never once has anyone in my family stopped the abuse and scapegoating. My tears meant nothing to them.

I grew up believing that I was fundamentally flawed. Of course I know how abusive it was now. But a lot of those things linger.

Every time they retraumatize me it’s like I am pulling myself out of that bullied and abused child all over again. That’s where I am again. Over the holidays I begged for one of them. Any one of them to help me.

The actions of that family are beyond cruelty.

I am working so hard to come through this too. Every part of my life has been harmed over the past couple of years. I’ve fought so hard. And as usual, alone.

Geez it’s cruel

When I was in kindergarten, 4 or 5, I had a best friend at school. Wendy was so much fun to color with. I was happy sitting with her.

She had a developmental disability, or intellectual disability. I don’t know. We were toddlers and I didn’t notice anything. She was my coloring friend and I loved her – that’s what I knew.

One day I went to the playground and saw her crying so I hugged her.

Next thing I knew my brother, Brian, was pulling me aside. Then I saw the kids circled around her teasing her.

Brian said I had to leave and not help her if the kids would make fun of him. He is five years older and I was afraid of him.

I’ll never forgive myself for not thinking of going back to her. My brother told me to do something and I was so manipulated and emotionally abused by him and my parents that I walked away from someone I wanted to help.

I wanted to hug her more and be there for her.

I’m so sorry. I think about it often. I hope she has always had a loving family and so much support. I hope she never looked back and forgot all about me and those children.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be a stronger child. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for her.

The next day at school she yelled at me. The teacher took her out of the classroom. My heart was breaking with the guilt. I know she felt worse.

Brian is not a better person.

Every once in a while I would get to visit my Grandma Hepner by myself.

I don’t know all of my mother’s family history. She gave me bits and pieces hare and there. It seems clear that her father was very strict about how he thought women and girls should live. I think she was very restricted as far as activities and educational opportunities. I’m sure it was fairly common then and my grandmother probably was okay with to a point.

But she was so good to me. She is the only person that made me feel loved, safe, protected, and understood.

I was a quiet child and I liked doing quiet things. She was part of a group of old women who got together for food and crafts.

It was glorious! They all had kilns. They made doll, tea sets, crazy ornate porcelain projects everywhere. They would paint such colorful, intricate designs. Sewing projects. The dresses for the dolls is what I mostly remember from their sewing times. And loads of delicious sandwiches, snacks, and treats.

I would spend days engrossed in crafting, painting, and sewing.

My grandmother and all of her friends would constantly help me and check on how I was doing. They wanted to know if I was having fun. So much loving attention. The absolute best times of my life!

I watched my mother’s interactions with her over the years. I don’t know what they discussed or how they grew together. There was strain sometimes.

I saw a change with them in my mother’s last years. Along with everything else. before my grandmother died she was visiting for a couple weeks.

It was so nice. I wish they both could have stayed with me longer💔💔

We had an afternoon together. Lunch outside in Little Italy. My youngest daughter was there too. I don’t remember where my oldest daughter was. It would have been nice for her to be there. It wouldn’t have been as profound to them as it was to me. But still.

Such a beautiful day. My mother and grandmother were so happy being together that day. Grandma went in for surgery soon after that and died from an aneurism afterwards. Then my mother a while later.

I miss them both.

I’ve never felt safe and protected like I did with Grandma Hepner. Every other person who has ever supposed to care about my well being has only betrayed and harmed me.

I’ve always wanted that feeling again. That love. That comfort.

I’ve asked, begged, tried to remind other ‘family’ members that I am a real human that feels pain.

I’m thinking it’s just not there for me. It was only Grandma Hepner.

It makes what I am suffering through that much harder. I will always have to keep watch on the living beings around my home. They are always in danger. I am always in danger. People who are comfortable and happy to kill animals are a danger to everyone. I’m still going to hope, and keep working towards, getting justice and vindication.

I know it’s always going to be in isolation. I’ll never forgive those who have turned their back on my suffering. The same as those who harm me and animals here. I’ll keep fighting for us anyway

He wasn’t a huge part of most of my life. That’s just a fact. Nit a sentiment.

When I was a toddler though I couldn’t escape. We lived in a small house in Lyndhurst. The second floor was a shared bedroom. No bathroom. An attic type room split in two. I don’t think there was a door. There was a long connected closet. Brian and his friends had free rein to terrify and terrorize me. He is five years older than me. So when I was a toddler he would have been old enough to recognize my fear. It was always on purpose with no remorse. He’s never had remorse. I used to have night terrors when we lived there. Screaming in the night so my parents would end up running upstairs. That was Brian and his friends.

I don’t have clear memories of many of the scenarios of fear. Just the shift from normal to terror. I remember staged deaths and injuries, and him and his friends exposing themselves.

3, 4, 5 year old me was just scared. I doubt Brian was ever in trouble. I’m sure my parents blamed me. I don’t have to hear why they found me defective and why they did not separate me from him.

They never stopped scapegoating me, so I he terrorized me the entire time we lived there, I had nightmares for decades. But Brian has no remorse for causing so much harm.

Eventually we moved to Hudson and I got my own room. For years after that I barely remember him around. Thankfully, he had no interest in being a brother. There was a short time he got religious. lol.

He got preachy occasionally during that time because I listen to metal. I had a friend who liked to pull some stupid pranks on him. I wasn’t going to object. I never talked to her or anyone about the nightmares and my fear of him. It still felt like someone backing me up. It was completely harmless stuff, not like his brutal terrorizing a toddler. But it was nice to at least see him affected.

He went to college. I was alone for a bit. It was weird. My parents would hang out in the family room and be a little present when Brian lived at home. Not after.

It’s definitely a truth that predators see neglect kids from miles away. Instead of being isolated at home. I crashed at a friends house. For about a year, maybe more. Every once in a while I would see one of my parents sitting at her house talking to her mother. I don’t think they even gave her money for anything.

Then I had to move in with my dad and creepy Karen.

I actually reached out to my brother a couple of times after that. I wrote him a couple of letters at college. Talking about the stepmother. No, it didn’t do anything.

But I can’t help that part of me that thinks if connecting. My dad mocks my empathy. But it’s part of me. Even the worst people have gotten chances to fix things with me.

No one in my ‘family’ has ever had remorse or concern for me. But I still can’t help doing that!

Brian invited me to a sibling weekend at Kent state. I was excited. I’m thinking I’m actually going to have a good thing with him.

Drinking, vandalism, stealing a poor janitors cleaning stuff. And the night ended with Brian going off to fuck some other guys girlfriend.

So gross. I cried for months every time I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about it. Can’t explain my feelings about it. But he sucks.

Years later Brian and Shannon invited us to their place. They had a table set outside. Covered in yellow jackets.

Now I was stung by yellow jackets until I passed out at camp one year. I have limited memory of the pain of the stings. However, my memory of running in fear through the woods is VIVID! Then black. I had a couple moments of wavy kind of consciousness. My mother was fuzzy and looking at me really strangely and we were walking to the car. At camp, a doctors, hospital??

Anyway, even if I hadn’t been stung until I blacked out earlier in my life a fear of a table full of wasps is valid. Personally I would never force someone to join the waspy feast or sit by yourself. That’s what they chose though. They had other people there. (I’d like to tell them what scum I think they are)

All of these grown people made individual points to say loudly. It’s not that bad. Or walk by me and say, it’s amazing how they don’t really bother you even though they are all over…

Me, I would not exclude someone like that. As I got older I realized the majority of people would not do that to someone. But Brian found yet another way to cause me harm, embarrassment, unwarranted shame, and fear. Shannon and their friends were comfortable going along with it!

Not good people

Then my mom died.

He kept saying he wanted nothing to do with it. And wouldn’t let the estate end for years and years. I can’t try to write about that again right now. I don’t know what anyone was doing, how it wouldn’t end. I had no say, information, no involvement. Just yelling things at me I don’t know what about still. It started to seem like it was never going to stop. Years and years. I never mourned. She died and so quickly the gaslighting, yelling, confusion overwhelmed everything.

I don’t know what is wrong with those people that they can live with themselves. I’ll never understand wanted to hear someone cry, eating to destroy the life of someone you’re supposed to protect and love.

They consistently used my vulnerability to isolate, gaslight, bully. The joy they feel when they see or hear my pain has always been obvious in their eyes and posture. They smirk and straighten happily when I am falling apart in front of them.

It’s always been that way.

None of these people have ever had kindness for me. It’s only judgement and harshness.

They have always had power over my life. As a child and younger sister my life’s direction in the beginning was in their hands. so many times I would start to find my way out of the trauma they cause. I could be putting together a life, start to look for reasons they are wrong about me. If they have an in, or notice my having some confidence. They’ve stopped it.

Over and over I’ve had to pull myself out of the pain of the destruction.

My dad empowered the violent man. I know it. He minimizes my worth and slanders me. I told Ken I need him to stand by my boundaries because I saw what this violent man is right away.

I was right, of course. Some of us can see people like that.

Now it’s been years of violence.

I’ve even tried to get ‘family’ to stop the scapegoating me and try to see me as a person because I need help .

Eventually all of these people will pay for the abuse. Those who have looked away or joined in the abuse to be ‘cool’ or accepted by the bullies. They will pay their price too.

Brian and Shannon go around part of Cleveland clubs and minor society whatever. I hope there are perceptive people around who see past their fraud and their slander. Brian has been an abuser and a monster his entire life.

Hopefully I don’t feel like writing about him again. There are a lot of memories that are missing the main fright though. If they start coming through after I get some of the other stuff out I guess I’ll write them down too.

I want to spend some time writing about my grandmother. Something good to put into words. Tomorrow or soon.

There’s a six month old puppy cuddled up here tonight. I’m going to have to drag us and her fluffy brother outside before I fall asleep.