This is a blog you kinda have to follow because I will just be doing updates and not new posts for each chapter.
WE MADE A MONSTER
an autobiography
by: Isha Tae Jade
Start off with the usual here.
Not sure who originally created the picture but it fit so I used it and if you come forward I will happily give you credit.
PLEASE don't report me to anyone.
This shit really happened. From my perspective and many, many years of trying to sort it all out. Still sorting by the way.
This is not fiction. Sad as it may seem, this did happen to me.
Adoptive mother, neighbors, teachers, principals, police, doctors, children, teens, adults, people who didn't know me from shit, my husband, his family, the family I was adopted into (not all of them though). They all contributed to this.
It's sad, it's sick, it's twisted. But it happened and it happened to me. And I know it happens to countless others.
Others who don't survive it, as neither did I. If you call this surviving. I call it existing.
I will be using my own personal spellings of some words. It doesn't mean that I am not capable of spelling them right I feel it just adds a little "ME" to my writing.
So, no, this is not the usual poetry or horror fiction you are used to seeing from me.
I may choose to refer to some people by name, some by a fake name, some by a derogatory name. At any rate I will add a section in the end so you can sort it out as some people have multiple derogatory names. Yep, they were that bad.
It's time this tale was told.
It's time this tale was shared.
I survived.
I wan't to give others the strength to survive.
You can survive.
It will suck.
But you can survive.
Happiness comes from within, so they say.
But what happens when the within goes away?
My within was, and still is, buried very deep. Just to protect it.
I feel, from unraveling 25+ years of abuse, that I was made into a monster.
Keep reading and you might feel the same way.
You might even realize that you too were made a monster.
Chapter 1
HOW DO YOU MAKE A MONSTER?
Start with a dose of confusion.
That's how I remember it happening, for me.
Confusion.
Why did my adoptive mom decide to start being aloof?
Well she liked to "blame".
"Blame" dad for not picking up "HER" mess.
"Blame" people for not wanting to come around anymore because "SHE" got all evil and pissy when "SHE" got hurt falling on "HER" mess "SHE" expected dad to pick up. And yes it called for all the quotes and capitols. You will know why later.
Another good way to make a monster is to let it believe it's opinions count and then berate it, belittle it, and spank it for having them.
"Blame" people for not wanting to come around anymore because "SHE" got all evil and pissy when "SHE" got hurt falling on "HER" mess "SHE" expected dad to pick up. And yes it called for all the quotes and capitols. You will know why later.
Another good way to make a monster is to let it believe it's opinions count and then berate it, belittle it, and spank it for having them.
Chapter 2
MAKE ME BAD
Not only an excellent song but one that I connect with on a internal/spiritual base.
Here's the YOUTUBE link:
All props to Korn.
Chapter 3
the MONSTER MAKERS
I will now take the time to introduce you to the monster makers.
This could take a while...
I shall start with the one I consider most prominent in the creation:
the ADOPTIVE MOM
Moms, no matter who they are,
birth,
adoptive,
chosen,
getting married,
they are supposed to love you.
Right?
Well that's what they brainwash you to believe.
Mom's are supposed to love their children.
Unconditionally.
And if they don't...
You are reading the outcome.
Now,
sometimes,
mom's make mistakes, we all do,
but,
not
all
the
time.
Like 2 or more times a day we are talking here people.
And that's what adoptive mom a.k.a. all kinds of derogatory names would do.
Not every day mind you.
On rare occasions, not under special circumstances, she would be what you would want in a mom.
Yeah, I can't recall many of those.
And, here is the really fucked up part, I was guilted after she would have a good day.
Like it was all my fault she treated me human instead of monster.
Wow, really?
THE BACK STORIES
I am giving you the back stories here, obviously.
Just so you better understand and I don't litter the rest of the book with mindless drivel.
"THE MESS"
I was referring to this in Chapter 1.
The mess was ferns.
Yep. Ferns.
I can actually still see the frickin' pile that caused this.
OK, so, the hag loved ferns. We had them lining our walkway.
Once a year you have to clean them up, like most other plants.
For some unknown reason adoptive mom asked dad to clean them up when I was I think 8 maybe 9, might have even been 7.
Well he didn't.
AND
instead of just sucking it up and doing it herself she left them there and then either fell or possibly threw herself on them and received a very nasty impaling injury to her inner leg.
I do not recall which one.
Apparently, ferns have poison in them and that poison caused an infection that severely damaged her muscles in the area and she wasn't supposed to ever walk again but she did and she was still a cruel hag even though she was walking.
I still don't get it.
I hurt all the time too but I am not cruel hag.
Another referral from chapter 1.
Do you all remember the ballpoint paint tubes? They do still exist also.
I was first introduced to them in the 1970s, somewhere between 77-79.
And how was i introduced you ask? Well family friends made art with them. OK not really art art but art. They just copied iron on transfer cross stitch designs, which, yes, is art.
Well, when they showed it to me I wan not impressed as it seemed lazy to me to paint cross stitch since at that age I was actually cross stitching.
I thought my views and opinions were allowed.
I WAS WRONG!
I said I didn't like it.
I didn't.
But that was apparently wrong to not like something.
I was belittled, called names and beaten when we got home then later taken back to the families house so they could beat me.
All over not liking something.
Think that's bad, the next time I liked something I didn't like was when I was 13. And that's another story.
THE BACK STORIES
I am giving you the back stories here, obviously.
Just so you better understand and I don't litter the rest of the book with mindless drivel.
"THE MESS"
I was referring to this in Chapter 1.
The mess was ferns.
Yep. Ferns.
I can actually still see the frickin' pile that caused this.
OK, so, the hag loved ferns. We had them lining our walkway.
Once a year you have to clean them up, like most other plants.
For some unknown reason adoptive mom asked dad to clean them up when I was I think 8 maybe 9, might have even been 7.
Well he didn't.
AND
instead of just sucking it up and doing it herself she left them there and then either fell or possibly threw herself on them and received a very nasty impaling injury to her inner leg.
I do not recall which one.
Apparently, ferns have poison in them and that poison caused an infection that severely damaged her muscles in the area and she wasn't supposed to ever walk again but she did and she was still a cruel hag even though she was walking.
I still don't get it.
I hurt all the time too but I am not cruel hag.
Another referral from chapter 1.
Do you all remember the ballpoint paint tubes? They do still exist also.
I was first introduced to them in the 1970s, somewhere between 77-79.
And how was i introduced you ask? Well family friends made art with them. OK not really art art but art. They just copied iron on transfer cross stitch designs, which, yes, is art.
Well, when they showed it to me I wan not impressed as it seemed lazy to me to paint cross stitch since at that age I was actually cross stitching.
I thought my views and opinions were allowed.
I WAS WRONG!
I said I didn't like it.
I didn't.
But that was apparently wrong to not like something.
I was belittled, called names and beaten when we got home then later taken back to the families house so they could beat me.
All over not liking something.
Think that's bad, the next time I liked something I didn't like was when I was 13. And that's another story.
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