02/20/2015 In Podcast Episodes
Tiffany Haddish
Episode notes:
Follow Tiffany on Twitter @TiffanyHaddish
Episode Transcript:
Episode #213
Tiffany Haddish
Welcome to Episode 213 with my guest Tiffany Haddish. I'm Paul Gilmartin. This is the Mental Illness Happy Hour: honesty about all the battles in our heads, from medically diagnosed conditions, past traumas and sexual dysfunction to everyday compulsive negative thinking. The show is not meant to be a substitute for professional mental counseling. It's not a doctor's office; I’m not a therapist. It's more like a waiting room that doesn't suck.
The Twitter handle you can follow me at is Mentalpod, and Mentalpod.com is also our website. So go there, check it out, fill out a survey, see how other people fill them out, join the forum, support the show, make a donation, buy a coffee mug, buy a t-shirt, go fuck yourself. Choose any of the above, all of the above. In fact, if you do all of the above, that is a full day. You will need to rest. And I suggest you wait until fucking yourself. Do that last. Always do that last. Maybe have a cigarette after you’re done fucking yourself. Maybe have a cigarette while you’re fucking yourself. Have I overused that phrase? Maybe I have.
Anyway. Medical update: I’m thinking I need to go off the Abilify. I loved it for the first month I was on it and it’s turned on me, like a Chihuahua. It’s baring its teeth. I’m finding it really hard to maintain conversations. I’m finding whatever room I’m in, I feel like I need to be in another room. And I’m also searching kinda deep inside, going, Is this a spiritual thing? Am I just being too into self? Am I not being of service? Am I being a narcissist and just getting that empty feeling that comes from only thinking about myself? But I don’t think I am . . . I say, staring at a 12 x 12-foot portrait of myself. (I don’t have that.)
There’s just this restless feeling that – frankly, it’s intolerable, so I’m either going to reduce – I’ve already started reducing what I’m doing. I’ll let you know how it goes, but that is mad roulette, man, it is. I tell you, when I’m on the right med and it’s working – and I’ve had some that worked for stretches of months or years, where it was great – but these last couple of years have just been a bit of a crap shoot. So that’s kinda where I’m at, and if I seem a little spaced out, or having trouble forming sentences, blame it on the Abilify. My tongue feels like it’s . . . I think this is one of the side effects of the—muscle weakness is one of the side effects. It can also give you diabetes. That’s the wonderful world that we live in. It’s—those are your options for overcoming depression. Take something that might give you diabetes.
All right. I want to read you a couple of Struggles in a Sentence. Oh actually, y’know what I wanted to read too, was—oh, did I throw that out? No. Our guest last week was Dean Tripp, who was a comic book artist, and we talked a lot about superheroes. And I did a little research and found out there’s a lot of superheroes that are lesser known, um, that I had no idea they existed. There’s a superhero called AquaRinse, and he has x-ray vision, and he can see into an unopened dishwasher and let you know if the dishes are clean or dirty, which I think is pretty powerful. I think that would make a great movie. It obviously would have to take place in the back of a restaurant but, uh, you screenwriters get on that. There’s a superhero called The Pretender, and he’s able to sneak up on criminals by hiding out in Chrissie Hynde’s bangs. For those of you over 40, enjoy that joke. And then there’s Barista Boy, whose superpower is he can keep villains from fleeing crime scenes by putting them to sleep describing his coffeehouse’s unique extraction process. I think that’d make a good movie. Maybe he could also tie people to a chair with his handlebar mustache.
Let’s read some surveys. This is a Struggle in a Sentence survey, and this was filled out by Louisa, and about her depression, she writes, “Like I’m missing layers of skin, too sensitive and exposed, and fucking hideous.”
This is filled out by a guy who calls himself Ugly but Honest, and this is his Snapshot from his life, and he lives with depression. He writes, “Most of the times I do go out, I’m with family, and it usually starts out okay. I’m telling jokes, stories, everything’s normal and right, and then it reaches a certain point. It’s hard to describe, but feels like I suddenly realize I’m in Paris and I don’t speak French. For the rest of the conversation, I have no idea what people are saying or what any of it means. I smile when everyone else does, and I laugh when they do, but all the social interactions suddenly become so alien.” Thank you for that.
This is filled out by Fruitsy Collins, and he writes about his depression—he has chronic, recurrent dysthymia—he writes, “Like having to have an argument before deciding if it’s okay to do or think anything.” Boy, do I relate to that one. I really relate to that one.
And then this one filled out by a guy who calls himself Taking Up Space. About his anxiety, he writes: “I wish conversation could come with a backspace key.”
[Show intro]
PAUL: I’m here with Tiffany Haddish, who was recommended to me by a listener, and they never steer me wrong. They said they heard you on—um, would it have been Dan Harmon? No, whose?
TIFFANY: Probably Neal Brennan’s.
PAUL: Yeah, Neal Brennan’s. And they said, “You have to get her on”. And so I contacted you, and, uh, we made it work! So here we go!
TIFFANY: Here we are!
PAUL: I’m just gonna move your mike back just a tad.
TIFFANY: Mmmhmm. Cool.
PAUL: So here we are. You’re a stand-up comedian, and I was reading some of your background on your Wikipedia page…it sounds like you had a pretty tumultuous childhood.
TIFFANY: It was very eventful. It was a little movie. It was a Lifetime movie, my childhood.
PAUL: [Chuckles] Where do we start? You’re…
TIFFANY: I dunno . . .
PAUL: You’re Ethiopian Jewish . . .
TIFFANY: Yes . . .
PAUL: And Eritrean . . .
TIFFANY: Yeah, my father’s actually Eritrean, but when he came to America, they—it was all Ethiopian at that time, so . . .
PAUL: Oh, okay.
TIFFANY: Yeah.
PAUL: You have a joke in your act about being Ethiopian Jewish.
TIFFANY: Uh . . . I mean, I mean, yeah . . . yeah . . . .
PAUL: Okay.
TIFFANY: I don’t remember it at this moment, but I know something like, I say something like, “When I’m full, my stomach is flat; when I’m hungry, my stomach is all poked out, like. [Laughs] I got cousins that are flies . . . we double-dutch together.
PAUL: [laughs]
TIFFANY: I dunno.
PAUL: I was gonna say, “My parents pushed me to go into tribal law”.
TIFFANY: [Laughs]
PAUL: So, where is a good place to start? There’s so many things that, moments that I read, that are in your Wikipedia page, where I was like, oh, I can’t wait to talk about that. That’s gonna be fruitful.
TIFFANY: [Laughs] Well, what do you wanna talk about?
PAUL: What are your earliest memories?
TIFFANY: My earliest memories? When I was like, three, uh, getting’ a typewriter from my dad, a Playskool typewriter, it made all kinds of noise and stuff.
PAUL: Is there anything better than getting a toy when you were a kid that just, you felt like you were an adult?
TIFFANY: I don’t know if I felt like I was an adult, but I definitely felt like I could help the household. Now that I can type, I can help everybody—
PAUL: Seriously.
TIFFANY: That’s how I thought, I thought that, now that I can type, I can help everyone. But I can’t type for shit today—
PAUL: Still.
TIFFANY: [laughs] Can’t type . . . just bangin’ on keys.
PAUL: Well, did you ever take a typing class, or—
TIFFANY: I took three of ‘em.
PAUL: Really, and you still can’t type!
TIFFANY: I got a C in every one of ‘em.
PAUL: You’re a fuck-up of the highest magnitude—
TIFFANY: My fingers aren’t that fast. I’m a horrible masturbator as well.
PAUL: [Dissolves in laughter] How can you be a horrible masturbator? How, uh, how . . . let’s move on.
TIFFANY: You get tired. Your hands get tired, and you say, you know what, I’m gonna break out the tools. [Laughs] So yeah, that’s one of my earliest memories. Him giving me a toy. Him and my mom fighting, and blood rushing down the middle of her forehead is another memory that I have . . .
PAUL: How old were you when that happened?
TIFFANY: I was about three. I remember sitting on the couch and screaming, trying to pull out my hair to make him stop fighting her . . .
PAUL: Wow . . .
TIFFANY: And when I asked him about it, like, we reunited probably about 7 or 8 years ago, and I was like, “Was this imaginary, just something I made up in my mind, or did this really happen? Was my momma wearing one of those jumpsuits from—“. Like, it was like, that same jumpsuit that a girl was wearing in, was it Scarface? It was like ‘Say hello to my little friend’? Yeah, that, um, that blonde chick, she was wearing this sexy jumpsuit. My momma had on a sexy jumpsuit like that, but it was red and white, and, and I remember her hair being big and fluffy, and them fighting and arguing, and him head-butting her, and then her punching him, and then her on the floor, and me screaming. And I asked him, “Is that real or am I imagining that?” And he said, “Oh, yeah, that’s real. But her jumpsuit was all white . . . and then it was red.”
PAUL: Oh . . . no . . . .
TIFFANY: Yeah. And, I said, “Why were you guys fighting?” And he said that he was fighting her because she stole 200 dollars from his wallet, and he knew it was there when he got to the house, because he put it there in front of her, and then in the morning, it was gone. And it was only me and her in the house, and he’s like, “Did you steal the money?” I was like, “No!” [Laughs] And he was like, “Well then, that’s why.” And, um, yeah.
PAUL: So he split at some point?
TIFFANY: Yeah, he split, he split, maybe shortly thereafter. I remember he took me somewhere, he used to take me places and I remember him smoking cigarettes, and that’s probably why I kind of like—I hate the smell of cigarettes, but then I like it at the same time—weird, but whatever.
PAUL: We get a lot of that on the show.
TIFFANY: Yeah. And, uh, he would take me places with him. I remember we went to Bob’s Big Boy, and he let me play on the Big Boy, the statue—
PAUL: The one at Burbank, or a different one?
TIFFANY: The one at Culver City, there used to be one at Culver City. He used to take me there and he used to let me play on the Big Boy. And I remember that. And then he disappeared when I was, like, four, almost four? He was gone. And he tells me now that he took off because he was selling green cards illegally and my momma was threating to, you know, tell on him or whatever, and uh, so he bounced.
PAUL: What do you, what do you think as you think back to that little kid, um, that all of a sudden didn’t have a dad? It sounds like it was at such an early age that, for most of your life, you were just, like, this is how it is.
TIFFANY: No, I just thought he went to Africa to visit his family; he’d be coming back. He’d be back some, some day—
PAUL: What would your mom say when you would say, “When’s dad coming back?”
TIFFANY: “Well, where’s my dad at?” She’d be like, “I don’t know, probably visiting his family; I don’t know, you don’t got no daddy; don’t worry about it. I don’t have a daddy, you don’t have a daddy, don’t you worry about it, I’ll find you one.” And then she met my stepdad.
PAUL: And how was he?
TIFFANY: Uh, he looked like Alby Shore, and she was so into that. [Laughs] He was like tall and skinny and light-skinned, and, I guess he was good-looking for the time. . . .it was the eighties, y’know.
PAUL: [Laughing] What, was the bar low in the eighties?
TIFFANY: I don’t know, he’s not my type, but, y’know, that’s what she liked, so whatever, I didn’t have to sleep with him—
PAUL: Please don’t tell me he had a Jheri curl.
TIFFANY: No, he had that good hair that naturally curled up, so it looked like a Jheri curl, but he didn’t have one. But, um, they were together, they hooked up, and he worked at the post office where she worked and stuff, and they hooked up and, um, they started making babies real fast. I hated that shit. I hated, like, I didn’t like him. And I remember her telling me, “This your dad, now,” and—they just went to a courthouse and got married, and she’s like “This your dad now”. I’m like, “He’s not my daddy, that’s not—”. ‘Cause I still remembered my dad, I was like five at the time, I’m like, “That, he’s not my daddy.” She say, “He your daddy now, you call him daddy,” I was like, “No, I’m gonna call him Othello [sp?], that’s his name. Othello.” [Laughs] She’s like, “No, you gonna call him daddy,” I’m like, “NO, he’s Othello.” And she slapped the shit out of me, and I was like, “Bhaaah, Daddeeee? [laughing] Like, ‘You my dad now’.” And so, yeah, uh, yeah. A lot of kids.
PAUL: How old were you when she married him?
TIFFANY: I was five. I was five when they got married, and—
PAUL: Did you have any kids, any siblings before then?
TIFFANY: No—
PAUL: So you were an only kid—
TIFFANY: No, it was just me and her, it was just me and her.
PAUL: Oh, that must have just rocked your world in a horrible way.
TIFFANY: Yeah, yeah. It was, I mean, I didn’t mind having brothers and sisters, ‘cause I kinda wanted some, but I had my cousins, so I’d always play with them or whatever, but when she had my little sister, I was all kinds of mad. I tried to sit on her, I tried to knock her off the bed, [laughing] I tried to kill that little bitch for at least the first year. But she didn’t die, she lived, and we good friends now. It’s my sister, ride or die together. But, um, yeah, I mean they were married for probably four years and . . . my mom, she already owned property before she got with my step-dad. And then, I guess some stuff, some suspicious things started to occur, like people at her job were saying they was pregnant with his babies, and some chick that claimed, that he said was his cousin, turns out she wasn’t his cousin, and he married to her now . . .
PAUL: So he fooled around a lot.
TIFFANY: Oh yeah, there was a couple of kids, and so—
PAUL: Well, he looked like Alby Shore—why wouldn’t they?
TIFFANY: Yeah, right? So, um, my mom had bought two houses by the time she had my brother after my sister, and he was like, moving us, like, started moving us out of the LA area, so he moved us to Pomona. Then she found out about some other chick, and that was at her job, the same job that they had, ‘cause my mom was like the manager at the post office or whatever. And so, she found out about one of her employees supposed to be messing around with him and all this stuff, then he moved us even further away, and got her pregnant again, right? And so then she had my baby sister and then we was living in Colton. And, uh, she was driving out to Marina Del Rey, like, every night to work, she was working the graveyard shift, and she would take us with her and drop us off at my grandma’s house, and then pick us up in the morning, which I hated, ‘cause it didn’t make any sense. Like, why are you making us trudge across the city because you working—that, in my mind, I hated it. And I’m like, why can’t he be here with us? And he wouldn’t come home, I don’t know why—
PAUL: ‘Cause he’s busy fuckin’ his cousin.
TIFFANY: I guess so. Cousin fucker [laughs]. So then, one day, I was like, eight-and-a-half, I just didn’t like it anymore, I just couldn’t take it, I was like, “Look, mom: I know how to change diapers. I know how to make bottles, I know how to make hot dogs, rice, all this—I know how to do a lot of things. Like, let me babysit, they gonna be asleep anyways. By the time you get back, everybody be getting up, it’ll be time for me to go to school, you know, it should be cool.” And she’s like, “Okay.” So she was running late, so she left.
PAUL: And you were nine.
TIFFANY: I was about eight-and-a-half. Yeah, almost nine. And, uh, she—she didn’t come back. You know, she didn’t come back and I wanted to go to school, couldn’t go to school ‘cause I wasn’t gonna leave . . . I mean, my sister was probably about six months at the time. So, um, yeah, and the little ones, everybody was little. And, uh, she didn’t come back. Another day go by and nobody comes. Another day goes by, I’m like, I’m calling my grandma like, “Have you seen my momma, have you heard from my momma? She hasn’t come home now, it’s been two days.” And my grandma’s like, “No, I haven’t heard from her or anything,” and, um, she calls the—
PAUL: Why didn’t your grandma come stay with you?
TIFFANY: Uh, my grandma didn’t—I don’t, I don’t know—my grandma ended up coming and getting us—she came and got us, um, once she found out where my mom was. She was like, calling all my mom’s friends, calling the job; them like, she never showed up for work. You know, she’s calling this person, that person; she tries to get ahold of him, can’t get ahold of him, ‘cause of this auntie, and this auntie’s like “Oh, she’s been in the hospital for two days now, she had a car accident,” and she’s like, “My baby had a what?” “She had a car accident. She’s in Pomona in the hospital.” So my grandma goes to the hospital; it turns out that, uh, she goes there first before she comes to us and, uh, turns out, my mom went through the windshield, her head went through the windshield. The brakes [unintelligible] out on the car, you know, it was just all bad. And it took her three months, she had to learn how to walk talk, eat, everything—she had amnesia, she had to learn who we were again, and—
PAUL: Wow.
TIFFANY: It was really hard. I remember when they let her out of the hospital, the doctor’s like, he sat me down and he’s like, “Look. Your mom will never be the same mom that you knew before. She’s gonna be different. She won’t be the same. She’s okay, but she won’t be the same.” And, like, she looked completely normal. I mean, the first day I saw her, when they finally—they waited a month before they let us see her, and she looked like a monster, I mean, she looked messed up. And my stepdad, you know—that time was really weird, it was really—‘cause he didn’t come back to the house until my grandma showed up, and when my grandma showed up, then he came to the house.
PAUL: He didn’t come back till it was unnecessary for him to be there.
TIFFANY: Well, apparently he thought that we all—well, he didn’t know where we were. He wasn’t sure where we were, I think, and we were all supposed to be in the car, and we was all supposed to be dead. So. But, I wanted to babysit. So we lived. We all lived.
PAUL: Yeah, ‘cause otherwise you would have died, huh?
TIFFANY: Probably, ‘cause we didn’t wear seatbelts back then, it was the eighties. [Laughs] It wouldn’t of . . . my seatbelt was my momma’s arm comin’ across that thing, hitting me in the chest, AAAAAAGH! Karate chop to the throat, that was the seatbelt.
PAUL: The other thing that I read in the Wikipedia is that your mom developed—
TIFFANY: Schizophrenia, yeah. And the doctor said she’d never be the same, he was not lying. I mean, she came back, it was like, I was helping her with everything, you know, getting dressed, all kinds of stuff. She started to function on her own, and she had a really bad memory, and then stuff started coming back to her, and after like, a year you’d think, she’s good, she’s normal. But, I mean, by the time I was ten, I was getting beat, like, every day. She was hearing voices, talking to herself, become a very violent—and, you know—
PAUL: Why are the voices never nice? Why are the voices always—
TIFFANY: Why are they evil voices?
PAUL: It’s always like, “You gotta drown your kids” or, “You’re a piece of shit, you need to die.”
TIFFANY: Oh, her voice was, “They gonna rape you. We’re rapin’ all of y’all. We’re coming from outer space . . . .” She said the aliens was coming from outer space, and they was coming to rape all of us. And then she would be different people, like, she would be different. Like, you’d wake up one day and she’s like Glenda the Good Witch, y’know, just the nicest, most kindest, most wonderful woman ever; and then a few hours, or an hour, or just, you know, few, next minute, she’s fuckin’ Mike Tyson, tryna knock you out; or she thinks she’s Vietnamese and she wants to do your nails, you know, like you never know who she was gonna be, and—
PAUL: What was that like?
TIFFANY: It’s scary, but it’s funny, it’s like, it’s funny, ‘cause like, now I notice that I kind of surround myself with weird crazy people. I mean . . . and that might be because of her, I don’t know. Maybe I became accustomed to it. I don’t know . . .
PAUL: Do you feel addicted, or do you get, uh, charged up by drama and chaos?
TIFFANY: Uh, no. I get really frustrated with drama. I’m so frustrated with any kind of drama.
PAUL: Then why would you wanna be around people that are kind of . . .
TIFFANY: I—I’m like a magnet for them. I attract them. But they don’t do—here comes the thing that’s crazy—they don’t do the drama to me, with me, or in my presence, but they tell me about the drama—
PAUL: Ohhh—so you get to live vicariously through—
TIFFANY: They pour the drama on me, and then I have to wash it off. [Laughing] Y’know, like, I think…I don’t know if I’m a therapist, but they sure like to tell me what’s goin’ on with them, and then I’m like, I make it fun. Y’know, I make it funny. I be like, “Oh, well look, that’s a blessing that he knocked you out, girl; now you know to get away from him. That’s a, that’s a perfect sign to leave!”
PAUL: It happened, and now you, now you know that it’s not meant to be.
TIFFANY: Yeah. Right. So, I don’t know. I don’t know. It made me, uh . . . it made me a good person, at the end of the day. And I can fight anybody. If anybody try to fight me, I’m not afraid to fight.
PAUL: You wanna go, right now?
TIFFANY: If you want to. You wanna get your ass beat in this little office . . .
PAUL: [Laughs]
TIFFANY: [Laughing long and awesomely]
PAUL: [Laughing] Why do you gotta insult my office? . . . It is a tiny office.
TIFFANY: It’s okay. Least you got one.
PAUL: It . . . it comfortably fits a pair of shoes, though. It’s snug.
TIFFANY: Yeah. It’s nice.
PAUL: Think of us as . . . you’re a shoe and I’m a shoe. Isn’t it—
TIFFANY: Well, in Japan, this is a luxury apartment.
PAUL: Yeah. . . . Um . . . I think I could take you.
TIFFANY: You think so?
PAUL: I think I could take you. But then again, you might have that, that mean streak in you where you do something that just complete—you know, a fingernail right in the eye socket—do you fight dirty?
TIFFANY: Nah, you have to have long fingernails—no, I don’t fight dirty. But I do rip at genitalias.
PAUL: Uh, then, ah, I’m not sure I wanna go. I’m not sure I wanna go.
TIFFANY: I mean, I breaks all the rules.
PAUL: [Laughs]
TIFFANY: I breaks all the rules. But I’m always clean, I always wash my body, so I never fight dirty.
PAUL: [Laughs without vocal chords]
TIFFANY: But I learned how to crazy fight. That’s what my mom, I have to give her that, like—she might have been messed up or whatever, and mean and kinda evil towards me, would say some of the meanest things, things you should never say to a child—
PAUL: Like what?
TIFFANY: Uh, “You ugly like yo’ daddy, you ain’t never gonna be shit like yo’ ugly-ass daddy,” and other things that I’ve tried to forget. And I think I have forgot, I’ve put it past me, I don’t try to hold on—
PAUL: Was this after her mental illness came out?
TIFFANY: Uh-huh.
PAUL: Would she say mean things like that to you before her mental illness came out?
TIFFANY: Nah, I don’t really remember her saying too many mean things before, but after her, after her accident, I mean, she became so nasty and she would say stuff like, “No Haddishes allowed, only Englishes. I only love Englishes, I hate Haddishes. Haddishes are violent.” Y’know, ‘cause she used to fight my dad, so, and uh, she would separate me from my brothers and sisters. She’d be like, “All the Haddishes go wash the dishes, and the Englishes come here with me,” and my mom was like an excellent storyteller. Like, one of the best storytellers you’d ever meet, and she would—and that was a thing I loved about her, like sitting around and listening to her stories—
PAUL: Who were the Englishes?
TIFFANY: My brothers and sisters.
PAUL: Oh, okay—
TIFFANY: ‘Cause their dad is an English.
PAUL: I got you.
TIFFANY: So, we were segregated.
PAUL: I see.
TIFFANY: Yeah. Yeah. I dealt with segregation in the home.
PAUL: [Laughing] Did you have to drink from a separate water fountain?
TIFFANY: [Laughing] No, but I didn’t get to have no Kool-Aid, I only got to drink orange juice.
PAUL: Seriously?
TIFFANY: No.
PAUL: Oh. All right.
TIFFANY: [Laughs hard.] No, but we, um, I mean she was a great storyteller, she would love to tell stories to us, uh, but, I guess, like, she just, I dunno, I feel like a lot of times I reminded her a lot of herself, or who she was before. I look a lot like her, and I’m just lighter, I’m just a lighter shade of her . . . and I feel like a lot of times, that bothered her. It’s like, you know, she never could get that back. She never can get back that business-oriented—I mean, she had two, three businesses by the time she was 30, you know? Not only was she working at the post office, but she had like Demo Deluxe goin’, so she was doing like demos in grocery stores and on the weekends, and we would help, and she was doing all kinds of stuff, like she had real estate . . . and she lost all her real estate and everything, she lost everything. Like, and, it got really, it got really scary. It was very scary.
PAUL: And, at a certain point, um, child services came in and put you in foster care.
TIFFANY: Yeah. Yeah.
PAUL: Can you talk about that?
TIFFANY: Yeah. So . . . my brother—
PAUL: I assume it was because your mom wasn’t able to care for you.
TIFFANY: Yeah, she was not . . . I was the mom. I was taking care of everybody. I mean, she was tellin’ me about her sex—like I’m 10 years old, 11 years old, she’s talking about her sex life, how she needed, you know—by the time I was 11, yeah, ‘cause she talked about how much she needed to have sex with her husband, “I need my husband,” like, if she started talkin’ about how—‘cause they started hooking up, and she was like, fuckin’ him in the van and shit, and she was telling me all about this stuff, like, ‘cause she didn’t have no friends anymore. Like, that’s the thing with mental, like, a lot of mental illness, like, they stop having friends. Like, and, so then, ‘cause people like, “I ain’t dealin’ with that crazy shit, like she talkin’ weird, I ain’t fuckin’ with her”, but then, if there’s somebody whose, like friends have fallen off, and they got kids, now we’re trapped [laughing] with this crazy bitch, like, we’re trapped in this. And I felt like, more like I was the protector ever since the doctor told me, you know, “You’re gonna have to look out for your mom, she’s never gonna be the same, you’re gonna have to take care of her, you’re gonna have to look out for her”. I became the protector of everybody, you know—
PAUL: And how many kids?
TIFFANY: It ended up being five of us total. She got pregnant again, she got pregnant when I was 11, by my stepdad, and—
PAUL: I’m just gonna move your mike a little bit.
TIFFANY: Yeah. She got pregnant by him, and uh, had my baby brother, who was like the apple of my eye, who I just loved to death, and uh, I wish he would, like, sometimes I wish he was my son, but he called me momma for the first, like 2, 3 years of his life . . .
PAUL: Wow.
TIFFANY: Like, y’know, I’d be like, “I’m not your momma, I’m Tiffany, I’m Tiffany, say Tiffany, say Tiffany”—“MOMMA, MOMMA”—“No, Tiffany”—“MOMMA!”—“Say Tiffany”—“MOMMA!” . . . and, it was super hard, ‘cause it would be embarrassing, you know, I’m carrying my brother with me to the grocery store, we’d go on down to the [unintelligible] store to get some milk or whatever, and he’d be like, “Momma, momma,”—like, everybody looking at me like, “This girl looks like she’s 10!” Like, I looked really young at 11, I looked really young at 12—
PAUL: That must have been embarrassing.
TIFFANY: 12, 13. Super embarrassing! And then, um, ‘cause I used to carry him in that little slingshot thing, you know . . . I really liked that, I liked that part, taking care of my sisters and brothers. I liked that part. I didn’t like why I was doing it, though. And, uh, my other brother, he was getting in trouble at school. Like I used to make breakfast, like I had to catch the bus at 5:45 in the morning, so I waked up at 4, made breakfast, make breakfast, y’know, and then I would lay their clothes out the night before and I’d go to school, get on the school bus, go to school, and I would assume they were going to school, you know, but—
PAUL: [laughs]
TIFFANY: [laughing] They were not! Well, my sister was, but my brother, he—my mom just let him do what he want to do, he’s the king of the house, he the man of the house, my momma used to say. Like, he’s fuckin’ seven! Like, he’s six, he’s seven. “He’s the man of the house. You let him alone. If he don’t wanna go to school today, he don’t have to if he don’t want to.” And, uh, and so, he wasn’t going, like, he would go to school once a month, and he’d come to school in pissy clothes, like, wears dirty clothes, not wearing nothing I laid out . . .
PAUL: So that’s how child services got involved.
TIFFANY: …And tell the school, the teacher, “I’m hungry, my momma don’t feed me, don’t nobody at the house feed me, I’m hungry, I’m hungry.” Even though he had lunch tickets and all that stuff, he was just being greedy, and just being a fuckin’ dickface. I mean, I got a lot of whippings because of him, he used to get me in so much fuckin’ trouble. And I wouldn’t even do nothing— he got suspended from school one time, and my momma bought him a Sega Genesis. That same day, I came home with my report card, and I had, I think, Bs and Cs, and I got the dogshit beat out of me.
PAUL: Wow.
TIFFANY: And I’m like, okay, this don’t make no fuckin’ sense. [laughing] Like it didn’t make sense to me!
PAUL: She must have felt so much guilt around all the stuff that she was putting on you—
TIFFANY: I dunno.
PAUL: —and just projecting it on you, or something, I mean—
TIFFANY: I have no idea.
PAUL: I can’t wrap my head around how somebody, how you could be doing that much for her, and still be gettin’ the shit beat out of you.
TIFFANY: I don’t know.
PAUL: That’s the only thing I can think of—
TIFFANY: I imagine now that it was frustration, like complete frustration, like not knowing how to –like, I mean, mind you, she did go through a windshield headfirst, so I’m thinking, now that I’m older, when I think back about it, she didn’t know how to express herself. She didn’t know how to be loving, it was like difficult for her to understand things. We would say stuff to her and I’d be like, Dang, am I like talking Spanish or something? Why doesn’t she understand what I’m saying? She doesn’t even listen to reason, like, nobody could reason with her, not nobody in the family could reason with her. It was like, you know, just delusional . . . craziness, it don’t make no sense! And she know it don’t make no—it’s like she knew it didn’t make any sense, and it made her mad, like you could see in her eyes—
PAUL: [murmuring] . . . so . . . frustrating . . .
TIFFANY: Like, “I know this is not—I’m kinda right but I know I’m not right, but I’m fuckin’, I’m goin’ through with this. I’m following through with this, ‘cause I don’t know how to say or how to do, like . . . .” I remember one day—
PAUL: Sounds like she was trapped!
TIFFANY: Yeah! And she’s still trapped. She’s still—she’s in a mental institution right now. And, you know, it’s gotten to the point where, you know, I used to take her out for a day or two, and like spend time to get her hair done and all this stuff, but by the end of the visit, she’s trying to fight me, she’s trying to beat me up. I’m like—you know, all my life, only person I really only ever had to fuckin’ fight is my momma! Like, it don’t make no sense! Why do I have to fight this bitch? Like, uh, I don’t know. And I don’t want to fight her, I want to love her. I want to love up on her, I want to hug her, I want to bury my face in her armpit, like when I was little, and fall asleep in her arms. Like, but I don’t think that can ever—it’ll probably never happen. It’ll probably never happen again, you know. ‘Cause she don’t like me. I know she love me. I can see it in her eyes, I know she love me. But she don’t like me. And it might not even be her, she probably, I don’t know, sometimes I think schizophrenia and all that shit, it’s like, maybe she demonized; maybe when her head went through the windshield it cracked a little, and a demon got in there, and he can’t—they sewed her head closed and they sewed the demon in—and you know, you come up with all these things when you’re a kid to try to justify, and make right your parents’ mistakes or inability to love you the way that you, you think you should be loved and maybe the way that I think that I should be loved is not the way; maybe the way she loved me is the way I was supposed to be loved, and that’s why I am the way I am today, and I’m able to bring joy to so many people, and I’m able to take care of so many people, and, and, um, and I definitely know what love is, um—
PAUL: But you missed out—
TIFFANY: I definitely know. [Pause] I might’ve missed out, but maybe I didn’t! Maybe I got it from other places.
PAUL: Yeah . . .
TIFFANY: Maybe I was already born with it, and maybe I was just put here to teach her something, to reflect—
PAUL: Yeah, I never thought about that . . .
TIFFANY: —her. You know, like, I mean, I feel like every baby is loving. Every baby comes in this world with a whole lot of love in their heart, I mean they snuggle up to you right away, like, everybody’s born with love, nobody doesn’t have love. You’re born with that shit. You crave it, and want to give it . . .
PAUL: And the ones that aren’t, you leave in the restaurant.
TIFFANY: Yess. Leave them sitting there.
PAUL: You put them right on top of the tray stacker—
TIFFANY: [laughing] Leave em.
PAUL: And you slink out.
TIFFANY: Yes. Mm hmm.
PAUL: [long inhale and exhale] What the h . . . .
TIFFANY: So, yeah. Where were we going with that?
PAUL: [speaking very slowly] Well, as you’re sharin’ all these things with me, um, it’s a little overwhelming—
TIFFANY: [long exhale]
PAUL: —to hear all of these things; it’s like a, um, I don’t have words for it. For, for me, being outside of your experience, hearing you share it, as an objective person, I’m like, that is horrifying. That’s so fucked up. But I know from having come from a fucked-up family, and had things done to me that other people are like, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine what that’s like,”—I can’t feel them, ‘cause they were my normal, and I understand that’s probably the same thing with you—
TIFFANY: Yeah!
PAUL: —but it breaks my heart to hear about what a little adult you had to be—
TIFFANY: Yeah!
PAUL: —and that you didn’t really get a childhood.
TIFFANY: I mean, glimpses, pieces—
PAUL: Can you share any?
TIFFANY: Pieces of my childhood?
PAUL: Do you remember any, where you just got to be free and be a kid? Where you had some moments with your mom, or your dad—
TIFFANY: Yeah.
PAUL: —or step-dad, that were awesome?
TIFFANY: I mean, moments that were awesome. We went to Thousand Trails.
PAUL: What’s that?
TIFFANY: It’s a, it’s a, it’s a camper park, it’s a park where people have, like, RVs and stuff. And we had a [unintelligible] and my baby brother, uh, Lance, the one that used to get me in trouble all the time, he had just been born—and we got in this black car, he had a must’ve had a black car, and we got in that thing and we rode to—I don’t know where, Thousand Trails, I remember the sign, Thousand Trails, and like, the coolest—we camped out, we had a fire, we walked in the woods, I thought I was a werewolf, I was so scared and excited, and I remember we all slept together, like we all cuddled up together. Like little puppies. [Giggles happily].
PAUL: That’s beautiful.
TIFFANY: I loved that. I loved that. Like, I don’t know. I used to think, like, I would one day have kids, like I don’t think, I don’t know, everybody say I should have kids, like you’d be a great mom, but I don’t wanna really have ‘em cause . . . uh, I don’t wanna fuck nobody up. I’d much rather, I gotta lot of friends that got kids, and I love on them, and take them places, and show ‘em things, and when they get on my nerves, I just drop ‘em back off—
PAUL: That’s how I feel.
TIFFANY: —and I don’t hit them, or accidentally choke ‘em out like my momma did me. But I used to—
PAUL: [laughing] Did you tap out when your mom would choke you?
TIFFANY: No, I tried to scratch her face off. [Laughing] You’re almost dying, I thought I was gonna die. So there was no tappin’ out; there was, look her in the eyes and scratch her face and maybe she’ll come out of it.
PAUL: That—I mean—let’s just let that soak in for a second. [Pause.]
TIFFANY: What?
PAUL: That you think that your mom is killing you, and you had to scratch her eyes out.
TIFFANY: Yeah!
PAUL: I mean . . . . I can’t imagine what that’s like.
TIFFANY: Mmmm. She used to say all the time, “I brought you in and I’ll take you out, I brought you in and I’ll take you out,” so you think for real, like, it’s programmed in your head, “She’ll kill me.” So you fight for your life if you want it.
PAUL: Were you able to sleep soundly?
TIFFANY: Nah . . . I mean, if I washed the dishes, if I cleaned everything, if I knew like, if I cleaned, then I knew I’d be all right. But if it wasn’t my turn for chores, like, my sister, she had chores and stuff, if she didn’t do her chores, if everybody didn’t do their chores, and I fell asleep, I’m gonna get beat, and I’m gonna get beat up my sleep at least once a week, ‘cause I would be not making sure everybody did they stuff. If I didn’t make sure everybody did they chores . . .
PAUL: Do you have, um, nightmares?
TIFFANY: Mmm, yeah. [laughs] Yeah.
PAUL: What are they like?
TIFFANY: They’re like little movies, they, uh . . .
PAUL: Can you describe . . . ?
TIFFANY: They’re movies . . . I don’t know, they’re freakin’ weird! I don’t know. Like I have one, like there’s no, like, well, there’s this one where I get beat a lot, but I don’t feel nothing, and I’m just laughing at everybody, like, they’re trying to beat me and I’m just laughing. And, uh—
PAUL: Does Angela Bassett play you?
TIFFANY: No, no, it’s me playing me, uh . . .
PAUL: [Cinematic baritone] In a role you were born to play.
TIFFANY: [laughs]
PAUL: I like how I had a woman who’s old enough to be your mom playing you.
TIFFANY: I know, right?
PAUL: It’s so insulting.
TIFFANY: Right? It’s cool. It’s okay.
PAUL: It’s just she plays everyone in a biopic.
TIFFANY: I know, we black women don’t age, so we’ll just go with that, and movie magic. I’m not upset that you said that.
PAUL: I could have said Cicely Tyson—
TIFFANY: You could have said Halle Berry.
PAUL: I could’ve.
TIFFANY: That would’ve been even better. I would’ve still said no. She’s still older than me, but she could play my auntie or something. Anyway, it’d be me playing me.
PAUL: Okay.
TIFFANY: And, in the dream, it’s, you know, different, various family members attacking me, and uh, then there’s my mom beating the crap out of me, telling me it’s my fault that she done lost all her kids and stuff. But it’s not my fault, it’s really her fault. I mean, she—
PAUL: Is that clear in the dream, that it’s not your fault? Or do you believe her in your dream?
TIFFANY: I keep saying “It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault.” But, I mean I have all kinds of crazy dreams, like I just recently had a dream that my ex-husband—and I keep having this dream, like, every other week, it’s been going on for like two months—my ex-huband is a shark with braces—
PAUL: [convulses with laughter]
TIFFANY: —that I keep in a tank. In my living room in my mansion, I have a huge shark tank in the living room of my mansion, and he lives in the tank. And he has braces, and he’s tryna get his life together. And then the tank breaks, and I wake and he constantly, in the dream he constantly breaks the tank, and he’s just trying to get into bed with me, and I—
PAUL: Oh my god—
TIFFANY: —like I’m in the bed, in my dream, and I wake up and it’s a shark next to me and he’s smiling with braces. And tryna throw his fin over me. And then I wake up every time. That shit scare the fuck outta me.
PAUL: That scares the fuck outta me.
TIFFANY: Yeah.
PAUL: Was he violent towards you?
TIFFANY: Yes. He was the only dude that’s every, like the only man that’s ever been violent towards me. And, uh, we divorced and stuff, ‘cause I was, I recognized, I can’t fix this, and I’m just—
PAUL: How long were you married?
TIFFANY: For like, five years. And um, I was like it’s not, it’ll probably happen again, and I left him. And I went back to him thinkin’ okay, he’s been going to counselling, I’ve been going to counselling, maybe this could work, maybe we just, you know. And um, then I realized I didn’t like the motherfucker no more.
PAUL: [laughs]
TIFFANY: [laughing] Y’know, it’s like, ‘I just don’t like you’. And I didn’t trust him, and I had that same fear that I had of my mother, in him, and I don’t wanna fear nobody like that. I don’t wanna live in that. That, like, I don’t know who I’m waking up to today, are you fittin’ to beat me today, are you gonna choke me today, or are you gonna hug me and love on me today? Like, I don’t want to live in that. I wanna know that this person’s gonna love on me, and if I make a mistake or some, say, “Hey, you made a mistake; not cool,” but I’m not gonna get punched, or choked, or thrown onto the floor because I made a mistake.
PAUL: Do you feel like therapy helped you recognize that?
TIFFANY: I feel like therapy helped me organize my thoughts. Y’know, organize and prioritize my life, and figure out what’s more important, like, “Am I important? Or are these people more important?” And if these people are more important than me, y’know, how can I be of service to them if I don’t take care of me? If I’m not happy within me? If I’m not—
PAUL: And you learned that in therapy?
TIFFANY: —cool in my skin. I learned that in therapy and, yeah, meditation and stuff. I mean, the therapist just helped me to learn to figure out, just gave me a lot of questions, asked me all these questions—which I was like, “Why am I paying you money to ask me questions?” That don’t make no fuckin’ sense to me. Like, I didn’t like that part. Like, get the fuck outta here with all these damn questions. But, those questions provoked thoughts, and those thoughts [snaps fingers] get me to prioritize; it made me start thinking, “Okay, I need to organize what is important to me. What do I really want? Like, yeah, I want the people around me to be happy, but what does it matter if I’m not happy?”
PAUL: Right? They, did they, did your therapist say that you were co-dependent?
TIFFANY: My therapist said that I had a, a . . . I don’t think, I don’t remember them saying anything about co-dependency. But I know they said that I had . . . battered wife syndrome? And probably had it since I was a little girl. And, uh, ‘cause I was definitely—like I protected my mother, I tried to protect her, even though she was beating me up, she’s still my momma.
PAUL: Most people do with their abusers, especially if it’s their caretaker. You know, the thing that I’ve heard explained is the reason why you do that is because that keeps the truth at bay, that you’re in the care of somebody who’s not safe.
TIFFANY: Right.
PAUL: Because that’s more frightening than—
TIFFANY: Yeah—
PAUL: —the idea that you might deserve the beating—
TIFFANY: Right—
PAUL: —which is never the case.
TIFFANY: Well . . . I dunno. Sometimes people deserve beatings. Like, when my brother burned my sister’s face, he burned a hole in her face, I bit the shit outta him, tried to kill him. I didn’t kill him, though.
PAUL: How old were you?
TIFFANY: I was, uh, probably 15, maybe 14…no, I was 16; yeah, 15 or 16. And he burned a hole . . . they was drinking cocoa, like hot cocoa, you know how you make cocoa on the stove or whatever, in a pot? And she made him some, and gave it to him, and didn’t tell him it was hot; and he was like, let me have some off my spoon; and so she gave him some off her spoon, and it burned his tongue. So, he decides, “Well, you gonna burn me like that, I’m gonna fuck you up.” So he gets a spoon, puts it on the stove, and just burns her face with it—puts it up against her cheek. And she’s the same colour as you, like, little light bright girl. Big ole hole in her face, big burn mark in the side of her face. When I saw her skin bubbling up and she came in screamin’; she was screamin’ and there’s all these bubbles all over her skin and it’s all red and it starts peelin’, and I was like “What happened, what happened?” and she’s touchin’ it and it’s peelin’, and I’m like “Stop touchin’ it! What happened?” and she like, “Leslie [?] burned me, he burned me!” When I found him, he was hiding outside in the back; went out there, smashed him, dragged him in the house, whuppin’ that ass, just like my momma used to whup my ass. ‘Cause that’s all I knew, like, y’know, like, you don’t burn girls, you don’t burn girls, and I remember chokin’ him. And my other sister tryin’ to pull me off of him. And then, my baby brother went in and grabbed my grandma and like, “Tiffany about to kill him!” [Laughing]
And, um, my grandma get me, and we had just got out of foster care. We just got out of foster care. And, um, the social worker came over and she was like, “Look, what do you wanna do?” to my grandma—y’know, “What do you wanna do?” And she was like, “I can take one of ‘em out. Which one do you want taken out?” And, mind you, he’d already been breakin’ doors, bustin’ windows, kickin’ holes in walls, stealin’ money, like he was doin’ all kinda stuff, so really, he needed to go. And the social worker was like, “I suggest— y’know, you said Tiffany’s very violent with him, and I suggest you send Tiffany; maybe she needs some one-on-one.” And my grandma’s like, “No, Tiffany don’t need no one-on-one; she’s helpin’ me with these kids. Take him. He need one-on-one, he’s bustin’ this, doin’ that, doin’ this, it’s stressin’ me out, you take him. And he was standin’ right there. We was both standin’ right there. You could see in his eyes, that crushed his whole world, like, it crushed him. It crushed him. And I looked at him and I just started laughin’ in his face [laughing] ‘cause I got beat so many times because of him when we were with our mom, y’know, so many punishments I suffered, busted lips and lost baby teeth and all kind of stuff because of the lies he would tell on me. If I was happy he was goin’ to a foster home, but at the same—like, he was being taken from us—‘cause we had all just came out of different foster homes. We had only been there for a year. And it’s like, now they took him out.
So he got a home; he had a mom and a dad, and they treated him really good, and I used to come over there on the weekends to catch the bus to go see him, ‘cause I’m still responsible for you, even though I don’t like you that much anymore. I’m still respons—I still love you, and I’m still responsible for you. So I go on the weekends to where he was, catch the bus all the way over there, and he would not come to see me. The lady’d be like, “Oh baby, he don’t wanna see you,” or “He not here right now”—but I see him in the window! Like I see him sitting there playin’ Nintendo, like I see him playin’ the game. I don’t wanna talk to you! Like, it was back, it’s all my fault, y’know. Oh, whatever.
PAUL: And you were a kid. What was your experience in foster care like?
TIFFANY: I mean. [Long, deep breath.] It was okay. I mean.
PAUL: [Laughing] Oh, whoa…
TIFFANY: [Laughing] It was okay.
PAUL: Hold on, those two things didn’t fit together.
TIFFANY: It was okay. I mean, I moved around a lot; I—
PAUL: Why the long exhale?
TIFFANY: Because, it’s like, I don’t want to necessarily remember it. Y’know, you don’t wanna wallow in that shit.
PAUL: You don’t have to go there if you don’t wanna talk about it—
TIFFANY: It was shitty! It wasn’t like, nobody like—I mean, it wasn’t that bad. Not as bad as some of my friends, or some of the people that—I mean, I’ve developed lifetime relationships with certain people, comin’ out of that system, that program, and um—it’s just like, I don’t wanna wallow in it, man. It sucked! I moved—I remember the day we dropped my sisters off and my brothers off, that was like the most painful day ever—
PAUL: I can’t imagine.
TIFFANY: Y’know, and I needed to know where they were gonna be, ‘cause I was gonna catch the bus to wherever they would be, so I could check on ‘em. ‘Cause that’s my job! My job is to take care of them, my job is—I feel like that’s my—it’s a hard job and . . . I kind of quit recently [laughing]. If they called me, if they needed something, y’know, I’mma complain like a motherfucker but they gonna get it, y’know. ’Cause that’s my job; the doctor gave me this job. I have to take care of them. But, it make you tired.
And, um, I mean, foster care was okay, I learned a lot, l learned how to clean, I learned how to cook things, I learned how to shut the fuck up . . . . I learned for a long time, I felt like I had no value, ‘cause when you move—I didn’t have a suitcase, y’know. I never realized how important a suitcase was, how…just havin’ a, like, putting your clothes in a trash bag and goin’ to the next place, it make you feel like garbage. All those clothes are garbage, y’know. Your favourite little mementoes or whatever, you’re garbage! They’re all garbage! Then you’re just garbage moving from one person’s house to the next person’s house; and you just hope they don’t throw you out like garbage. But they do. They do. Like . . . [Unintelligible] to Grandma, it’s like, this is what I always wanted, I always wanted to live with my grandmother. And that was cool. I mean, she’s the most wonderful person in the whole wide world. She made me so strong, and taught me to believe in myself. I remember, there was some, like father-daughter thing at school or whatever, and I didn’t have no dad to come up there, but it was like open house time or something was going on, I can’t remember what exactly—
PAUL: And your grandma put on a moustache and came?
TIFFANY: Nah, my grandma didn’t put on no moustache, ‘cause I was the school mascot, so I was like, y’know, dressed up like a mascot and I’m seein’ all these girls with their dads, and some of ‘em were with their moms, and they were like, happy. And I was at some bar mitzvahs [laughing]—
PAUL: As the mascot?
TIFFANY: No, no, as the energy producer, I’m the energy producer, that’s what I really do in life, I produce energy.
PAUL: Is this when you’re an adult or is this back when you’re a kid?
TIFFANY: Uh, I was like, 15, I started when I was 16, doin’ bar mitzvahs, I did ‘em for like 11 years, I did over 500 bar mitzvahs.
PAUL: Doing—being an energy producer?
TIFFANY: Yeah, I would do comedy; I would dance; I would get the kids to do activities, like, or get all the adults on the floor—
PAUL: Just to rev everybody up and get the excitement going—
TIFFANY: Produce energy, baby. Get the party started.
PAUL: Do you do warm-up for sitcoms? ‘Cause you would be custom-made for—
TIFFANY: Aw, man, I would be so good at it! I’ve only done one show, and it wasn’t a sitcom show, it was a talk show or whatever, and that’s it. I would like to, I been tryin’ to tell my agent I wanna get into that, like do audience warm-up—
PAUL: They should get you into that, ‘cause that is a specific skill, and people who can do it work a ton. A ton.
TIFFANY: You gotta be like a cheerleader, right?
PAUL: Absolutely.
TIFFANY: Get the people going. I’m really good at that, that’s one of my gifts! And I was doing that for a long time, and you know you see the father-daughter dance, or the mother-son dance?
PAUL: Aw…
TIFFANY: And it’s like, they play this music, and it is the most—you wanna fucking rip your face off [laughing]. Y’know, just rip your eyes out. And like, I would cry on the inside; or sometimes, if I was on my period, I had to just go outside and I would fuckin’ cry, ‘cause . . . I’d be feeling jealous I guess; I don’t know if it’s jealousy or it’s like, “I want that,” or “Why didn’t I get that?” And I remember I came home one day and um, I was like 17, or 16, almost 17, and I was just like, in this funk, and I was just mad and I just tore up my closet, ripped everything out of my closet, I don’t know why, I was like, “I don’t want none of this shit! I don’t want this—” like, I was just ripping the clothes off the closet. My grandma’s like, “What’s wrong with you?” and I was like, “I don’t want none of this stuff, I don’t [unintelligible] it; it’s not worth nothing; I’m not worth nothing; nothing’s worth anything; like, I’m garbage; like, I belong to a judge, I don’t even belong to you, like—I just felt like—stanky, screamin’ like garbage.
And my grandma like just grabbed me and looked me in the eyes; she said, “Baby, you are not garbage. You are a national treasure. The State of California is paying me so much money to keep you alive. They pay me to keep you alive for a reason. You are a treasure! There is a social worker who comes to make sure you’re being properly cared for. You are not garbage! You are valuable! You’re a treasure!” And just kinda like, boom, that kinda stuck with me.
PAUL: That’s beautiful. Your grandmother sounds like a really beautiful—
TIFFANY: She’s the shit! She is so awesome!
PAUL: She probably saved—single-handedly saved your psyche from shattering.
TIFFANY: She saved a lot of us. She saved our whole, like, she used to say she got the same thing, like rescue, tryin’ to take care of everybody, like,
PAUL: And I take it she’s your mom’s mom?
TIFFANY: Yeah. And I could tell it crushed her, not being able to, y’know, do for her daughter, like fix her daughter; that, like, I could tell that messed her up. And she had already lost another daughter, lost a son. She’s like a hoarder now. And I’m always like, Grandma, you’re buyin’ all this stuff, you got all this stuff in the house because you’re hoardin’ emotions, like, you’re buyin’ all this stuff; like, let’s just cry; let’s just scream; let’s go shoot guns; let’s go—but she’s like, “Baby, I don’t got time for that. I don’t have time for all that negative energy. Imma just go shopping. Just go buy what I want, so y’all don’t have nothing to fight over but this stuff that I buy.” “But Grandma, we can’t even walk through the house! You gotta be skinny to visit you!” “Right. Stay healthy.” [Laughing] Like, you can’t be a fat person tryin’ to visit my Grandma, ‘cause, like, she has aisles of stuff, like you have to be skinny to get around the house. It’s sad. That part is sad. ‘Cause I know she’s just sad from like, she’s lost her babies, y’know? And I don’t know, I’m always afraid, like, am I gonna be a hoarder? Am I gonna be like that? I do want a family. But not really. I would love to be that little group, or litter of puppies, mommy dog, daddy dog, and our babies, we’re all curled up together, sleeping in a camper—I would love that. But then, what comes with all that?
PAUL: Mm hmm.
TIFFANY: Y’know. Can I handle that part?
PAUL: The kid wrecking the car . . . all the other shit . . .
TIFFANY: . . . All the other shit. And there’s a lotta shit. I don’t know if I’m strong enough. So I’m just, have dogs and tell jokes, make people laugh, and I got Godbabies galore, and Imma do that.
PAUL: One of the things I read was that they gave you a choice when you were a teenager: either go to psychiatric counselling or go to a comedy camp.
TIFFANY: Yeah.
PAUL: And you chose the comedy camp.
TIFFANY: I chose the comedy camp.
PAUL: Talk about that.
TIFFANY: Yeah. I was getting in trouble at school for talkin’ too much, and just bein’ – I was just tryin’ to find a way to fit in, and how to make friends, and I had seen that movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit? And there was a scene in the movie where the detective says, “Why is everybody doing all this stuff for you, Roger?” And he goes, “’Cause I make them laugh; if you make them laugh, Eddie, people will do anything for you!” So that was my key to success, like, I’m gonna make people laugh; people gonna do things for me; I mean, shit, I couldn’t even fuckin’ read, man. I had a great memory though. I would have people read to me, or I’d ask questions about something, and I’d remember that shit like, boom. Sometimes it make you look really stupid, when people lie to you, but then you know not to fuck with anyone. But, um, yeah, I was getting in trouble—I had these imaginary friends I made up—
PAUL: And how old were you at this point?
TIFFANY: I was like, 14, 15. And I had these imaginary friends that I made up because, nobody was really like paying attention to me in school. And so I was like, people about to start paying attention to me. And so, I don’t know why I did this, but I might have—I had a bird; I called the bird Cracker; and I would talk to the bird. And I went to a predominantly white school.
PAUL: Cracker was imaginary?
TIFFANY: Cracker was imaginary, so an imaginary bird. And I would talk to Cracker, I be like, “Cracker, you want a Polly?” “What’s the answer to number 7, Cracker?” like, when we were taking tests and stuff. And, then I would get sent to the dean’s office for being racist, or whatever. And I would be like—oh man, I dunno, I was weird …. The dean would call the social worker; the social worker would come up to the school, get mad she had to come all the way up there; say “Imma gonna put you in a school in South Central, I’m gonna put you in a school in LA.” “No, don’t, I ain’t gonna go, Imma keep coming here, just like I did in the beginning—“ ‘cause like, when we first went into foster care, the first foster home she put me in, I mean, I still wanted to school, ‘cause I felt like that was my safe place, that was a place I could be crazy, weird, whatever, and people would just laugh, would be like, ‘aaaaah’, y’know; nobody’s gonna beat me there, that’s how I felt like; nobody’s gonna try to take anything from me, or make me do anything I don’t wanna do. And so, um, man . . . . So, this one day [laughing], like, I was in that foster home for maybe 3 days, and then it was Monday, time to go to school. And I took my ass to the school. I got up at 4, and caught the RTD, it was the RTD at the time, caught the bus, all the way to Woodland Hills, and um . . .
PAUL: Where would you go, El Camino?
TIFFANY: Elmwood to Hale Middle School and El Camino Real—
PAUL: Mm hmm.
TIFFANY: Yeah, at Hale, we’d ride the bus out there, it would take like, 3 or 4 hours on public transportation—
PAUL: Oh my god . . .
TIFFANY: And I would go to school. And so then, police start coming out there for me, ‘cause the foster mom said I was AWOL, that I was runnin’ away, like, but I would come back at 7 o’clock at night, ‘cause I would catch the MTA, the RTD, all the way back. And uh, kept callin’ the police on me and stuff, and then, um, they finally said, “Okay, you can go to this school”. ‘Cause I wasn’t even supposed to be at this school. I was supposed to go to some school off of like, 100 and somethin’ in Normandie or somewhere. And then by the time I go to high school, y’know, I dunno, I was just really kinda cuttin’ up; and she was like, “You got two choices. You can either go to Laugh Factory Comedy Camp, or you can go to psychiatric therapy. ‘Cause somethin’s wrong with you.” And I’d been winnin’ drama festivals. I had been winnin’ in like, the monologues and stuff, so, I was like, shit. I’ll go to the comedy camp—well, I asked her, which one has drugs? ‘Cause I knew my mom had to take drugs goin’ to psychiatric therapy. And I had a cousin that was taking drugs from psychiatric therapy. So, I was like, “Am I gonna have like, which one has drugs?” She was like, “Oh, you gonna be on drugs if you go to therapy; you gonna be on drugs!” and I was like, “Well then I’ll go to the comedy camp.” And that changed my whole, entire view about myself, about life, about people, men, everything changed. It changed a lot. Taught me communication skills, gave me confidence—
PAUL: How did it change your view of men?
TIFFANY: It was the first time, like, men were like kind to me, and I didn’t think they were gonna try to rape me, or try to do something to me, or want something from me, or take—y’know, just try to hurt somebody around me—
PAUL: I see.
TIFFANY: Y’know like, I would be on stage—it was the first time a man told me I was pretty and I didn’t feel grossed out, y’know, or disgusted, like, like he gonna do something. ‘Cause you know, you be in these foster homes, you hear all these different stories, and then maybe something would happen, you know, it’s a little creepy, men are kinda—y’know, ‘ooh, he look good, but I don’t know—I don’t know if he gonna hurt me or not.’
PAUL: That must be terrifying.
TIFFANY: Yeah!
PAUL: Or unsettling.
TIFFANY: Unsettling, unsettling, it’s uncomfortable. It’s probably how white women feel around black people at the mall—I don’t know! [Laughing]
PAUL: [Convulses into laughter] That’s terrible!
TIFFANY: I don’t know. Or they go to an event and they’re like, “Why am I the only white person here?” It probably feels that way. However that feels.
PAUL: It must be tiring.
TIFFANY: Yeah. So, that’s why I try to counteract that with, y’know, positivity; be positive in my thoughts, but also let people know that I see the shit, y’know, like, I recognize bullshit real fast, and just decide when I’m gonna be like, ‘get that outta my—‘, like ‘get away from me’, or, whatever, y’know—
PAUL: Sounds like you don’t have any problem standin’ up for yourself.
TIFFANY: Nah . . . nah.
PAUL: That’s a great tool.
TIFFANY: Yeah.
PAUL: Or quality to have. I think a lot of people envy that; I envy that in other people.
TIFFANY: Really, being able to stand up for yourself?
PAUL: Ohhh, god, when you don’t have it, it’s—the world weighs—
TIFFANY: Really?
PAUL: —so much on you—yeah! Because, if you don’t have boundaries, and you don’t know how to enforce them, then you’re—going outside your front door is terrifying, because you don’t know—everybody else’s needs can just invade you.
TIFFANY: Mmm. I know that feeling. Yeah. I know that feeling.
PAUL: Maybe I shoulda kicked my brother’s ass when I was—but he was older than me, so—
TIFFANY: You know what’s funny about that? I used to whup that ass back in the day, and now, they’re all bigger than me, all of them are like six feet plus, bigger than me; my sister has a black belt in Muy Thai, my brother does like, security at Chevron, does like big security stuff, whatever, like everybody has good jobs and they’re all strong and all do things that are kind of physical—
PAUL: [laughing]
TIFFANY: And they all still scared of me. Like, I’ve rolled up on them and they be like, “Hell, wh—wh—wh?” I still got the power, ‘cause I’m only like, 5’6”, maybe 150 pounds—
PAUL: But you’re confident. That’s . . . that goes a long way.
TIFFANY: Really?
PAUL: Oh, yeah. Your eye contact is . . . um . . . yeah, you just have a way, a directness about you—
TIFFANY: Well, yeah, ‘cause I’m reading your spirit. I’m a unicorn. [Laughs]
PAUL: [Laughs]
TIFFANY: I am, I’m the last black unicorn, I like to say. Unicorns destroy negativity. Y’know, it’s really hard, I feel like, I feel like, personally, it’s hard for people to be negative around me. They try, but it like, it always like, fucks, like you can’t be mean around—like, you can be mean but—it’s really hard, it’s difficult, to do that around me, I feel like.
PAUL: You know what I heard somebody say one time, is the only thing that you need around darkness is light.
TIFFANY: Mm hmm.
PAUL: Darkness can’t survive light.
TIFFANY: Mm mmm. But it hangs out in the shadows, though. It will try to find the shadow. But, I dunno. I think, ‘cause unicorns are so magical and wonderful, and people try to take them all, I dunno, I think they really existed at one point in time, ‘cause there’s a lot of animals out here that have horns, and what animals with horns, what do they do, they fuck you up, you try to bring that bullshit. And that’s what I do. I keep it all good, but I fuck up that negativity. Period. Unicorn power. [laughs]
PAUL: [laughing] What would you say to a teenage girl listening to this episode who had, or is living through, some of the stuff that you lived through?
TIFFANY: A teenage girl . . .
PAUL: Let’s say a teenage girl—‘cause I get emails from teenage girls who are so—
TIFFANY: Why are you gettin’ emails from teenage girls—what’s really goin’ on? [Laughs] No, I’m just playin’, I’m just playin’. No, go ahead, finish the sentence.
PAUL: —who are stuck in abusive homes, but they don’t wanna tell on a parent because they don’t want a parent to go to jail; maybe they’re gay and they can’t come out, or they’re gettin’ hit, but they don’t want to get child services involved because they don’t want to see their little brother or little sister have to go into foster care—
TIFFANY: Yeah, bein’ separated.
PAUL: And they don’t know what to do. What—I’m not asking for you to give them the solution, but I guess I’m asking you to give them some type of strength, or comfort or posi—something they can hold onto.
TIFFANY: Imma say this. I don’t know if this is something you can hold onto, but imma tell you this: Being in the system, it sucks, right? But here goes the upside to it. There’s a lot of programs and stuff that can help you, and you don’t have to be in the system for long; and maybe your parents are the way they are, like beating you and bein’ mean or nasty to you, or doing whatever to you, because they don’t know what else to do. They don’t have no tools, so maybe they need tools. So maybe calling Department of Children’s Services and getting them involved could be of service to you, it might behoove you to do so, because maybe you guys might get taken out of there, maybe you might get put in some weird situations; and, but, here goes the benefit, which I wish I would’ve known when I was younger, but I didn’t know till way too late: they got transitional housing programs; they teach you how to get jobs; they got job training; they got all kinda grants and scholarships that you don’t have to pay back to go to college; they’ll pay for you an apartment; they will get you books; they will get you a suitcase. Everybody should have a suitcase. [Dissolves into laughter]. I’m sorry. In ways—and you should just know—
PAUL: But it’s made out of plastic bags.
TIFFANY: No. No. Once you graduate from high school, they’ll get you a suitcase. They’ll give you money for your diplomas, and, and, they’ll help you get a car, and all kinda stuff. It’s all kinda great stuff, you just gotta hope you get a good social worker, like, if that’s the case. But if you don’t wanna tell, you don’t wanna be, y’know, you just wanna sit through that shit, well then I say, find something that you love. Find something that you love that doesn’t hurt anybody, that doesn’t hurt you. I found comedy. I love teeth. I love to hear people go, “Ha ha ha ha ha!” I love to see laughs, hear laughs, maybe I should’ve been a dentist because I love teeth so much; but I don’t wanna hurt nobody, I just wanna bring joy to people. So that’s what I found, I found a job where I produce energy and I dance and I got a lot of frustration off.
And, and, I still had to go home to a lot of shit, I mean, even though I was living with my grandma, um, it was a lot of shit still. My momma knew where I lived; I had to fight her every Sunday, damn near, y’know. But I became very strong because of that. Can’t, ain’t nobody see me in a fight, not that I’m calling anybody out, but thank you for teaching me how to fight. I know how to protect myself now. Y’know, and it’s like, you goin’ through this shit right now, whatever you goin’ through, you gay, your momma beatin’ you, somebody touchin’ you, whatever you goin’ through, be—and it’s gonna sound fucked up to say—but be thankful that you are able to go through it. ‘Cause some people die. ‘Cause some people can’t even, they can’t even, they just kill theyselves, they so weak, they can’t even, they just kill theyselves. And you’re not that weak! If you’re able to take any kind of abuse from anybody, you are strong. If they abuse you and you didn’t die from that, you’re strong. And you can be even stronger. So, if you need some rescuing, I mean, I dunno, Department of Children’s Services rescued me. But maybe you have a family member, a friend, somebody you could go to and ask for help. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, that is, like, don’t be afraid to say.
PAUL: And if the first one doesn’t work out, keep asking for help—
TIFFANY: —asking. Keep asking.
PAUL: ‘Cause a lot of times . . . [deep breath]
TIFFANY: And you don’t have to try to fight or do stupid shit or cuss people out to ask for help, like shit! You can be kind and people will still help you. They will help you. Or just be funny and they’ll do anything for you.
PAUL: [Laughs] Tiffany, thank you so much for coming and sharing your life with us.
TIFFANY: Thank you.
PAUL: I really appreciate it.
TIFFANY: Yeah. Okay, next time I come here, don’t be havin’ me all in my childhood. Let’s work from 20 on next time.
PAUL: Well, do you wanna talk about that?
TIFFANY: No, no, next time, next time!
PAUL: You sure?
TIFFANY: Yeah. Next time.
PAUL: Okay.
_______________________
PAUL: Many, many thanks to Tiffany. Yeah, my Abilify was uh, at like the hour mark, I was like, I think I’m spent in having the conversation, so I hope it didn’t appear that I wasn’t interested in her, because that’s honestly one of my favourite episodes; I was so moved by it. But that restless fuckin’ feeling. I’m assuming it’s the med. No, it’s because I’m a horrible person. It’s—what if I went to see my psychiatrist and he’s like, “Oh no, it’s because the core of you is fuckin’ rotten and slimy”? Anyway, we should have her back on and have a part 2, definitely, ‘cause I really enjoyed talking to her.
Um, before we take it out with a bunch of surveys, we have a lot of surveys, I’ll probably give up halfway, halfway in-between and just get into the fetal position. But, I wanna remind you if . . . oh, the words. If you . . . feel so inclined to help support the show, you can go to our website which is mentalpod.com, and make a one-time Pay…pay…I don’t like my chances at reading these surveys. You can make a one-time PayPal donation, or you can sign up and become a monthly recurring donor for as little as 5 bucks a month. And it doesn’t seem like a lot, but it means the world to me, and it definitely adds up and helps keep the show going. Fuck the rest of the messages; let’s get to the surveys.
This is, um . . . oh, I wanted to read this one first because I felt like it’s kind of relatable to the interview with Tiffany. And this is a Shame and Secrets survey filled out by a 16-year-old, um, girl who calls herself Serene Serena, and she identifies as pansexual, raised in a pretty dysfunctional environment.
Ever been the victim of sexual abuse? “Some stuff happened but I don’t know if it counts. When I was 9 or 10, my parents took me to a therapist. He was horrible; he didn’t touch me, so I don’t think it counts as abuse, but it was deeply traumatizing.”
Well, it sounds like it was abusive, just not necessarily sexually abusive. Unless what he was saying was, um, inappropriate, in which case, I think—oh, shut up, Paul. For the love of god, shut your mouth. Shut your fucking mouth. [Pause] Continuing…
She’s been emotionally abused. “My father has been mentally ill my whole life. He would do stuff like, when I got sick, he would tell my mum I was faking it. To this day, whenever I’m sick, I hide it from people with the fear that they will think I’m faking it.”
Whenever people use the word mum, I always want to know if they’re from Australia or England…or related to Charles Dickens.
Any positive experiences with your abusers? “Both my parents, especially my father, treated me badly. I feel deep anger towards him, but I feel so guilty for being angry. I wish he would be easier to hate.”
Well, that’s a profound sentence. I think a lot of feel that way. Really, really feel that way.
Darkest thoughts: “The other night, my dad was yelling at my mum, sister and me and I realized how fucked up everything had gotten, and I took comfort in the thought of turning the gas on while we all slept. I took solace in the peace of death. I would never hurt them, but it made me feel peace for just a second, like that death would take away my father’s anger and my mum’s fear.”
Darkest secrets: “As a very young child, I had a lot of sexually inappropriate behaviour that I hid from everyone. I knew stuff that a 4- or 5-year old shouldn’t know.”
What, if anything, would you like to say to someone that you haven’t been able to? “I wish I had someone to tell my whole story to, not just the shit I say now. I wish I could tell someone, like a total stranger, to help me to get out of my family situation.”
What, if anything, do you wish for? “I wish I could wake up with my memory wiped, in the middle of New York City, and escape” —oh, she is from Australia “—and escape Australia. I wish I could forget everything that has happened and just leave.
Have you shared these things with others? “Throughout my entire life, I have been secretive and in my own head. When both your parents drink and neglect you, all you can do is talk to yourself. I still do talk to myself. People think I’m so weird. I had one friend when I was 6 years old who was fucked up like me, and understood all the weird shit I do.”
How do you feel after writing this stuff down? “I feel like I’ve told someone. Maybe no one will ever read this, but I hope someone does, and gets a glimpse into my life.”
Well, we did, and thank you. Thank you for sharing that. Um, oh, one more.
Is there anything you’d like to share with someone who shares your thoughts or experiences? “Just the feeling of being so fucked up that you feel like you can’t function. It’s like people become afraid of you. It’s like people become afraid of you because they’ve never had shit like that happen.”
Well, hang in there, Serena. Hang in there, and I hope you took comfort from—I hope you heard our episode with Tiffany.
This is a Struggle in a Sentence filled out by a woman who calls herself Jazz Hands. And she writes about her OCD: “I obsess with time. Multiple alarm clocks despite waking up the first ring; checking those alarms multiple times; setting clocks 5 minutes ahead; getting anxious when I don’t know the general time; and, worst of all, being late.
“Traffic was unusually bad that day, and I found myself dangerously close to being late. Five minutes left, but it would take at least that to find a parking spot. I kept checking the clock. With each passing minute, I felt like I was about to commit a mortal sin. It’s fine, I repeated to myself, it’s fine. The world is not ending; it’s okay. It didn’t make the feeling of dread go away, intensifying until I sobbed to myself the rest of the way. By the time I parked, I was officially two minutes late. I got out of the car, sprinted across campus, raced up the stairs, burst through the doors and took a seat, doing my best to dry my eyes before anyone noticed. Not like it mattered; the professor was late anyways.”
Thank you for sharing that.
This is a Struggle in a Sentence filled out by Nick, and about his depersonalization, he writes: “I can completely switch off and remove my consciousness, so it’s like I’m observing myself. This usually happens during flashbacks or difficult situations, but can happen any time. Some people deal with this as a chronic issue, however . . . mine is episodic. It’s a – “
I fuckin’ hate you, Autospell, so much. You know, how it read: ‘some people deal warn this as a chronic issue however move is episodic’; so I have to figure out just how stupid Autospell is.
“It’s a constant struggle, as I have no control over myself during an episode, and have no memory of it afterwards, so often finding myself needing to patch up arguments I have no memory of having”.
That must be really difficult. Hang in there; hang in there, Nick. This is filled out by Jane, and it’s a Shame and Secrets survey; and Jane is in her 20s, straight, raised in a slightly dysfunctional environment, never been sexually abused but she has been emotionally abused, and she writes:
“When I was in the army, my commander screamed at me a lot. He assigned me a lot of extra duties beyond what he would assign the other officers. He constantly pulled me into his office to tell me that I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t belong in the unit, and that I was too fat. (I always met physical fitness standards, but I had to get tape measurments taken because I have large hips and breasts, and I was over the quote ‘standard weight for my height’. He told me true officers make weight, and don’t have to be taped. It made me feel miserable, worthless and inadequate.”
Well, you know, I bet this motherfucker was against women being in the army to begin with. And that was his whole deal, and it had nothing to do with you. Anyway, continuing:
“It contributed to a depressive episode while deployed in Iraq that made me contemplate suicide. I hate how mean he was to me, but more than that, I hate myself because I didn’t live up to his expectations. I never confronted him or told anyone else. I felt so much pressure to be strong and stoic for the soldiers in my platoon, so I kept everything bottled up. I left the army two years ago, and I still have bad dreams where he is yelling at me, and I wake up sad and ashamed that he still has so much control over my life. None of the rocket attacks or IEDs bothered me as much as my experiences with him. What an asshole.”
Any positive experiences with your abusers? “I was an excellent marksman, and that was about the only positive thing he would say about me. He would brag to other infantry commanders that one of the best shots in the battalion was a female in the support company. At the end of the day, I don’t think he hated me or was trying to be sadistic; I think all of this screaming was his fucked up version of mentorship.”
What are your darkest thoughts? “I often wish that there would be a major car accident on the highway while I’m driving, so that I can be the first on the scene, save people and become a hero. I hate myself for selfishly wishing tragedy on other people to glorify myself. I also have a bad relationship with my dad. He divorced my mom while I was in college, and cheated on her numerous times, and left in a really ugly, destructive way. Now he’s become nostalgic, glossed over the terrible things he did, and often tries to reconnect with me and restore our relationship to how it was when I was a child. I sometimes wish he would die so I wouldn’t be put in the awkward situation of having to pretend I still like him. I don’t have the courage to just cut him out of my life.”
Darkest secrets: “When I was deployed in Iraq, and at my deepest moment of depression, I almost committed suicide. I remember finding a quiet spot, and loading my 9mm pistol and putting it to my temple. I sometimes have flashbacks and can vividly feel the cold metal pressed against my skin. I never pulled the trigger because I knew it would devastate my family, and I had soldiers to take care of. I’m scared that one day, I’ll be that sad again, and that I won’t hesitate.”
Sexual fantasies most powerful to you: “I’m actually pretty bland sexually. I might be a borderline asexual person. Most of the time, I just have sex because it makes my husband happy. I love him, and I like being able to fulfill that need for him, but I could go without sex for the rest of my life and probably be just fine. I feel weird for not having sexual fantasies. I love kissing and cuddling, though.”
What, if anything, would you like to say to someone you haven’t been able to? “I would like to tell that commander to go fuck himself.” I think we all would like to tell him to go fuck himself.
What, if anything, do you wish for? “I wish that I could love myself even 1/10th of the way my husband unconditionally loves me.”
Have you shared these things with others? “This fall, things got so bad, I finally went and talked to somebody. About 6 weeks ago, I was officially diagnosed with PTSD and depression, and started taking medication to help my sleep, anxiety and sadness. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, to admit I needed help; but therapy and medication are already helping tremendously. I’m just now seeing for the first time how terribly dark of a pit I was trapped it.”
How do you feel after writing these things down? “A little bit better.”
Anything you’d like to share with someone who shares your thoughts or experiences? “For a long time, I refused to ask for help because my problems weren’t as bad as other people’s problems. I told myself, ‘There’s someone out there who has it worse than me, so I have no right to complain.’ It took me a long time to realize that although that is true, that doesn’t make my shit unimportant, and that doesn’t mean I’m not worth fixing. Your shit is important too, and you’re worth the investment.”
That’s the second time investment has come up in describing . . .ah, I love those moments of synchronicity. Well, thank you so much for sharing that, Jane. I really appreciate it. And so glad you’re getting help, getting out of that pit. It’s amazing how we can be in that pit and not even realize it . . . amazing. [Sips] Lil’ sip o’ tea. God, I love green tea. I love all kindsa tea. I love black tea—not a fan of white tea. I look at white teas like non-alcoholic beer; like, what’s the fuckin’ point? I get a little angry about that. Don’t get between me and my tea opinions. I will cut your fuckin’ knees out!
This is from the “What Has Helped You?” survey. This is filled out by a woman who calls herself “I Hate Your Face Carebear”. And her issues are: “Complex PTSD from physical, mental and sexual abuse, including being abducted by a man identifying himself as a youth pastor; and being raped and choked by my ex-husband, and many more times where fucked-up people used me as a punching bag or sex toy.”
What helps her deal with them: “Art, music and video games. I paint, draw, air-brush, play piano, ukulele, guitar, sing, write songs and love to shoot people in their stupid faces on Halo.”
Ah, I fuckin’ love you. Love you.
This is “Struggle in a Sentence” filled out by a trans male who calls himself Jonestown. And he writes, “I need to take Xanax for my anxiety, but I’m anxious because I need to take a Xanax.” Brilliant. Brilliant.
This is the Shame and Secrets survey filled out by a woman who I instantly like. Her name? CrazyPants McGee. I’m already a fan, I’m already subscribing to her newsletter. She is: straight, in her 20s, raised in a totally chaotic environment, was the victim of sexual abuse and reported it. She writes: “My brother, four years older, molested me for about a year when I was 10. My family was very abusive and neglectful. The only time he was nice to me was when he molested me.” Boy, I read that all the time. All the time. “I feel such shame because I allowed it and I enjoyed someone being nice to me. I hate myself because my body responded, but I have such incredible levels of anxiety and panic around sex that I dread sexual feelings. I absolutely numbed out during it, which helps me to know it was damaging, but I still feel responsible, dirty, disgusting. I have a wonderful therapist, but I still feel completely broken and disgusting.”
She’s been emotionally abused and physically abused. “I’ve been physically abused by my stepmother. He beat my mother and brother regularly and hit me once. I feel lots of guilt that I didn’t get more; that my abuse wasn’t bad enough. Emotionally, I’ve been used by pretty much everyone in my family. Mother was Borderline Personality Disorder, so she was very emotionally volatile; told me I should lose weight, try harder, be better, pretty much constantly. Preferred my brother openly, even though he abused me. She actually punished me after she learned he had been molesting me.” Wow. “She actually punished me after she learned he had been molesting me”. Wow. That’s fucking unbelievable.
“My stepdad was a violent—“ of course, it doesn’t end there—“My stepdad was a violent drunk with PTSD from Vietnam. Raged, yelled, hit, punished for no reason. I was scared to sleep in for years, and always felt I was responsible for others’ feelings. He terrified me. My biological father was around until 14. He actively encouraged me to have sex and do drugs. He was emotionally neglectful. May have been some of the most damaging ‘parenting’. I feel so much shame about having been promiscuous. I feel terrible and disgusting about his knowledge and encouragement of it. Feels very dirty and disgusting.”
Any positive experiences with your abusers? “All of my abusers have been people I love, people who are supposed to love and protect me back. This makes it so hard to feel anger, feel validated. How can people who are supposed to love you hurt you like that? In my head, it must be my fault. There’s something wrong with me, not them. I love them, so I must be that disgusting.”
Boy, your survey is so . . . powerful, and so relatable to those of us who have experienced the kind of abuse that you’re talking about, or some abuse that is a part of the, all this stuff that you’ve experienced.
Darkest thoughts: “Leaving my husband. He is really wonderful and supportive. I want to self-destruct and walk away. I want to completely fuck up my life, do drugs and have sex with men who don’t care about me. I also think a lot about cutting up my face. I see my mother and my brother and I find it hard to look at. I also think a lot about being raped. It’s a terrible, disgusting fantasy. I know it comes from the sexual abuse and self-hatred, but I’m very ashamed of it.”
Darkest Secrets; she writes, “See above.”
Um, Sexual fantasies most powerful to you: “Rape fantasy. I can’t watch vanilla porn, only violent pornography. Makes me feel disgusted and broken, like I’m a freak.” You are not a freak.
What, if anything, would you like to say to someone you haven’t been able to? “I’d like to tell my mother, ‘You hurt me so deeply. I needed you and you broke my heart over and over again. I wish you had protected me. It was not my fault. You were my parent.’ I wish I could say to my brother, ‘You betrayed me. You took advantage of me. You broke me. You damaged me. I can never feel whole. I will always feel broken and disgusting. You deserve to feel what I feel. I hate you for taking my soul, making me feel so broken and disgusting.’ I wish I could have said these things because I want them to know how badly they hurt me, and I want to move on. I don’t speak to them anymore, and never will, because they are damaging. Right now, I wish I had said this because they hurt me so very deeply.
What, if anything, do you wish for? “I wish for self-love. I wish I could accept the kindness and positivity of others. I wish I could believe I am not a bad person.”
Have you shared these things with others? “Some things with my therapist. She is wonderful and has helped me so much. It’s incredibly painful and frightening. I’ve shared some of these things with a close friend who is also a victim of incest. She was also incredibly supportive and loving.”
How do you feel after writing these things down? “I feel stupid, broken and damaged. I feel like I’m making too much of my feelings, and I should not have shared so much.”
Wow, that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’ve experienced so much, and you’re not making too much of your feelings. You’re feeling your feelings, and that’s why this is so intense. It’s so good you’re talking about it.
She writes, “I feel like I talk too much and I’m an idiot. At the same time, I feel a little relief. It feels like I’m trying to find support in more appropriate places, which makes me feel a little proud of myself, good and terrible.”
Anything you’d like to share with someone who shares your thoughts or experiences? “Please go to therapy. Find a CBT [which stands for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy] specialist who can help you with sexual trauma. It’s incredibly hard to deal, but a good therapist can help. Find someone who you connect with and feel safe with, and be honest with them about how hard it feels.” Um, yeah . . . and that’s it. Thank you so much for sharing that. CrazyPants McGee, sending you some love.
This is a happy moment filled out by Chadwick. And he writes, “I’m a co-dependent with moderate anxiety; abusive childhood; parents/brother died when I was young; a visible minority in a very white portion of Canada. I’ve always felt that I was the square peg and the world is full of round holes. My life has been built on achievements and performance of tasks. The expectations make me spiral out regularly. About a month ago, I was on a snowboarding trip with my girlfriend and her family. They’ve all participated since they were young. I’ve been maybe 6 times, but starting to get the hang of it. On the second day of the weekend, we come to a converging portion on the mountain, and as I noticed about 100 people were coming together, I started to get anxious as to the possibility that I make a wrong move, fall down and chaos would ensue. As I began to look around, I realized I wasn’t going too slow, I wasn’t at risk of slipping or making a bad cut, and that I looked no different in any way than any of the dozens of people around me. They didn’t take notice of me for what I am; they didn’t yell or castigate; they didn’t make shallow puns or require anything of me. It was the first time in my life that a feeling of normalcy and unconditional acceptance came over me; and if but for that brief moment, I knew what it was like to feel a part of the world. It was undescribable, and I wish that everyone could have that moment at least once.”
That is beautiful. Beautiful. Thank you for that, Chadwick. That’s almost like something you’d say to your butler, isn’t it? “Thank you, Chadwick.”
This is from the “What has helped you?” survey, filled out by—I think I’m pronouncing this right—she calls herself Cranshall [sp?]. Um, her issues: “Sexual abuse starting from a young age. I was groomed and coerced into having sex with a family friend when I was around 6. Subsequently, I have a very active libido, and was raped/sexually abused as a teenager and young adult. My father was absent and I dealt with an emotionally unavailable mother who sometimes seemed to define herself to men by how loud she could be whilst having sex. Later, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, stress and anxiety disorders.”
And what helps her deal with them? “The second sexual assault pulled away my overactive sex drive. I began doing yoga and found that I was holding a lot of that trauma in my hips. I went on a yoga trip recently and whilst we were doing hip openers in class, I began crying as that trauma was released. Everyone on the retreat was so amazing, and encouraged me to release the emotions. Coming up from pigeon pose, the teacher winked at me and said, ‘Hip openers are sometimes called can openers for the emotions they bring up.’”
I’ve been thinking of going and doing that. Because I feel like something is trapped in me. Maybe that’s why I’m having so much trouble with the meds; maybe it’s a just an emotional thing more than a chemical thing—ohhhh, Paul, you are BORRRING YOURSELLLLFF.
This is a “Struggle in a Sentence” filled out by a woman who calls herself Lady Squid. And, um, about her anxiety, she writes: “The perfectionism that made me delete this response several times to make sure I sound witty enough to compare to other surveys, and the realization that I’m fucking pathetic for even caring.” Well, if it makes you feel better, I recorded three different introductions to this show before the one that I posted.
About her alcoholism and drug addiction: “Feeling a sick connection with the scrappy-looking men at the liquor store and giving them a nod when I leave with my liquid emotion-suppressor every week.” Uh, other compulsive behaviors: “Putting on makeup without fail every day, so this dried-up husk that moves can have perfect skin, big blue eyes with thick lashes and smell like Gucci perfume to mask the total rot inside.”
About experiencing sexual bias, she writes: “Fuck society for making me feel like I have to prove my sexuality is not a Katy Perry song just because I don’t look like a ‘dyke’”. About mental handicap—she has dyscalculia, umm . . . “The self-humiliation of being in remedial math classes during school when I was in advanced everything else, and feeling like a fraud when I’m praised for my intelligence.”
About living with an abuser: “I moved out 2 years ago, but when I told my mom I was going to therapy, she said, ‘Make sure they don’t focus on all that family history bullshit.’ I agree she knew best, like the obedient little girl she raised me to be.” Um . . . let’s see. Snapshot from her life: “Dad picking me up from middle school when my cutting was revealed in gym class, and him saying absolutely nothing to me. Going to the psych ward and waiting to be seen by the doctor with my equally silent mother.” Wow. Oh, and then this one—“Overly active bladder and bed-wetting. In third grade, sitting in the school nurse’s office in wet Lion King leggings, waiting for my mom to save me.”
Oh, those are heartbreaking. Those are heartbreaking. And, I mean, from what you describe, your parents had, um, who wouldn’t have issues?
Let’s see. This is a Shame and Secrets survey, and this is filled out by . . . I always bite off more than I can chew . . . actually, read. [Sound of mug being set on table]. Green tea! [Melodically sung.]
This is filled out by a woman who calls herself A Work in Progress. She is . . . straight; in her 20s; raised in a pretty dysfunctional environment; never been sexually abused, but she’s been emotionally abused. Her father was just an asshole, just a complete fucking narcissist. I’ll read some of it:
“Nothing I did was ever good enough. I was at top of my class academically and played multiple sports in high school. If I had a bad game, my dad would rail on me all night, calling me embarrassing, horrible, etc. Meanwhile, on the outside, we looked like a perfect family, and I was the perfect child. My most memorable experience happened around age 13. I was sitting in the backseat of my dad’s car with my family, and he made an angry comment and he saw me in the rearview mirror rolling my eyes, and this sent him into a rage. He seethed, ‘I know earlier that I told you that your skin was looking better, but I lied. It looks terrible; I can see all your acne.’ To this day, I have a horrible problem with skin-picking. I have generalized anxiety disorder, and I cope by picking my cuticles. In addition, if I have any type of blemish, I pick at it until my skin is flat so I can cover it with makeup. I’ve been in therapy for over a year, and am actively working on breaking this habit.”
Thank you for—and then, her darkest secret was, “My freshman year of college, I dropped one of my courses and picked up a different one. When my dad found out, he freaked out because I was no longer under his control, and was making a choice he didn’t agree with. Later that day, I was venting to my mother about this online. Suddenly, the messages I was receiving changed to ‘Fuck you bitch,’ etc, etc. Yes, my dad had looked over my mom’s shoulder and hijacked the conversation to attack me. That night in my dorm room I took a ton of Benadryl pills. To this day, I don’t know how many; I just wanted to sleep. I fell asleep for 14 hours straight.” And, I would imagine, had trouble shitting for the next 7 years. Those things dry you out so bad—at least, dry me out so badly.
What, if anything, do you wish for? “The ability to forgive my father, and to establish healthy boundaries with others in my life.” Well, I can tell you—oh! And she writes, “I’m actively working on these goals via therapy.” That’s so awesome. That’s so awesome. Hang in there. It can—and sometimes, it’s amazing when we set boundaries, sometimes people around us—that can be a catalyst for them to change, too.
This is from the “What has helped you?” survey, filled out by Mary Kat TG [sp?] And about her anxiety, depression, unresolved grief and alcoholism and what helps her, she writes: “My husband and best friends; my pets; and the honest input of young people I love.” Thank you for sharing that!
This is from the Struggle in a Sentence survey, and this is filled out by Poppet, and she writes about being on the autism spectrum: “Feeling like a total failure as a human being because I will never experience the world as the world wants me to experience it.”
This is a Shame and Secrets survey filled out by a guy who calls himself, “Can’t believe I think these things.” He is bisexual; in his 20s; raised in a slightly dysfunctional environment. Um . . . Ever been the victim of sexual abuse? He writes: “Some stuff happened, but I don’t know if it counts. I was drugged in a bar and almost raped in the restroom. A fellow bar patron happened to observe the man who was trying to remove my pants, and the stranger defended me.”
Darkest thoughts: “I hate my daughter. I feel guilty about it every moment of my life, but every time I see her or she asks me a silly question, I lose my patience. I try to actively avoid her in my own home.” That’s heartbreaking.
Darkest secrets: “I’ve slept with over 100 women before I reached 25. I’ve had random, unprotected sexual encounters with both men and women, and hate myself for enjoying all of it.” Well, I hope you’re in some type of recovery for all of the stuff—he’s also been physically and emotionally abused, and he only filled out half the survey, but I thought that stuff was interesting enough to read, even though there wasn’t more stuff.
This is a happy moment filled out by Jess, and she writes: “When I was in college, I used to feel like I had to pinch myself sometimes. I would zoom out and notice myself surrounded by interesting people laughing and joking, and at my top choice school, and just think ‘Wow. I never thought I would have this.’ Because before that, in high school, I’d been anorexic and my whole life had been like a funeral. The astonishing thing wasn’t that I was in college, it was that I was able to devote my mind and heart to subjects other than food, and actually take in what was going on around me rather than just eyeing the snacks, or furtively counting calories in my head. It would almost bring me to tears sometimes, how good it felt to be present in the moment. Nowadays, I’ve been out of that bad stuff for long enough that I don’t find it so astonishing, but once in a while the magic will return, and I’ll just be overcome with gratitude.” Beautiful. Beautiful.
This is filled out by a woman who calls herself The Worst. And, um, so you know, she’s brimming with confidence. She’s bisexual; in her 20s; raised in a pretty dysfunctional environment. Ever been the victim of sexual abuse? “Some stuff happened, but I don’t know if it counts. I think it might be one of those people with something deeply buried. I’ve been thinking a lot about this over the last year, and I think I was probably molested as a very young child. There was ample opportunity for this happening with my grandfather, who we know for sure sexualized my mother and her friends as children, as well as raping my grandmother. This possibility has only really occurred to me over the last six months of going to therapy and listening to this show; both have helped me reframe my behaviors as a kid as symptoms of problems in my upbringing, rather than some innate wrongness in me. Specifically, it made me think about how, when I was little, perhaps five or six, I repeatedly found myself acting out sexual behaviors with stuffed animal toys. While I know that that sort of exploration is very normal, I’m not sure it’s normal that these toys were always bigger than me, and I would always push their paw or hands or whatever into my underwear, pretending they were aggressively attempting to touch me there. I don’t remember understanding what I was doing, but I do remember that I did it almost every time I was alone in that room, and that I knew it was something to be very, very ashamed of. Whether or not I had anything happen with my grandfather, I’m still a little angry that my mom brought us to stay with him so many times as kids, knowing what she knew about him. She continued taking us to him, even though she once caught him showing pornography to my brother. I know she was also probably very badly manipulated by the man, but I think all our lives would have been better if she had made a clean break with him in adulthood.”
Um, she’s also been emotionally abused. She writes: “Okay, this is another realization I wouldn’t have had if I hadn’t listened to your show. My therapist has been telling me since 2013 that it sounds like I was neglected as a kid, and treated unfairly by my parents. I’ve been resisting very strongly this idea, using the old ‘roof over my head, food on the table’ sort of defenses you’ve talked about so many times. I know that I may have been a little disadvantaged emotionally, because my life was always overshadowed by my brother’s autism diagnosis, but it’s not until recently I realized that shouldn’t have taken quite as much of my childhood away as it did. I realize now that I don’t really have parents. I’ve never had a feeling of stability with them, or been able to go to them with my problems without getting yelled at or shamed. I just rediscovered my diary from when I was 11 years old, when my parents first got divorced, and it’s full of me writing about my poor mummy, and how hard I’m trying to make her feel better. At one point, I even write that apparently they have not been getting on well in the bedroom, either, and express a bit of resentment if my parents’ divorce is all about sex. I’m finally feeling the outrage that I would even be told about that when I was 11.” [Sigh.] Yep.
Any positive experience with your abusers? “I don’t know. For the first time, I don’t really feel that I do love my parents.
Darkest thoughts: “I’m scared that my relationship is doomed because I’m so desperate for attention, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop myself from cheating. I think about this so often that I’m starting to wonder if I’m just meant to be polyamorous; but then, desperation doesn’t sound like a particularly healthy reason to look into any lifestyle. It’s probably insulting to polyamory and other people in open relationships that I’m even considering myself like them.”
Darkest secrets: “This is the main reason I came here today. I need something like a confessional. I think what I did the night before last was one of the worst things I’ve ever done. My partner and I have been with our own families over Christmas, and it didn’t take me long on my own to start feeling weird and lonely and looking for pornography. Then I started looking at adult chat rooms where I could look at people’s web cams, which I’ve done a couple of times before, but I rarely say anything and, if I do, it’s pretty innocuous stuff. But for some reason, this time, I descended rapidly: first, just flirting and then talking a couple of guys off. Even in this incredibly short amount of time, I could feel something like addiction happening—all these chemicals firing off inside me the more of my own boundaries I break, and the more these random guys on the internet imply that I’m something special because I’m articulate or funny. This kind of went nuclear for me. I stumbled on this really attractive guy. I don’t really understand why he was even on there. He was beyond witty, and cute, and eloquent, and just set me on fire a little bit; and so the next night, it was pretty easy for him to convince me to do what I swore I’d never do, which was to go on a web cam and take my clothes off. I’m so fucking angry at myself, I don’t know how I can express it. I’ve broken my partner’s trust; I’ve put myself in danger; and I’ve just let myself feel so used. I hate letting myself be vulnerable to charismatic and manipulative people. It’s not like I needed the guy to want to date me or anything; I’m just resentful that I let myself be an object; that I allowed myself to believe that it made any difference who was on the screen helping this guy get his rocks off. I feel more manipulated by my own ego than anything else. It’s disgusting. What’s worse is that, because I let myself have a really fun, non-sexual interaction with this guy, too, my body has been having painful crush-like feelings for a couple of days, and that just makes me feel even worse about betraying my boyfriend, and about my inadequacy and weakness. I spent several hours last night cutting myself because I feel like such a low form of life. Why can’t I just feel satisfied with the love and stability my boyfriend gives me? What amount of affection will be enough for me to feel like I deserve to live?”
I don’t think it can ever come from somebody else. I think it’s gotta come from inside you, and I know that sounds like a cliché, but it’s the total truth. And, um, you might need to go to a support group; it might be a sex or love addiction, but it’s . . . yeah. I don’t believe it has anything to do with the person you’re in the relationship with, and I’m sure it was triggered by being around your family, ‘cause your family sounds like a fuckin’ piece of work. I mean, your mom abandoned you, leaving you alone with your grandfather, who has a track record as a fuckin’ pedophile? That’s not a small thing.
Uh, sexual fantasies most powerful to you: “It changes all the time, but it’s all about being desired, and I imagine now it’s going to be about being desired on web cam, because it’s just how my garbage brain works.
What if anything do you wish for? “Again, instant reaction; I want everyone to love me and to want to be around me, even though that would be pretty impractical in reality. The real desire under that is to be able to be fulfilled, and like who I am is enough.” Well, I think you answered your own question. Now, it’s just a matter of getting out there and working with a therapist or support group or finding some way to get that to happen.
Um, this is—but we’re sending you some love, sending you some hugs. And, by the way, I’m feeling a bit numb; so if it feels like I’m um, um, um . . . one of the side effects, possibly, of this med, or it’s just my depression, I don’t know, but I feel like, I’ve been feeling pretty robotic lately, like I could watch the saddest thing on the news and not feel anything. Intellectually, I can go, ‘Oh, that’s really sad, that’s terrible’, but I don’t—just—so if I seem a little distanced from these, I apologize. Intellectually, I’m very moved by them, but I’m dead inside, so . . . [sigh] at least temporarily, I’m dead inside. I know I’m not dead inside all the time. Um, and as much as I make fun of myself, I do love myself. Eeuucchh. Eeuucchh. Eeuucchh. Not gonna rewind it.
This is an awfulsome moment filled out by a woman who calls herself Unhappily Human. She writes: “I got a call from my therapist at the time in the middle of the night, and I let it go to voicemail because I figured it was an accidental call. When I did listen to the voicemail, it was kind of hard to hear, but she said she hoped I would pick up because she needed help with something. Because we had a weird relationship, I didn’t think too much of it, but when I texted her about the call, she apologized and came out and said that she overdosed on her medication and thought I could tell her how to make herself throw up because I was bulimic, but went to the hospital and got her stomach pumped instead. Even after this episode, which should have been the icing on the cake for me to stop seeing her, along with all the other fucked-up things she did, I continued going for a few months more until I had to take a leave from school since I saw her free at the counselling centre there. Sometimes there’s a reason therapy is free.” [Laughing a little] Thank you for sharing that.
Uh . . . let’s see. This is just an excerpt from a Shame and Secrets survey filled out by Evie May; and her darkest secret, she writes: “I blame my mother for the fact that I’m bulimic. I love her to pieces but I’m so fucking angry and sad sometimes. I’ve struggled with bulimia for the past 7 or 8 years, and it’s exhausting physically and emotionally. She was anorexic when I was growing up, and even though she is mostly recovered now, I have always had a sense of shame about my body, my wants and needs and appetite. She thinks I’ve been recovered for the past 4 years, but it’s a lie. I’m a long way from recovery. I think she knows this deep down, but is too afraid to broach the subject with me. I love you mom; you’re my best friend; but fuck you for making my relationship with food and my body such an awful mess.”
Have you shared these things with others? “I’ve spoken about my bulimia to a couple of close friends, but I have never mentioned the self-harming behaviors, or the fact that I sometimes get a sexual thrill out of vomiting until my throat bleeds. I like seeing the blood. That’s not nice, is it? I don’t think I’ll always be this way. I think I can change.” You can definitely change. You can definitely change. Sending you some love.
This is an awfulsome moment filled out by Mikey, and he writes: “When I was in my early 20s, living with my parents, I came home from working my overnight job. My grandparents were visiting for the weekend, so I talked with them for a few minutes before heading downstairs to take a nap. I decided to jerk off before falling asleep, so I started jerking away. From upstairs, I heard a horrible scream from my mother: “Michael, Michael, call 911!” I froze, because I was trying to figure out if I was hearing this correctly. Then I heard her rapidly running to my room, and she repeated the instruction to call 911. My grandmother fell outside and broke her hip. This weird moment of being startled out of masturbation by horrifying screams actually caused some mild PTSD and gave me heart palpitations for a few weeks. Zippedy-doo-dah.” [Smiling voice] Thank you for sharing that.
And this is our last Shame and Secrets survey, and this is filled out by a woman who calls herself The Dud Avocado. And, we’ve got 2 left; this one and then a Happy Moments survey. And she is in her 20s; straight; raised in a pretty dysfunctional environment; although, about her being straight, she writes: “I always knew I was gay, but was so ashamed of it I never pursued a serious relationship with a woman. The only sexual experiences I’ve had with women ended up with them either denying they had been with me, or said that I didn’t fuck like a lesbian.” As I said, she’s in her 20s; was the victim of sexual abuse and never reported it. Let’s see if I can condense what happened. Um . . . she was abused for 3 years by an older partner when she was between 15 and 18 and then she was raped in a parking lot shortly after, um, shortly before her 18th birthday; and then had a terrible experience in the court system. I’m trying to—it’s a bit of a long one, and I’m trying to condense it without leaving out anything important—but a terrible, terrible experience, having to testify. And, um, she’s been emotionally abused and physically abused.
Darkest thoughts . . . about the emotional abuse and the sexual abuse . . . the emotional abuse by the guy who sexually abused her: “My three-year-long sexually abusive relationship was also emotionally and physically abusive. I was hit in the face every day, tied up and gagged and left in a closet for hours at a time. I would be pushed down the stairs, tied up out in the wilderness while we were hiking, and dragged through poison oak. Emotionally, my relationships with men were always shaming. If my sexual and physical abuse came up, I was told that I was disgusting and a classic small-town girl to allow such stupid things to happen to me. Often, a boyfriend would tell me that he could no longer stand to touch me or look at me.”
Any positive experiences with your abusers? “When you spend so much time with a person, you pick up habits. I learned to cook from him, albeit poorly. In my 20s, when I started to cook more on my own, I became the best cook I could to show that motherfucking, cock-sucking, son-of-a-bitch bastard that I could in fact not only stir the goddamn pasta, but flambe the fuck out of anything I wanted to, and feed 18 hungry people a 4-course meal with the food still steaming. Suck my dick, you foul fuck. He also taught me how to drive.” [Laughing] Now I’m remembering this one, and why I wanted to read it.
Darkest thoughts: “Taking my buck knife (thanks for the present, dad—too little too late, but it was still a cool birthday gift—and slicing a man from scalp to asshole, alive obviously, and peeling his skin back, across his face and chest and down his arms and legs. This would be a man who has hurt and abused someone at some time in his life. I would then cut his hands and feet off with a saw, the way you cut the hooves off a deer when you skin it. I would then cover his skinless, muscle-exposed body with gasoline, light a cigarette—Marlboro Red—and set the motherfucking dipshit on fire, and then have a fucking beer. I’ve been sober for two years, but you know what? I think I could go for a frosty, dead guy ale as a special little something.”
Darkest secrets: “My abuser brainwashed me into thinking that my father and my uncles had had sex with me when I was a child. He said they had all abused me late into my adolescence. My abuser made me role-play daddy-baby scenarios and film us having sex. He would then play the tapes to me over and over again while beating me, saying that I deserved it, and was filthy, and lucky that anyone would touch me at all, so I should be thankful for what he was doing to me. I had severe night terrors and anxiety because of this. One night, when I was 16, I became so scared I went into my parents’ bedroom. My mom was away visiting her sick mother, so it was just my dad. I was so horrified to reach out for help, but I was panicked and asked to sleep in bed with him. He said ‘All right,’ and fell back asleep. In his sleep, he rolled over and, thinking I was my mother, spooned me and put his hand on my breast and the other on the inside of my thigh. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours. I was in shock and could not move. He eventually rolled away, still asleep. I’ve never forgotten that and still, 10 years later, will not allow my father to touch me. He doesn’t know why.
Sexual fantasies most powerful to you: “There’s one of two ways to swing this. The first, which is an emotional fantasy, is to have perfect, taut, sweaty, porn star sex with a man and enjoy it. Get me reversed cowgirl style, bouncing up and down on a hard cock, put some fucking hot ass shoes on me—like okay, I am so gay, laced up Doc Martens—and yank on my hair until I spray inhuman amounts of cum all over his balls. Why is this the fantasy? Because I can’t imagine actually enjoying a second of sex with a man. I’ve never orgasmed from it. Hell, I’ve never actually orgasmed at all, not once. My real sexual fantasy is to have raunchy, passionate sex with an older woman, someone who seems seriously, heinously uptight, who has a rocking body, and lets me sit on her face for something like 36 hours straight. Let’s throw in some pizza, too. God, I love pizza.”
What, if anything, would you like to say to someone you haven’t been able to? “To my mom and dad, this gun I’m holding to my temple is to wipe out the incredible mess of a life I live because you were too scared, confused and busy to stand up to me. Have you ever heard of grounding someone? Whatever angst I may have felt towards you could never equal the amount of sorrow I feel being left to my own devices. To my own abusers, the next time you spit on somebody’s asshole, it’s not going to be mine, it’s going to be your own. So you can on your thumb and fucking twirl, you sons of bitches. FUCK YOU.”
What, if anything, do you wish for? “To be able to communicate with other survivors—not victims, we are survivors. To help rehabilitate people with trauma to treat themselves with love and patience, and to live with intent and purpose. I also wish I could have a bowl of fried ice cream and bananas right now.”
Have you shared these things with others? “I’ve shared my stories with some friends and with partners. I feel that, with partners, it is a point of contention between us, and the relationship usually ends shortly afterwards. Friends usually don’t know the whole story, only bits and pieces. They feel alienated by my pain, and I feel angry that they know my vulnerability without being able to speak it.”
How do you feel after writing these things down? “Like I need to go back and expand, explain, apologize, erase, throw up my hands and say, ‘I’m just kidding!’ I feel like none of what I have said validates my sadness, explains my fear or legitimizes my deep loneliness.”
Anything you’d like to say to someone who shares your thoughts and experiences? “Please help me make the circle of violence stop here.”
And then, any comments to make the podcast better? “Yes. Get your sorry ass over to my house and give me a big fucking hug. Jesus. I was fine until now. Asking for a hug—funny how that’s what makes me cry. I just don’t feel like I deserve one.” Well, I’m sending you one. I’m sendin’ you a big hug. And it sounds like you’re in so much pain. And we hear it. We hear it and . . . we know that you’re not making it up, and you don’t need to say anything other than what you said. And this thing, I think we got a pretty clear picture that a lot of fuckin’ really painful shit has happened to you, but you can, you can and will heal if you make it your most important priority. And, um, we’re definitely sendin’ you some love. And I was really touched—and humoured—by your survey, so . . . [growly intonation with half a British accent] well done, sweet lady. [Normal Paul voice] And please, do not skin me from scalp to asshole. But if you do, carve away some of my fat. I just wanna look ripped.
And finally, we have a Happy Moment by a woman who calls herself Anxiety Monologues. And she writes: “At my church, the young adult group has monthly gatherings where we explore various difficult themes and life, and individuals are encouraged to share. They announced that the following month would be about control. I had been working on vulnerability, and every fibre of my being screamed that I needed to talk about my struggles with anxiety and my faith. I expressed my interest to the event leader, and the following month, he reached out to me to see if I was still interested. I declined and made excuses. The pastor, who also struggles with anxiety, heard about this and called me to encourage me to change my mind. I begrudgingly conceded. The following night, I sat in front of 30 to 40 of my peers, most of whom were only acquaintances, and I spilled my guts. I shared about years of frantically trying to control everything; the crushing fear that ruled over my life; and when it all came crashing down on me. I spoke of seeking healing in all areas of my life, starting with my emotions in therapy, and how much growth and joy can exist if you stop gripping life with white knuckles and let go. As I talked, I was surprised to see everyone very perceptive, accepting, nodding and some individuals even crying. Afterward, many people came up to me commending my bravery; thanked me for being so open and shared their troubles, too. One girl broke down and told me her entire story. We talked for 2 hours, and I was able to impart some of the wisdom and skills I’ve learned in therapy. I encouraged her to seek help, which she later did; and we now share our struggles and journeys regularly. That night, I felt so empowered and proud. I stepped out of the shadows and was vulnerable; and not only did those people accept me, they welcomed me with love. Now, whenever I feel like my anxiety has the upper hand, or begin to believe the negative thoughts, I think back to that night when I proved that I am strong and worthy, and I remind myself that people will love you if you let them.”
What a beautiful, beautiful happy moment to end on. And I hope you guys are reminded that there’s help if you can get out of your comfort zone and ask for it. The most important phrase I ever said in my life is, “Please help me; I don’t know how to do this.” And my life changed from that day on. And, it’s humbling to ask for help, but humility’s a good thing. I don’t know why we’re so afraid of it. I don’t look good in humility. I’m a winter. I want that joke back. I wanna press stop, I wanna rewind, I wanna go back. But anyway, I hope, after listening to this episode, you’re reminded that you’re not alone, and we’re all going through shit. We’re all going through shit, and that’s just a part of life. And, thanks for listening.
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