The Stepmother.

It was always suspenseful coming home and seeing the light in the family room on, cause that meant she was in there. Even if she wasn't doing anything or whatever it was always scary. She was always emotionally intense with clear facial expressions and that caused overwhelm. In terms of school she always made me try her own plans/structures to get me back on track, her stern tones of voice always triggered urges to harm her to release anger or overwhelm, in all the moments I recall her inflicting trauma into me I know that control was apart of them, even if it was just a little. Like, her continuously trying to put me in a bubble, it was terrible and I hated it. She kept saying that she knew me, but I never opened up to her. She expected me to call her my mother and she said introduced herself as my mother to everyone we didn't know while knowing that I never liked her saying that. She even said that she knew I didn't like it but that she was gonna do it anyway. My mother's still alive, and I still talk to her, I talk to her so much. My mother knows me. I'm definitely wondering what she really expected.

I never felt anything towards her, it was always a hollow feeling anytime she said she was proud of me or said that she loved me. Especially during her and father's wedding when she said her vows to me (or whatever that was). I was 8 and I felt nothing but awkwardness, and I was so hyperaware during that time that I, one, had no idea how to react, and two, it felt weird and embarrassing. But fast forwarding to the current time, I remember me feeling suspenseful of her touching me while she was talking with her hands, so I thought something along the lines: "you disgusting human". Now, rewinding back to those urges, they were really strong. I know when I had such a strong urge to throw her down the stairs or bang her head against the wall there were tears in my eyes cause I was holding back so much, and this was in 7th grade, so I was 13-14. But I didn't do anything cause I didn't wanna wake father up, that was the only reason. The reason I was having such a strong urge was because I decided to wear one earring to school again but she caught me and forced me to give her my earrings and strongly yelled at me saying "GIRLS! DONT! DO! THAT!". Years later I told her about it and she said she just didn't want me to get bullied at school and cause I kept bringing that up so much she decided to apologize, but she sounded like she was just going with it, cause she didn't go into detail about anything, she just said "so I apologize for that", but it just didn't sound sincere. None of them felt or sounded genuine—like she knew what she did. Of course she wouldn't know the impact/after affects of her words and actions but she has to at least be aware of her intensity and my reaction. She didn't even say she didn't remember the earring scene, so like, is that how you'd really talk to your f—king "daughter"?

She invaded my f—king privacy when I was younger too, I remember her looking at the closed letter my best friend gave to me because it was in my bag and she didn't know what it was, but my name was on it and I was downstairs with her so she definitely could've asked me about it if it was really that serious. Which it wasn't. When my door was closed it meant I was changing, and my door was closed, so I was changing, but after I told her that I was wearing a tank top she goes "I'm your stepmother!" Like that means anything at that point. My biological grandmother said she used to help me bathe when I was really young but that doesn't mean I feel comfortable with her seeing me naked now. Everything she did got me a step closer to what I'm like now, I don't think she can call me disrespectful. I met her in my house. I was young, and I peeked in the kitchen in curiosity. I wondered "who is this?" And father saw me, told who she was, and asked if I could take a picture of them together on my Kindle(tablet). I still didn't know who she was. During the wedding and her saying those words, I still didn't know who she was. That went on for years and to this day I still don't know who the f—k she is. Now imagine a stranger talking to you, yelling at you, saying things as if I'm obligated to open my bedroom door or to wear makeup to MY school dance just because "oh you look like a young lady!" Or "let me have this!" Even though all I asked was to take it off. That was eighth grade. We were getting promoted to high school a few days after that dance, and it was quite nice. I got to go to a pancake place with my mother and first-cousins. But fr who the f—k is she? I don't know her, but I know her face. You have no idea what I want to do to that face.