100 days ago, I left Sierra Vista Arizona and went home to Oregon looking for answers, while running from bikers and military people motivated by my family cult. Home is a bit of a mirage, but it is also the only home and family I know. It is difficult to remember I am living in a covert war when I am not around by my family because they have gifted me with an air of discomfort when around them. I crave this discomfort because it keeps me safe and reminds me of what’s real and true.
No matter how much I desire their love, it will always feel tainted with hate. Why do they try to repeatedly kill me? Why do they enjoy my pain? Why do they want to keep me small and sick? Why do they use love as a weapon? What have I done to them or to deserve this? Why do they seek such destruction? Why is the world so dark?
Despite having even more questions than answers, I start my journey back to Oregon again tomorrow. My family will act like they care on the surface level, but they know I am someone who believes that love conquers all. So, they use my love as a weapon. Have I ever known love to be anything else than a weapon though?
I have never known real love from a human other than my Grandma Kudearoff. However, I also realized my Mom had a trauma bond with my Grandma Kudearoff and when she died my Mom was absolutely wrecked. So, I can only assume that when my Mom dies I will be a bit wrecked myself. Not necessarily because we have had a loving relationship, but because our relationship is rooted in trauma and my longest human connection.
Their is an odd brand of safety in seeking out comfortable pain and discomfort. After realizing how upside down the world really is, I need my upside down family to make me feel okay about it. I am not someone who can just move forward after learning everything I have learned on this trip and just try to be “normal”. I cannot accept that people trying to kill me is normal, even if it has been happening my whole life.
How many other people out there are facing the reality of daily attempted murder by the ones they love? My Grandma Kudearoff begged for them to kill her, so I know I am not alone.