#disowned

[composer-clover]

i am grieving my upcoming illusory death

counting down the days to my living funeral

where i will be as good as dead in your eyes

while i just stand here

tears, no doubt, streaming down my face

and you ignore me like a ghost

not fully dead, but in my own hellish purgatory

for not doing as you say

#dysfunctional family #disowned #family trauma #original poem #poem #poems and poetry #poems on tumblr #poetry #poets on tumblr #spilled emotions #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts #spilled writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was disowned by my family for not wanting to do weed. I then cursed their weed using a magic treasure chest.

#dream #text #March 19th 2023 #disowned #family #drugs tw #curse #magic #queueueueueueueueueueueueueue

[aceing-on-the-cake]

quotes taken from Lazarus Rises (Among Other Things) by Berklie Novak-Stolz (@icaruspendragon) and poems written by Cassemiah (@cassemiah)

#disowned #disowned by family #lazarus rises amongst other things #berklie novak-stolz #icaruspendragon

[thatsbelievable]

#Tonight’s Mood #emotions #moods #affirmations #E.M. Hasty #Disowned

[enmesheddaughterparentified]

Happy new year to everyone but shitty parents who think they need to contact their kids today. Fuck you mom.

#toxic parents #toxic family #toxic mother #dysfunctional family #childhood trauma #toxic mom #toxic relationship #estrangement #becoming estranged #disowned life #disowned

[articsmoon]

My sister found out I was emo and is trying to disown me

#my art #disowned #rawr xd #emo art #emo

[env0writes]

Deciding Embers Vol.4, 12.27.23 “This Owned”

Absence makes the heart grow stronger Or forgetful And yet when your presence lacks The tension slowly slacks And draws to unbitter, unbridled conclusions Let us making this parting official Striving towards that strength

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist!   Photo by @mynamemeanscloud

#writeblrcafe #poeticstories #poetryportal #twc #spilled ink #wutispotlight #writtenconsiderations #alt lit #burningmuse #deciding embers #deciding ember vol. 4 #december #short poem #disowned #love #love quotes #christmas poem #env0 writes #poetselixir #poetswhisper #my poetry #poem #poetry

[cassemiah]

"Are you okay?"

the cashier asked me, "not really I've been disowned by my family"

"but I've still got work to do so thanks for the coffee"

#disowned #family dysfunction #poetry #spilled poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #spilled words #spilled emotions #poem

[karrenseely]

Swings

My mood has been swinging between okay and depression and anxiety today. Back and forth, back and forth and all around in a chaotic spin. I had hoped I would be feeling much better by now with all the treatments I've been getting... but at the most all I can say is I'm not suicidal anymore.

I've only ever been truly happy once in my life that I can remember. It was the year I graduated college. To me, happiness is contentment. And I was content that year. I felt good. It was a foreign feeling to me, but I basked in it. It lasted for months, though I'm not sure how long beyond that. I worked, I spent time with friends and chosen family. The pain and horror I went through growing up didn't seem to dominate my experience at that time. I don't know why I felt so content then. But I'm glad I did. I'm glad I got to experience that at least once.

I look at young trans folks today and read many of their stories and experiences and it's so different from mine, but in a good way. They talk about experiencing gender euphoria, as actual full blown euphoria when they get to be themselves. It is absolutely wonderful to see. It makes me think about the times that I experienced that. And it's hard to remember. I'm sure it's there, but mostly what I remember isn't euphoria so much as relief, or other times when I just felt shame, or felt like a pervert for trying to be myself.

I can remember shopping w/ an ex-girlfreind before I transitioned and being absolutely terrified, and feeling so much shame. Unfortunately she didn't seem to really understand why. I remember thinking she was exasperated with my fear, but I honestly don't know if she was. I spent some time with her that semester... but then I don't know what happened, but she wasn't part of my life anymore. I can only remember two other times that I spent with her. The first was coming out to her, and her laughing at herself because two of her boyfriends ended up either gay or trans. And the other was about starting a sorority that was inclusive... Even though she wanted me there, I felt like an outsider.

I still believed the narrative I'd been fed by transphobes at the time that I was a fraud, that I was a boy who just wanted to be a girl, but wasn't actually a girl. And so I was terrified of being in female only spaces, even something as vaguely female only as a women's clothing store or in a girl friend's room with other girls. I don't think anyone I was friends with knew at the time that I needed someone to sit down with me in that space and say in a very compassionate way"you're a girl hon, you're supposed to be here, say it with me, you're a girl and there's nothing wrong with you being here. You're a girl, not a pervert."

I never had anyone tell me that I had been a girl all along. Not one person, until years later when I was reading Sophie Labelle's assigned male comics where she introduced the concept to me, and I finally understood. Yes. I'd always been a girl, I'd never been a boy, I had to pretend to be one, but I'd never actually been a boy.

I honestly don't know if it would have really helped to hear all those words, to have someone tell me truly in a completely heartfelt serious manner that it is okay for me to be in those spaces, that it was ok for me to shop for clothes, to use the restroom. But I think it would have. I know friends told me it was ok and that I had nothing to be afraid of, but it always felt to me like they were just saying that to humor me. I'd been conditioned too long and too well to think I was anything but a freak at best, and to expect the worse. And I think a lot of it had to do with I didn't understand that I'd always been a girl. Even now, I get nervous in women only spaces, not nearly as much as I used to, but there is still that part of me that's afraid someone is going to call me a pervert and that I don't belong.

I remember feeling joy sometimes, like at a dance that was organized for us queer kids because we didn't get to be ourselves and/or take the person we actually loved to prom. I remember having a blast dancing with my girlfriend of the time. It is a good memory.

I recall lying in my friend's arms as she held me one afternoon on the couch. Just holding me, it felt so nice. I felt so loved and accepted. She is still one of my best friends even though we don't talk much now. I'm lousy at long distance relationships.

When I lost my childhood counselor and realized if I was going to get to be me, I was going to have to do it all on my own. I sought out a trans friendly psychologist. I told her my name was Karren and she used it from then on, and it felt so good to hear that. To hear someone use my name when they referred to me. It also felt strange because no one had ever done that before, outside of myself in my head.

Unfortunately, most of what I recall of transition, is survival. I'd been disowned, I had no family to fall back on or help me. It was about making sure I had a roof over my head, that I had a job. All the while I was grieving over the loss of everyone I had ever loved, the only home I had ever known. There was the constant fear that I would be on the streets. There was the devastation and hurt I felt when a friend who'd let me stay with her and her mom over the summer accused me of using them, and told me to leave a month before school started. I had spent that time starving because I felt so guilty about her taking me in and using her resources, that I was taking their food and not giving anything back, but grieving so much because I had just lost everyone I had ever known and loved and having so much trouble functioning. I tried to find work that summer but I had zero luck. Not surprising given I was trans, I hadn't legally changed my name yet, and I looked very androgenous because I hadn't fully started living as myself. No one wanted to hire a freak like me. And so I had to find a new place to crash until I could get back on my feet. It was terrifying, and just months after I'd been disowned, here I was losing another safe place.

And that is what I tend to recall, the constant struggle to survive and stay off the streets, to be safe. The constant fear that someone else was going to kick me to the curb. To make matters worse, for my memory anyway, I was dissociating heavily throughout that time and only have a few memories of it. I remember shopping for my first work dress when I finally did get a job as myself. I really loved that dress, a long dress in dark navy blue w/ pink flower print. It was a wonderful dress and it was mine, and I felt I looked good in it.

The day that I changed my name legally, was odd but good. The court official called my deadname, and I had to stand up in front of everyone and answer to it, in my lovely dress. It was terrifying as the process forced me to out myself to everyone in that courtroom, to everyone that was waiting for their turn to stand in front of the judge. But the judge himself was kind. He had kind eyes, and asked me gently if I was sure this was the name I wanted. Then he asked me if I really wanted two middle names, as most people only have one. I said yes I was sure, with a smile because I felt like he cared (I've always had two middle names, but that's a different story). And so he declared my new name as my legal name. And I left that courtroom very happy.

It was very apparent at the time to my coworkers when I finally did land a job that I was very poor. For several weeks I showed up to work in the same dress, day after day. It was all I could afford for nice clothing (I'd grown up in an upper middle class household, I didn't even know cheap thrift stores existed, much less how to shop in places like that that had minimal organization, they were always overwhelming to me. Looking back that makes sense given my ADHD diagnosis many years later). One of them, a wonderful caring young woman, donated several of her old outfits that she didn't wear to me. I was so grateful to her, it was wonderful and amazing to me that she did this. Even though those clothes weren't typically my style, I wore them to work because they were mine, and it meant the world to me that she had given them to me. Also it meant I could wear something other than the single dress I had.

I had to teach myself so many things about being a woman. I didn't have very many female friends yet, and the ones I did have, I was scared to ask these things of them, for fear they'd see me as even more of a freak than I already was (yay hyper-independant trauma response <note sarcasm>). So I taught myself how to do basic makeup. How to do a french braid, that one felt really good to learn, I always wanted to have a french braid. Growing up my sister was in marching band and had to put her hair up for every performance, and often this was in intricate french braids, crowns, and I so wanted to learn how to do that, never did beyond the simple french braid. Never learned how to do just a simple braid on myself well to this day. Ironically, doing the french braid part I find easier, braiding my loose hair that hangs down my back is incredibly hard for me.

I taught myself how coordinate outfits. Though accessories remained a mystery to me for the most part. And somehow, unconsciously, I taught myself how to speak in a way that wouldn't get me misgendered on the phone. How I managed that is still a mystery to me, as to this day I still hate my voice.

The day I woke up from surgery, the first feeling I remember when I could feel that those horrible genitals were no longer there was complete and absolute relief. I cried in relief. Then the nurse and doctor talked with me about how to care for myself, and reassured me that everything was normal. They discussed that my vagina should feel like any other vagina, and had me feel my own, and when I did, I was ecstatic, because they were right.

So I guess there were times I experienced joy in getting to be myself, but it feels like most of it was clouded by grief, pain, guilt, fear, and trying to survive.

So I read these accounts of young trans people's experiences today and I am so happy for the positive experiences they relate, that their are so many young trans people now who get a chance to be themselves, who aren't forced to go through the horror of the wrong puberty. It is amazing, and yes, I envy them a little, with their supportive families, supportive friends. But I'm very happy for them, all the while wishing my family would have been that supportive, that they hadn't put me through the torture that they did and had just loved me and supported me. It's a very had thing to bare, knowing your parents never actually loved you, and wanted you dead. It is a very hard thing.

All the while I am still very aware of how very many trans kids out there who are living a similar experience to mine, whose parents don't support them, who are just trying to survive. Knowing how close I came to not surviving, I often find myself wondering how many of those youth suicides are LGBT+ kids who couldn't be themselves, and couldn't survive. It hurts knowing there's even one trans kid like this, much less the multitudes that there actually are. I wouldn't force that experience on my worst enemy, much less a child. It is why I still dream of creating an LGBT+ halfway house where kids can be themselves, be loved, accepted, and supported. Hopefully someday I'll be well enough and together enough to make that happen.

#lgbt #lgbt+ #lgbtqia #trans #trans kids #transgender #gender #gender identity #queer #LGBTIA+ #Gender Euphoria #Survival #Joy #Trans Joy #Gender Dysphoria #dysphoria #Homelessness #Disowned #Family #Grief #mental health #Depression #Anxiety #KarrenSeely

[muttgirl]

Someone tell that teen girl running away from her broken home that she might run away from the next set of arms that will take her. When she leaves that new broken “safe” place please tell her she isnt the common denominator of all the chaos in her life, she feels that way all the time. Let her mourn the life she never had. Hold her in her grief. One day she will see the life she gave herself the opportunity to have and thank you.

#mine #delete later #trauma vent #trauma poetry #teen runaway #estranged #actuallyestranged #disowned #runaway tag #vent post #vent poetry #running away from home #ragamuffin #actuallyabandoned #actuallyabused #runaway teen #ventcore

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I got disowned.

#dream #disowned

[aceing-on-the-cake]

CW: Religious Trauma, Disowned by Parents, Familial Abuse(disownment), SI mention, generalized angsty rant

I go through life a lot not thinking about the fact that like I've gotta form an entire support network from the ground up because of being raised in a cult. Like most people when they get kicked out from their house for being queer they have *some people*. Maybe it's extended family, aunts, uncles, grandparents. Maybe it's like a friend group. Maybe it's the friend's parents who are like your surrogate parents already. I don't know. But it's someone. They have people. They have base connections already with which they can make more off of.

But I just, don't.

I left a cult and lost every parent. I lost every sibling. I lost every surrogate aunt, uncle, and grandparent because I already didn't have actual extended family. I lost every friend I'd ever had. I. Lost. Every. Person. I. Knew.

And yeah, you can make more. That's the beautiful thing about humans, they grow and they heal no matter where you put them.

But it takes time, and that's time spent floundering around in my early twenties making stupid mistakes that cost me a lot because I don't have the parents to bounce things off of. That means trying to make friends and coming up with a total of 1 or 2 because all the normal times people made friends, school, college, etc, I was in, a fucking cult.

And like, I keep going. I live by a fuck it you thought I'd off myself out here and so I refuse to ever do so even when I was literally alone. I am out here pulling myself forward inch by inch with coffin-fucking-bloody hands (TM Berklie Novak-Stolz) and I move on and I live and I forget and it doesn't come up every single day of my life that I'm alone, even now, I'm so more alone than a human is supposed to be. I am making a found family but that cannot replace the grandparents I am supposed to know, the aunts and uncles I am supposed to be able to connect to, the parents I am supposed to be able to turn to. It helps, god does it fucking help, but you can't replace those things. And if you can, I have not figured out how.

#tw cult #tw religious trauma #religious trauma #dysfunctional parents #dysfunctional family #disownment #disowned #queer #lgbtq #lgbt #trans #transgender #found family

[the-rocket-scientist]

Luke 10:18 — [Jesus] replied, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.”

The papers I used, guess what. Pencil lines do not erase properly. So I was forced to do this drawing without a sketch right away with markers and then colored pencils for color. luckily I had reference though.

Unluckily perspective looks bad and gawd damn the wings are fricking plastic, I even studied how wings work and this is what my lack of skills do to me—I’ll hopefully do better next time.

#bible verse #satan #lucifer #disowned #God has son #He’s angsty and a demonic teenager #“you’re grounded now gtfo of heaven”

[butchrat]

"I grew up very alone, this is not something that'll vanish but when I'm drinking tea with you it matters less" found family, friendship

Harry styles

Alden Nowlan

Nana Grizol

Noor Hindi

Trista Mateer

Eve Lion

Mary Oliver

Hanya Yanagihara

#growing up #friends #found family #abusive parents #disowned #my friends are far away but I still wear their clothes and call them on calendar holidays #web weaving #lesbian #wlw #poetry #lgbt #music #words #gay #art #poem #trista mateer #mary oliver #hanya yanigahara #sad #Yearning #hope

[enmesheddaughterparentified]

Currently collecting evidence of my mom trying to sabotage my life because I'm tired of stooping to her level but still want evidence in case she just doubles down instead of letting me go

#childhood trauma #toxic parents #toxic mother #toxic mom #toxic family #dysfunctional family #toxic relationship #disowned #disowned life #estrangement

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

Winter Whumperland 3

((content warnings: homophobia))

promptspiration: @amonthofwhump Winter Whumperland Day 3: Disowned

Whumper: parents Whumpee: Draco Malfoy whump type: angst fic type: post-Hogwarts AU

words: ~1000

-------------------

Once upon a time, Death Eaters had been Draco's biggest problem.

He supposed, in a way, they still were. He wouldn't have this problem right now if Bellatrix and the Dark Lord hadn't been rifling through his mind, taking whatever they wanted and using it against him. 

During Occlumency training, Bellatrix had figured out that, inasmuch as he had any interest for anybody in that kind of way, which frankly wasn't all that much, it was for other wizards, not witches like he was supposed to. She more or less kept it to herself for that year, but as soon as he failed to kill Dumbledore, once it was clear that he was disgraced and fair game, it was open season on all his secrets and insecurities, and everyone knew. 

The Death Eaters called him a girl, called him a fairy — those pretty but vain and useless little creatures, good for nothing but decoration. It was a lot to constantly be hearing, but it was… whatever, Death Eaters were awful, it was nothing new. He could live with it. 

But it didn't end when the Death Eaters were gone, because his parents knew. And he couldn't deny it. 

And now he was sitting on a bench in the Hogsmeade garden, looking at the valley, literally without a knut to his name. 

His thumb ran over his bare finger. That motion would normally be spinning around the signet ring he'd worn since he was thirteen; he hadn't even realised how often he did that until it became this constant reminder that he didn't have it anymore. He looked down at his hand, then crossed his arms to try to stop himself from doing that. 

His father wasn't really the problem… He was a problem, but they could have worked something out. His father was mostly concerned with not having the family embarrassed, and having an heir. As long as he kept up appearances, it could have worked. His father wouldn't have respected him, but… he was used to that.

But his mother… that look of utter disgust… 

He roughly wiped his cheek to pretend there was nothing there and tried not to remember it. 

He had more pressing problems, and he tried to focus on those. Like where he was going to sleep, for one. Or how he was going to eat. Magic could do a lot; if he absolutely had to, he supposed he could go transfigure himself a shelter out of a tree, as vile as that sounded. But it couldn't make food that would keep a person alive. 

If he had even one person he could go to…

But he didn't. Snape was… gone. Crabbe was dead and Goyle was in prison. Pansy hadn't had a kind word for him since Dumbledore died, and Theo literally hadn't spoken to him since that time. He didn't have any extended family closer than about fourth cousins, and at that point you could just show up at any Pureblood family's house and claim relation, and that wasn't going to get him anywhere. He didn't even have a loyal house elf. It was just him.

Society wouldn't want anything to do with him. He was a disgraced Death Eater, pardoned but not forgiven. He had only to see the way people looked at him to know that. The most charitable expression he got from anyone was pity, and that was almost as bad as the disdain. He couldn't look for any help or charity — again, as vile as that sounded — or even a break. There were no opportunities for him unless he found a way to make one.

He'd have to find work, but… he didn't know how. He'd never thought about it. No one with his surname had been employed in over five hundred years, and even then, it was by choice. He'd put no thought into it in school; school for him was meant to be a place to make connections, and that clearly hadn't worked out. He didn't even have the exam scores to go look for decent jobs cold; he hadn't gotten his N.E.W.T.s, more occupied with trials and Death Eaters after the Battle at Hogwarts. And honestly… he probably wouldn't have gotten any if he'd sat the exams. He'd stopped caring about schoolwork the moment his father was arrested and 'real life' began. He'd dropped most of his electives so he could focus on trying to kill Dumbledore, done the minimum for work, and even entirely stopped attending the classes he could get away with in seventh year, while the school was occupied. It was too late in the year to try to register to go back for another year to get them… and even if he could, he wasn't sure he could tolerate another year trapped in that school, where everyone hated him and everything had been terrible for years. And he didn't think they'd allow him back anyway.

He could see the school from where he sat, on the other side of the lake, looming over the valley. It only looked forbidding. 

His finger tried turning his ring again, and he closed his eyes. 

This was too much. Everywhere he turned was another wall turning him away. If he just had one opening, one chance… But no, it was all just piling on top of him. He couldn't handle it all. He wished he had some Draught of the Living Death so he could just sleep and it wouldn't matter anymore. 

He wished there was a spell to fix himself. Make him right, so he could go home, and his mother wouldn't look at him that way…

--tbc?--

#whump writing #winter whumperland #amow winter whumperland 2023 #day3 #disowned #not a prompt whumpitlikeyoumeanit #whumpitlikeyoumeanit wrote it