THE PAPER I NEEDED TO GRADUATE
THAT I HAD TO REWRITE
ON WHICH THE TOPIC WAS SALTY CRACKER DICK IN THE VICTORIAN AGE (BLAH)
AND PUMPED IT OUT IN TWO WEEKS
I GOT A MOTHERFUCKING C+ ON
I SERIOUSLY THOUGHT I WOULD FAIL THAT SHIT
BUT I AM GOING TO MOTHERFUCKING GRADUATE
I WILL FINALLY BE DONE WITH HAMLINE
I AM GOING TO GET THAT FANCY AS FUCK PIECE OF PAPER
AND FRAME THE FUCK OUT OF IT
AND HANG IT ABOVE MY TOILET
3:44 pm • 14 May 2013 • 12 notes
maybe a little more background into my id would be helpful?
I am half Ojibwe, half Russian Mennonite. I have never identified with my white side, even though I was raised primarily by my white mother. I was born in northern Minnesota on a reservation, and I lived there with both my parents until I was three.
My dad is a victim of intense abuse from his father, an unjust prison system, gangs, and a boarding school. He has untreated borderline personality disorder, which my mother did not see until my father tried to kill her and me with a fork. She left him, and spent the next 4 years trying to keep me away from a crazy abusive father, grandparents, and an equally fucked up aunt.
What she unknowingly did was disconnect me from my Ojibwe identity. She didn’t know this. Shit, she even tried to get me to be a part of the tribal community near us. That in itself was really weird, looking back. The city I grew up in was about 80,000 people with a strong and visible NDN population. It was also completely isolated from anything for about 3 hours in any direction. And I didn’t live in the city…I lived on the woods on the outside of town with my mom and brother.
I had really fucked up visitations with my dad and sister, from his first partner. I can safely say that they tried to brainwash me against my mother. Well, my father did. My sister was already a victim of him, but that’s a different story and not mine to tell in any great detail. I knew small things about my culture. I knew what some of the core traditions were, at least what they were as explained to a very young child. Through out all of this, my mom tried the best she could to enforce my Ojibwe culture. She did everything she could, including enrolling me in an immersion program a handful of times. Back then, we didn’t know that I was also sexually abused by my father and I had severe PTSD that was triggered by almost anything reminding me of him, which was pretty much anything Native. Drum ceremonies made me black out and shake. The smell of sage and the feel of tobacco gave me flashbacks of what he would do to me.
It wasn’t until I was 17 that this all came into light. I got help, I got treatment for the PTSD and related issues. It was time for me to try to heal. See, my mom pretty much tried to erase my white part of me. She thought it would help. It didn’t hurt, but it really didn’t do anything beneficial either. She couldn’t have known that either. By the time I was 18, I was feeling stronger and happier, because I was finally connecting to the core of who I am. Of who I KNOW I am.
I also know that I can’t do this on my own, by any means. I am now 22. In that time span, I’ve been seeking guidance and assistance in coming back into my community. It was going well for a while, until the last summer when I finally had someone who was pretty much my mentor. That person made me question everything I am, of who I want to be, and how I understand myself. She completely invalidated me and just chalked off anything I asked as being completely ignorant and inappropriate to even ask. How am I supposed to know that? I thought I could trust this person, I thought I could be honest enough to admit that I had stupid questions and ask them. I didn’t know about how to gift tobacco, or when it was even appropriate. This was when my “mentor” told me that I’m “not Indian enough,” “not good enough.”
So this is where I am, on the low point of a big messy rollercoaster of trying to heal. This is all just one point of a bigger picture, but I digress. This is my main identity, the center of my core. I’ve always known this, but my former “mentor” acted and reacted in such a way that I am afraid has left even more scars. It’s this person and a bunch of people I associate with them that boasts of having Red Privilege. These are the people that are leaders in my community here in MN, but also tell me I’m not enough and I will never be enough.
10:16 pm • 13 May 2013 • 11 notes
ah shit! the other one wasn’t full size. anywho. back to blingee fun
8:33 pm • 12 May 2013 • 4 notes
i’ve lost a grip of followers in the last 24 hours….
did i do something wrong? really, if i am acting in an offensive, harmful, or otherwise inappropriate manner please let me know.
11:24 pm • 30 April 2013 • 1 note
TW: ED? - Like many people, I don’t see a body that’s fat, I see a complicated history.
I have always been thick, curvy, kind of fat, whatever you want to call it. And all my life it’s bothered me. I should have been happy when I was younger, though…Because I put on about 60lbs in college. It started with anxiety and depression, and then a few traumatic events, and just downhill from there. The stretchmarks on my body, the way my fat hangs off of my arms and belly, my more exaggerated double/under-chin; They’re all reminders of some of the worst years of my life. All I see is the way I was date-raped at Theta Chi, the problems with alcohol until my sophomore year, the stress of not having a support network, depression snowballing into manic issues and BPD, and generally just not being able to give a fuck about anything.
My body is meant to be big, I get that. I’ve never been skinny, even as a kid, but I’ve never been this big either. I look at photos that other people take of me and it looks like someone I don’t know.
I am a stranger in this body.
1:51 pm • 29 April 2013 • 1 note
Here we go. I am super self-conscious about my size, and this about the only full-body pic i feel OKAYISH about.
I’ve gotten a major gym membership and I’m seeing my partner’s nutritionist. My partner has lost ~150-160 lbs in the last two years. I’m shooting to rid myself of 60-80.
1:29 pm • 29 April 2013 • 8 notes
and i borrowed my boss some clothes for a conference. when she returned them to me, she included 3 really cute new bras she picked up for me.
is that weird?
5:17 pm • 18 April 2013
Being a grownass woman on a snow day.
Because fuck you, Minnesota.
5:16 pm • 18 April 2013
so my sister who has never drank before moved to ireland. she just informed me that she got accidentally super drunk for the first time on MEAD. on FUCKING MEAD.
4:03 pm • 16 April 2013 • 17 notes
and for my followers that are actually my friends on here
i’m sorry i’ve been so absent from you all lately, especially my ndn folks. i’m really depressed and relapsing with my anxiety issues again. i’m behind in school and it’s really hurting me. i’ve also been really physically ill for the last month or so. like right now, i have such intense sinus pressure that i’m about to shove a pencil up my nose just to break my sinus cavity open. oh, and the weather in minnesota took a turn for the worse, and i actually don’t recall the last time i saw sun.
i just can’t be resilient anymore.
10:41 pm • 15 April 2013 • 4 notes
senior year has finally hit me upside the head
3:24 pm • 9 April 2013 • 1 note
Wahmahgahd head cold pt3 this time.
I blame my sinus. My stupid, broken sinus cavity ALL FROM GETTING MY WISDOM TEETH OUT.
10:50 am • 19 March 2013 • 3 notes