Context
This document tells the story of how my current life has unfolded — apart from my past-life.
The early years.
There is nothing worse than the constant feeling of being misunderstood and misrepresented. On top of that, being dismissed, ignored or mocked for being the way I am.
I have never felt a meaningful or emotional connection to my peers. I give them that name for a very specific reason: I never considered them to be my parents. Real, genuine caring parents are supposed to support their child in many ways. I have no memory of that ever happening.
I had lots of toys to keep me occupied. But there was nothing there to nurture me. Many times I tried to call out for help through whatever means were available to me as a baby and child. But none were ever answered. It is as if the response was on a different frequency.
The same goes for when I tried to reach out and be loving. I was rejected or misunderstood.
To this very day, that same relationship is still filled with misunderstanding and mislabeling. The woman who birthed me still, even after 32 years — utterly fails to see me for who I really am. So when somebody or she herself says: “I love you” — I know; it is not me you love. You love the one you want me to be. That is far from true love.
That disconnect has become only larger and very toxic over time. Around 2015, I had to leave the home I lived in with them. The sheer hatred towards me and built-up anger had reached such toxic levels — that staying could have been the physical end of me. I remember the severe physical side-effects I was under while driving away from the house in a rental van I had acquired in order to relocate my belongings to a new place. I clearly remember the feeling and it was unlike anything I have ever felt before. As if something just released a lethal dose of poison into my bloodstream.
Luckily, it went away once I realized I was “free”.
Unfortunately, the new situation I moved to later turned out to be just another toxic and dangerous place for me to be. It was a form of institution that profited off of people in need. But the help I required was not of the kind they were able to provide. Instead of finding me a better place to go to, they kicked me out. I had nowhere to go. They even went as far as trying to provoke me into displaying violent behavior towards staff because that was their only legal way to kick me out. Unless they could make a case where I was framed as “refusing help”. Which in a way, I was — because they were simply not worthy.
After being kicked out, I remember calling every single real estate agent in the nearby provinces in order to ask if anyone had a place for me to rent. The answer was no. I was literally sitting on my packed belongings while making those calls.
Eventually, there was only one option left: go back to the house I came from. I had no other option. I had zero contact (for about one and a half year) with my peers. My grandfather who also misunderstood my situation, tried to stay in contact but he had no clue what was really going on inside of me. He still to this day does not understand.
Luckily, after about three months, a place was found. about 45 minutes away. That place is the place where I am writing this right now. As much as I hate many aspects of it, it is the first home in this life where I could me — without judgement or dismissive responses.
In 2025, I have lived here on my own for seven years. I have used those seven years to rebuild myself from the inside out although it was very hard at times because I was dealing with my past-life trauma triggers at the same time. But I made it very far either way.
At the moment of writing this, I am done with this place. I am ready to close this chapter and leave for good to never return again.
I made it through.
Despite all that on top of my past-life experience, I made I through the FLAK. But while I was going through it I had no reference to how much strength I had to keep flying. I thought I was just going through “life”.
In hindsight, I never saw the incredible endurance and strength I had within me. The only way for somebody to come out of that hell hole alive and kicking, must be one tough son of a bitch. And I guarantee you: I am a son of a Bitch.