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About Deviant Artist RowenaFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
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:icona-raedarc: :iconravennightwish: :iconriencarnation: :iconimacrazywoman: :iconplymouthtardis: :iconavanithil:


I am a human. That means I have feelings.  I have a heart. I feel sorrow, I feel pain.  I feel sadness, I feel anguish.  For some reason, people see me as different, therefore forget that I feel these things, same as any other human.  And yes, I mention the negative only right now, but that's because that's what people tend to forget about me.  I only show the positive side most of the time, but I DO have the negative feelings. I just hide behind a positive outlook, because that is all I know.  Some say it makes me strong that I do that.  Others simply don't know there is pain behind my smile, sadness behind the sparkle in my eyes.
But there is. I'll start from the beginning.  26 and some weeks ago, a little girl was born.  And for what I have to believe was out of love for my half sister and I, we were placed into foster care.  That in and of itself is enough to teach a child to hide behind a mask if you will.  You also learn to fear that if you don't say Yessir, Yes ma'am to everyone in your life, you will find yourself in a new home.  Not knowing where you will be from one day to the next is a fear you find yourself always having even when you finally get adopted (if that happens to be the case.)
And then there are the people who are constantly barraging you with 'because you are/were in foster care you won't do this or this or this.  You'll never amount to anything.'  For me there was also the added argument of 'Because you aren't completely white, you are inferior.  You will never amount to anything.  You are dumb. You will never belong.'
In twenty six years, none of these things EVER stopped barraging me.  I was a naive little girl when I was adopted, thinking that now that I had a forever family, things would be perfect.  And for a while, they seemed to be.  Till about fourth grade.  My differences, things like being adopted, being what I fondly call a 'mutt', being Mormon, all were turned against me.  Just as I was learning to be okay with who I was, suddenly I was not.  I had no friends really due to my differences.  Lies were spread about me.  For three and a half long miserable years, I endured being a pariah, for circumstances I had no control over.  They were who I was.  And because of who I was, I ended up being afraid to go to school. I cried going, I cried coming home.  I was helpless.  And then I switched to a public school, and a whole new world opened up socially.  I might have been different, but so was everyone else.  I thrived socially.
But home was a different story.  I started feeling the pressure to do well in school.  B's weren't good enough, and heaven forbid I get anything below a B!  It meant I wasn't trying.  And well, as you probably have seen by now, I'm no writer.  D's were the order of the day for writing assignments, which every class had (yes even math).  No matter what I did, I could not write an essay for the life of me.  And then add on top of that half to three quarters of what we had to write were under timed circumstances, and I was destined to not succeed.  (Now logical/analytical things like math or some sciences, I did great in...)  And don't forget the weird Montgomery County grading system.  Frankly, it was upsetting hearing all the damn time I wasn't good enough, and not by the school either.  By my own parents.  Sure they tried writing tutors, but even they were no help.  I just don't have a brain for getting things on paper that are in my head.  Even in every day speech I have a hard time.
But then, there was the awful threat of being returned to social services if I didn't do as my parents said exactly how they wanted it.  Often it was for little things too.  Who the hell tells a kid they adopted that they will go back?  In what world is that right?  I'm sorry, its not.  Honestly, it bothered me a lot when they made those threats, and so I did it, no matter how wrong they were.  Then they started adding the little degrading remarks at the end of sentences.  Good job but … (long story short in some way they told me I wasn't good enough.)
And then came the time to apply to colleges.  I had such an outstanding extracurricular career due to Academic Decathlon and Model United Nations in large part.  I could gotten a partial scholarship to a lot of schools.  But I was only allowed to apply to the BYUs because they were Mormon schools.  To this day, I wish my parents let me choose.  In the end, of the BYU's I got into (BYU-Idaho and BYU itself)  I was only allowed to go to BYU even though my scholarship was better at BYU-I because my mother did not like the track I was accepted into.   Long story short, college was not my forte.  And it didn't help all the calls I got from my mother saying 'C?  You didn't study.'  'That's not good enough.' So on so forth.  I tried to see a therapist at BYU trying to help me figure out how to better communicate with my parents, but that was all put to shame by simple words uttered by my father 'You wasted our time and money at BYU.'  And when I told my mother about it, she agreed.
They got me a therapist starting the summer I got home from BYU, but instead of helping me, she said all my problems were my fault.  All I wanted was a way to get my parents to understand that threatening was not the way to treat me, try to tell them that telling me I'm not good enough is not how I needed to be treated.
No such luck.  At least in July of 2008, I met someone who would later (seven months later to be exact) become my husband.  We started dating in August and by October we were engaged without the ring (ring came in November).  But what really told me I had made the right decision in who to marry is the fact he stood up for me against my parents.  I have never forgotten that night, and I don't think I ever will. He saved me.
Still to this day, my parents have not learned how they treat me is not acceptable, and I cannot make them understand.  They continue to threaten me (And now my husband) with governmental agencies/law enforcement if my parents don't get their way.  They excuse their actions as something they were told by the social services to do.  And then in the end, they deny to my face that they have done these things, saying they never did it, they do not remember.  And sometimes they even try to blame it on my siblings, who I know when they know about the wrongdoing, stick up for me.  And then, whether out of guilt or because they are honestly believing they are right, they try to buy my affections.

Well the truth is, it sucks.  I'm tired of spending my days and nights crying.  I'm tired of living in fear of what they will do or say next.   I'm tired of trying to be silent and pretend it isn't happening.  I'm tired of hiding.  The time for giving them more chances to repair the damage is gone.  I have let go of everyone else who tells me I am not good enough, and family or not, I refuse to believe I am inferior EVER again.  I will always stand by my words in this poem called the fighter in me.

I'm a fighter
Always have been,
Always will be.
I fight in the open.
I fight in secret.
I fight for my friends
I fight for my family.
I fight for my religion.
I fight for my freedom.
I fight for peace.
I fight for me.
I fight because I'm weak.
I fight because I'm strong.
I fight because I'm hateful.
I fight because I'm loving.
I fight because I'm strange.
I fight because I'm different.
I fight because I'm brown.
I fight because I'm me.
I fight hatred.
I fight racism.
I fight cruelty.
I fight bullying.
I fight abuse.
I fight danger.
I fight them all.
I fight in secret.
I fight in the open.
Always will be and
Always have been
A fighter...

I once wrote a poem called Silence.  What my parents didn't know when I wrote it, was I wrote it about the agony they put me through.  I've for so long lived in a world of silence.

What if the world were silent?
No one cried,
No one laughed,
No one screamed,
No one talked.
If the world were
I know I've not written in a very long time.  For my readers, for this I apologize.  But I did write one new thing tonight for you...  Well I suppose it was for me, but I posted it here for you to read.
Well, right now, I'm especially moody as I'm 15 weeks pregnant, and still have not got over the morning sickness stage.  I really wish I would get over it.  But anyway, that's really not why I'm writing.
Chiefly, I'm writing this because I came to a decision today.  I often write emotional themed poems, as you may have noticed, and usually they are how I'm feeling at the moment.  I am a firm believer that the best poetry is that which the poet puts himself into it.  Poetry is meant to be felt by the reader, not confuse the reader.  Which is why I love Langston Hughes.  You can tell with all his poems, that there is bits of how he felt in each of his poems.  At any rate, again I'm getting off topic.  A lot of my emotional poems also have some sort of message, and I decided, its about time I actually listen to myself and start taking my own advice.
For example, I was talking with my big British brother, not for the first time, about some dramas that occurred in times past that really affected us both, and a large number of other people too.  I decided, that it was time to let myself heal, and actually show I've healed.  People often push me around, and tell me what to do, and to be honest, I hate it.  One person in particular on this site I love to write for did that, when I actually had some semblance of power.  But, I'm not going to let her ruin me any more.  Everything she told me was stupid or wouldn't work?  I'm doing it.  I'm going to prove her wrong.  And then, she can shut her face, and maybe, I'll actually get a damned apology.
Or maybe, I'll get an apology from the admin team who decided to dehorse me for no good reason, and with no warning, when I show them that I am not a damned idiot. Maybe for once, I can actually get them to see they were wrong, whatever their reason was for throwing me out the window.  Whatever it was, I don't know it, and I don't really care anymore, not beyond the point of showing them what damn idiots they are.
Anyway, end rant now.
  • Listening to: cars driving by
  • Reading: The depths of my mind
  • Watching: My computer screen
  • Playing: Pin the tail on the idiot
  • Eating: Heads of stupid people
  • Drinking: Cranberry juice or gatorade


United States
See my Back Crackin' journal entry... Then you'll understand the above pic.

Current Residence: In a world of my own making
Favourite genre of music: generally, oldies and country (but not country oldies)
Favourite photographer: Dorothea Lange and Lewis Hine
Favourite style of art: photography/poetry
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Ipod
Wallpaper of choice: something black and purple...or Nightwish
Favourite cartoon character: Scooby Doo

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IMACRAZYWOMAN Featured By Owner Apr 22, 2008
IT'S MY RUNI!!!! *huggles*
ElannaAmruniel Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2008
ElannaAmruniel Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2008
Feel free to critique, offer suggestions, agree or disagree with my opinions, and please leave a note saying what you think. I am thinking of one day being published so I want to hear from other writers and what not
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