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EdieMammon — Your Poison Of Choice COMIC chapter 2 part II
Published: 2014-01-26 04:10:15 +0000 UTC; Views: 4343; Favourites: 29; Downloads: 6
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We're your family now.Update: You guys appear to really like this one. It's the most viewed panel as of today (February 7th). That just gives me hope.
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Comments: 27
Aww, that means I'm doing my job
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But.....but....okay if you're doing you're job......
And he gets out
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Then God have mercy on us all.
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After loving the fanfic you wrote I am looking forward to the comic OvO!
Though poor Iggy 
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Well, thanks; I didn't know you had read my fic! I always love getting comments; who doesnt? 
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wish he would jump out of a cake on my birthday
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huh? i just said that this is inspiring me a little and it also reminded me of a fanfic i read
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It was the Oh, God thing. People so rarely elaborate their comments so I get curious.
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ooohb pfff i realized that i was reffering to my last comnent im stupid
i liked it the reason i said oh god was because of the writing its scary but in a good way. im trying to write that way again
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Poor little Iggy! He has his reason to be afraid!
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No wonder he wants to hurt himself... Out of defiance perhaps?
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Desperation, pain, anger...
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How about discipline?
I once cut myself with a pair of fingernail clippers to give myself a wound to remind me to open the bedroom curtains in the morning so I wouldn't miss out on another meal for forgetting to do that. It actually felt strangely good to break the skin, given the angst I was feeling; I would have all but severed a finger to get away from the Bitch. Later I tried cutting myself with a piece of sharp plastic to make myself study. I was too much of a wimp to break the skin though, and eventually I decided that punishing myself that way would only decrease my study concentration, plus I might end up liking it too much for it to be a real punishment. If only there was something like an antibarking collar that instead reads your mind and zaps you when it wanders so that way you would be conditioned to concentrate, would work so much better than speed...
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Regardless of reason, it can spiral out of control fast. My arms and wrists are a testament to that. I started when I was 12. Before that I used to choke and hit myself, as if I didn't get enough of that from my parents. I described this in my fic as well, the relief and how nice it is to feel in control of something. Especially when you live day in and day out in an environment where everything you do is under constant scrutiny. Either in Hell at home or in Hell at school.
Actually I think you were conditioned into punishing yourself, the way a lot of kids in loveless authoritarian environments do. Even if you're offered kind words you're hesitant to accept them, because you know two seconds later you're gonna get your head bitten off for forgetting to put your shoes on the right rack.
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School was actually a vacation in Disneyland compared to being at home. The Bitch eventually figured that out and started locking me in my room on school days as punishment.
And let's not forget the time that my self-injury was actually sanctioned by her, that is, to cut my nails all the way to the cuticle because she flipped out if she saw any white part, which forms from the clear part lifting away from the skin after you cut all the white part off... If I had known better, I would have gotten a knife and slashed myself a deep one so that she would have no choice but to send me to the psych ward, which would only be slightly less MORE accommodating than living with her, and I would tell them all about her so that she wouldn't be allowed to keep my sister and I anymore. Though I seem to heal from wounds quickly, Lindor bit me hard enough to take a bite out of me when I took him out for his birthday, it swelled and a week later there was no trace of it left.
Yes, I was made to feel genuinely guilty about lyin or stealing from the 'saint' that fed me (less nourishment than one can find daily in a Taco Bell dumpster) and gave me a place to sleep. I never snuck into the food, although the Bitch was convinced we were stealing the cookies she had counted, and my sister broke down and started digging into food later although she never got caught or blamed for stealing anything that she actually WAS stealing. Slave labor was just repentance for staying with someone for free, and I defended her and viewed her behavior as tough love and did everything I could to be normal and a part of her family and save her money. My extended family was in denial; when my grandfather came to visit, his wife thought the Bitch to be a complete angel, and called us 'good eaters' when we scarfed down the frozen pizzas they heated up in the motorhome for us and asked for more.
You may have noticed that I am reticent when it comes to expressing emotions, in particular gratitude and other such 'mushy stuff'. I hesitate to say thank you or make superficial small talk to cheer people up or say other nicey nice things because it feels artificial coming out of me, even if I mean it. I was always told that I was an ingrate growing up and if I apologized I was told I didn't mean it. Maybe I didn't at the time. I was a selfish child, more interested in material things than people... The grieflike tragedy I experienced losing a cherished toy, like I lost a cherished friend...
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You don't want to hear that what you did was good or bad, but what makes it good or bad. It's extremely common in people with a history of not being able to trust anyone.
The thing about the disciplinarian approach is that it has no benefits, especially when applied by foster parents, and not to the child, teen or young adult on the receiving end. That's because caretakers very often confuse tough love with authoritarianism and forget the "love" part, because they're either lacking an emotional connection or they can be cruel and or stupid. I'd say they're all prerequisite of the mix-up. and the devastating effect it has on the often powerless individual who has to sit and take it. You and I however understand that not only deadbeat parents can be bad ones. Deep down you knew your guilt was groundless, because foster parents don't ever take in children out of the goodness of their hearts. I did a random Google Images search for "abusive foster parents" and the mug shots and also normal pictures taken of foster parents who were convicted of abuse made me wonder what kind of blithering idiot would put these in charge of children. They all look like retarded Criminal Minds unsubs. I know I'm not supposed to judge a book by its cover, no matter how petty and malicious it looks, but man!
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I would have been better off with my deadbeat parents, at least they would lie in bed wasted instead of stopping me from going to the library to check out physics books to study to make a project that would destroy the scibrats. You will almost never see a rich or even upper middle class person taking in foster kids. Doctors have no incentive to take in somebody else's ill-behaved and likely genetically inferior child, and and it's far more fashionable for celebrities to rescue starving-to-death children from Africa.
I found a recent photo of the Bitch and her entire family on her daughter's Facebook. My sister (the only picture I could find of her anywhere) was hidden behind the Bitch's enormous eleven year old eldest great granddaughter. Her mother was sixteen when she had her, and had four other ones to two different fathers. The Bitch is now a great grandmother nine times over (three more than when I left), at the ripe old age of 69. She is a ugly lesbian bingo granny with an enormous beer gut, who acts like she knows everything (she repeatedly said "I have FORGOTTEN more things than you ever know") ... looking back, I gave her way too much credit. She is borderline retarded when it comes to things like math, critical thinking, grammar, spelling, overall knowledge and understanding... but for all her intellectual degeneracy, she sure knew how to manipulate children and fool social workers, who overall are very disconnected with the people they work with anyway (my current social worker's underestimation of my overall level of functioning may be the only reason I will get SSI).
The Bitch was not bad at all when we first went to live with her. Getting to eat brand name food and play video games and whatever presents we wanted off of eBay (one of the things she is an expert at!) sure beat what we had at Polinsky, even if she occasionally threatened to send us back or called us ungrateful for not immediately saying thank you for the gifts we got (my sister said that the other Kirby game she got was not the particular one she asked for, did not mean to indicate that she didn't want it, and the Bitch blew up over it)... but we kept quiet, since we did not want to go back to Polinsky, and as time wore on and we got older and the social workers' leash on her loosened, she got slowly and subtly worse and worse... think live lobster in a slow heating pot of water.
She started having us do chores, sometimes as punishment, such as clean up dog poop which is something her granddaughters never bothered to do after we left. Or dig a hole, just pointless stuff. It wasn't even the having to do chores that bothered me so much as her fussy insistence on doing a 'thorough' job, which puts stress on us for worrying if we misssed a bit of dog poop or being called lazy for not sweeping the porch enough even though it's just fine by a sane person's standards. She said the chores were to teach us 'work ethic', but if anything it killed my work ethic because it teaches you that there are no rewards in hard labor, and nowadays I can't even be bothered to organize my room.
I felt too much guilt about lying to her but I got in trouble for whatever she construed as a lie anyway, like when she asked me what bus stop I got off at I pointed and said "that one over there" There were three bus stops over there, all right next to each other, but she only wanted me to get off at the one that was the very closest to the house and called me a liar since her daughter saw that I got off at the one that was next closest, since it's hard to make the bus driver stop at the right one, and I had no intentions of deceiving her when I said that, just wasn't thinking about what she meant...
I would forget things, and as I explained to her, if I knew WHY they were necessary I could remember them better. "Because I said so" is not a valid argument, and if I tried to reason with her, or if I pointed out a flaw in her logic, the lowbrow brute smacked me. She had autism confused with mental retardation, and doubted I could handle harder schoolwork, said you can't be a genius if you don't get straight A's, and always told me 'don't do your own thinking you're not capable' but deep down she knew that I was TOO smart, and she couldn't let me know that, even though my mom called my sister and I geniuses growing up (but who cares what she thinks nobody takes her seriously), even though the teachers said I was bright enough to be a heart surgeon or a mathematician. I probably could have demanded more challenge while I was in school, but I was shamed even for being so arrogant as to think I could handle advanced placement classes. Like I said, I gave her, and too many other idiots far too much credit. From now on, I will not allow anyone under my watch to get away with gratuitous stupidity, whether they be spoilt rotten scibrats or uneducated white trash scum.
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