Not child abuse

 Let’s start with one of my favorite excerpts that I got to enjoy while going through court records last month.

Anyone that has followed this page from the beginning knows that my father had lots of “fiancees” “baby mommas” whatever you want to call them. There was never NOT a woman “seriously” dating him. There was also never a lack of other women around in general. To this day, I’m not entirely sure I know how many children he has, or how many we don’t know about. 

(Which by the way, is exactly why I won’t ever do one of those DNA kits).
I don’t have the mental capacity to know who else was wrapped into all of this without my knowledge (and maybe without theirs).

Let’s not go ruining innocent people’s lives when they find out their father was a psychopathic arsonist.

But this quick clip is a court document where my “step mom of the year” was testifying that I wasn’t being abused.

Wasn’t.
Being.
Abused.

“Gives her chores around the house for days at a time when he is angry with her.”
(I was 9-10 by the way.)

“Sent Katharine from a restaurant because she wasn’t cutting her lettuce correctly.”

“Told her to shut up when the child was excited about a school event.”

My favorite personally…

“Shoved food into Katharine’s mouth until her cheeks were bulging because she was not eating. The food had been sitting around for awhile and the child threw up all night.”

Let me be clear. 

As a mother. 

And a step mother.

If my significant other threatened my children or put my children in danger…I would get myself killed protecting them. There is not a single thing on this planet that could stop me. And to be clear…since none of my step moms really understood it…

That includes my daughter.
The one I took on the second I dated and married her father.

I didn’t get that. I was disposable to every single one of those women. I was a babysitter and “his daughter.” I had all of the responsibility for my younger siblings…but none of the protection and unconditional love I deserved from the adults.

The more I look back on it and think about how hurt I was and how hard I tried to make everyone happy…the angrier I get.

I was actively drowning…and they were critiquing my swimming.

At least it wasn’t “child abuse.”

 

Hi, I'm Katt the cactus

Just occurred to me that there are going to be new people on this page that haven’t followed my story over the last 15 years. So let’s do a little introduction here (you can also go back and read posts if you want…I’ll link some here to help you navigate the “big stuff”).

My name is Katt.

I’m a mom to 6...
and the daughter of a psychopathic drug addict (literally).

Wildly long story condensed into a few sentences:

• I lived with him on and off for 15 years.
• He loved drugs…and loved getting women pregnant.
• He was a stalker, he was abusive, and he was also the nicest guy you had ever met.
• I am his only child that spent any actual time with him (despite my mom spending decades fighting to save me from the crazy).
• He died in prison, after setting his girlfriend’s house on fire (his girlfriend…who was barely older than me).

I’ve seen some shit I wish I hadn’t. I have been through stories that people assume I am making up. But I recently got ahold of most of the records from back then, which prove everything I have been saying for years. 

They also expose a lot of people for exactly who they are…enablers of abuse.
Abusers themselves.

I got sick of fighting like hell for my own mental health, while the people that hurt me got to walk around guilt free behaving like nothing happened…or acting like I was being “dramatic.”

I’m done with that. 

So I finally started the book I have been spitballing for as long as I can remember.
The real story of Paul. 

The details of every human that couldn’t be bothered to protect a little girl from a
severely
mentally ill
psycho.

I’ve done a lot of healing. 

I am a wildly different person than I was even when this page was started.
I don’t fake happy anymore.

I’m not afraid to say what I think and I found a way to turn my anger/hurt into something productive and healing.

I consider myself to be a cactus.

Surviving on minimal water 
as much sun as possible

...and I'm cool looking.
until you get too close.
Provoke me...

and I will stab you.

I'm kidding...
kind of.

ACTUALLY...I’m a social worker now when I’m not being a mom…because our court systems are total shit, and I am sick of children having to hold the burdens of dumbass adults. I am a huge advocate of the “war on drugs” because I have watched so many lives get leveled by addiction.

SO...

if anything you’ve read in this short time bothers you…
probably a good time to check out and not read anymore. 

Definitely don’t read the book when it comes out. But if not…check some of this other stuff out. The upcoming months will be details/stories/things that will be covered in the book.

The Recovering Skeptic

 He Burnt My House Down

Drugs and Strip Clubs

Front Page

Gremlins, Knives, and Government Spies

RIP

Overdose

1 year

Concrete Angel

Do You Remember the 20^th Night of September

Life In Prison

There’s a lot to read. You can pick and choose. 

There will be a lot more when this book launches. So catch yourself up now. <3