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Tag Archives: abuse

Those Who Deny Reason Cannot Be Conquered By It

Well, here we go, almost time to go ‘On The Road Again…’ as the song goes!

Unfortunately, many of the workers here are moving on, since they are being treated in ways that they think is unfair.
I know, two sides (sometimes five!) to every story, but for the majority of the speaking, it is a negative picture being painted.
Without revealing too much, the owners are showing obvious, blatant, and regular signs of worker abuse, and after years of putting up with it, most of the workers are finished just laying down and taking it.

Thusly, I will not stick around for much longer.
I appreciate the opportunity to learn so much in such a short amount of time, and I appreciate what little has been given to me.
But I did not come to the Philippines to be criticized, ridiculed, and made to feel useless and incompetent.
I’m pretty sure I said the exact same things when I was leaving my ex, did I not? lol

Happily, I have been saving money for the Bistro….so I have a little bit of money to draw upon if need be for visas, until I can find suitable freelance work, or until I can get the food place up and running……I won’t give up on that idea, it’s been a dream of mine for many years to start my own Food Spot, and with over 11 years experience working in Kitchens, I know I can do it.

I think, in the last ten minutes, I have also scored a freelancing gig putting together and maintaining a website for a new ‘Zine here in the Philippines…….
Wut Wuuuut.
But in order to work it, I will need a bloody internet frigging connection if I leave to go live in Bais.
I will either have to work at an internet cafe or stay here for a bit longer….which even the idea of sickens me……
The last few weeks have been rough and I’ve been thinking of going back to self harm as a goddamn coping mechanism.
EWWWWW, gross Idea, Jessica!

Anywhoo, just wanted to update y’all 12 people who read this 😉
By the way, thanks for continuing to read this.

Also by the way….anyone else notice prices went up a bit on stuff at your local sari-saris?
Beer went up five pesos, and pancit noodles went up three pesos!
BOOOOO!!!!

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Posted by on October 29, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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The Welcoming Hand of The Interested Stranger

Sorry, no pictures on this bloggity update unfortunately…nothing to give a relief for your eyeballs at all.

A lot has been happening, been seeing a lot of new things, and so life goes on, I guess.

Stuff went bad again….I dont know where I left off, but I went back to the house for a week, Damon remained sober and full of energy and piss and vinegar for one full week….then the very morning his mother left for her job he was back to drunk and I said fuck it for the last time.

The embassy has come through, just yesterday they told me the loan fiiinnnaaalllyyy got approved,  but in the last few weeks, I’ve met two people who know quite a few people around town, and they’ve been spreading the word of maybe me getting a job…..needless to say, the embassy option will have to wait at this point, because I would rather be poor, full of good food, and happy, paying taxes to the Philippine government than poor and depressed and suicidal, inhaling black mold spores and eating out of garbage cans in Canada, repaying a criminal government that I hate.

I’ve gone down to Zamboangita, excuse me if the spelling is wrong, met a German man who owns the White Chocolate Hills beach resort, as well as two other resort owners that have been very kind, and seemed decently interested in possibly having a native speaker of English to help out around their properties.
They said they would be in touch.
Then, I went and met with a Korean man who runs an English school that I may be able to assist at, and on Monday I will be meeting with someone from one of the call centers around town to see if they’d be interested in hiring me.

The Lady I met and who’s taken me to meet people knows the woman who basically brought all the call centers into Dumaguete, so undoubtedly, she will know of someone to be interested if there is a prospect.

So I’ve been rushing my little bottom off to and fro, socializing and meeting with people, as well as keeping the word out that I want a job and I want to stay for good.

I keep thinking about how much Damon would hate me and embarass me and look down upon me now…… every time I meet someone I can hear him in my head saying ‘Oh, this person is stupid, moronic, loser, they don’t know anything, god how boring, blah blah….I’ve been trying to not let it get me down….logically, I know his view of other people ((as well as this whole country)) is depressing and off-base from reality…which is so ironic, when he tells me he loves the Philippines, but then says all Philippine food is disgusting, over salted and full of MSG…….When I know from direct experience, eating with the cops, eating with Ma’am Hoffmann, etc that rice and vegetables, or pechay and malunngay soup and jackfruit and ya know…..all the other foods I’ve tasted aren’t bloody disgusting or salty in the darn least…..I can’t say much about the salted fish…of course they’re salty…but SO DELICIOIUUUUSUSUS…I was scared to try them for the longest time, but the other day, I gave in and OHMYGOD…..so crunchy….so saaallltttyyyyy….so goooooooood….
And I’m addicted to the BBQ pork chunks down the street from the copstation…..I cannot get enough of them.

Anyway just a small update, can’t stay online for too long as it isn’t my computer, as usual……I will try to write again soon.
Damon also tried to make me feel bad for writing this blog…told me it’s practically a form of mental masturbation and that I am not allowed to air my personal life on the internet…….but honestly, excuse my language, Fuck That, I don’t censor myself, I can write about what I want, and if he didn’t want people to know the bad stuff, he shouldn’t have been, frankly, an asshole.

I will continue to write, because this blog actually has a purpose, once I have a solid place to write updates, and once I get more and more immersed in the Philippine culture and lifestyle, I want a space to be able to share my experiences, hopes, dreams, and reality of life as a foreigner in the Philippines.

I hope you will all continue to join me.

 
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Posted by on March 22, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Live To The Point Of Tears

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Gosh, what a month, what a month.
The above picture is from my FAVORITE comic/graphic quote-book-thing, ‘A Softer World’
Always cheeky, poignant, and reassuring…they used to be in The Coast, which is a free newspaper in Halifax, NS, and I used to cut them out every week. I still have them all tucked away in a box at my moms somewhere.
I found out later you could buy a full-color book version at Strange Adventures comic shoppe, but I found the process of cutting them out and sticking them into an envelope kinda kitsch and wonderful, so.
Yep.

Anywhoo, I guess I have a lot to update you on, so here we go.
I wrote down stuff as it happened to better remember, but it’ll be a bit spotty, my memory has never been great.

On God-knows-what day in Jan, Damon had been drunk for weeks, and I decided enough was enough for me.
I took a Jeepney downtown to Lee Plaza, got a bit of cash out, picked up smokes, and went to Coco Amigos.

I sat there chain smoking and crying, had every intention of sleeping outside, but it was raining and I had forgotten my umbrella. I was half-hoping Damon would show up and take me home but he didn’t. After a while, I was really tired and I just wanted to go home, so I got the last Jeepney back to Valencia and walked back to the house, and slept on the porch.

On the seventh of February, I again packed up and got ray to drive me to Coco’s. I had no money this time, and so I went over to the boardwalk across the street and sat there, smoking.
After a while, I curled up and tried to rest, but kids kept bothering me asking for money and stuff….that’s kinda an annoying part of downtown…..all the kids beg, and I’ve been told that the women sometimes lend their kids out to other homeless/beggar-people so they can have a better haul for the day…..people pity people with kids all around the world, I guess….and they cash in on that fact here.

Anyways, A man and a heavily makeupped Lady stopped eventually and started asking all kinds of questions…I told them my story, told them my visa had been expired since January, etc, and they told me I should go to the Mayor for help in the morning.
After they left, two guys stopped and asked to take my picture.
I was immediately creeped out, wondering why they wanted MY picture, and one guy said he was from Manila for the weekend and so he wanted a picture….My antennas were wiggling furiously, but let them take one..

After they left, the group of kids that had been hanging around told me to call the police because I was going to get taken.
I asked them if they meant kidnapped, and they said yes……so I didn’t know if they knew much English, and I don’t know if that’s what they really meant, but I went to Coco Amigos, and got them to call the police.

They eventually got there, and I told them I was pretty much homeless and my visa was expired….everyone was super nice, and they let me smoke….They took me to the copshop, let me use the computer, gave me hot chocolate….I answered questions and gave all my info and stuff….and then we basically just talked about our two countries, Canada and the Philippines, talked about jobs, food, education, etc until I got tired.

I slept in a bench in a back office, and the next morning it was kinda super rainy.
The day started a bit hectic, they were trying to figure out what to do with me.

We went to see a social worker in Valencia, who gave me P200 for food, but said there was pretty much nothing she could do for me because I had no money or tickets to get home to Canada, and they had no money either.

We went to the Immigration office, and they said I had to update my visa and obtain an exit clearance just to leave, and that they couldn’t help either. I asked about deportation, but since I hadn’t done anything wrong, they said it’d be impossible, and that it takes months anyway.

One of the Female officers bought me lunch at a little cafe and we had a bit of a chat, she told me she’s dating a female judge in Ontario, she showed me pictures, and talked about Canadian money, I pointed out that the toonie and the ten peso looks similar to each other and stuff, it was a really nice break from the stress of the past few days.

After a few hours of head scratching, I was taken to la Casa Esperanza, which is a crisis center for women and children in Dumaguete city. I was told I would be able to stay until Monday, this day being Saturday.

I was shown around, read the rules, and shown to my room, which I shared with a woman and her baby, and a little girl.
It wasn’t really all that different from being at Adsum House, which is a shelter for women in Halifax that I have lived at quite a few times in the past.

My stay was fine, all the girls tried to teach me Tagalog, and I managed to remember a few….I now know shark, water, plate, dog, cat, eyes, and bat…and I have a list of other stuff that I’ve yet to memorize.
I had to beg for coffee and to be able to smoke cigarettes outside out of sight, which had me a bit stressed out for a few days, but I got through it.

On Monday, I heard nothing, then on Wednesday I got really homesick, so I asked them if I could go back to the house and see if things were any better, to try to make peace and stuff.
Two officers and a counselor took me back to the house, and right away I could tell Damon hadn’t even stopped drinking at all.
I spent two days at the house before I figured everything was royally effed, and so I went to the Valencia police station, and told them I wanted to contact the Canadian Embassy about going home.

They cleaned up a little nippa hut on the property and told me I could sleep in it while we got everything straightened out.

It was awesome watching how fast they cleaned and fixed the hut, it was a wreck before I got there, and a team of about six or seven guys zipped around and put a tarp on the roof and all that.
So I lived there for about a week and a half, then Damon sent me a stupid message on Facebook saying my Lush package had arrived….I paid a lot of money for it and so I went back to the house to get it.

Stupid fucking idea.
Damon was sitting in my pajama pants, all contrite and resolved and told me he had stopped drinking and he didn’t want to drink anymore and it was too inconvenient and blah blah blah blah blah, long story short, I decided to give him yet another goddamned chance, and he lasted a week.
As SOON as his mother left for her job, he picked up a bottle and started in on me yet again.

I’m now back living in the hut at the police station, trying to get the Canadian embassy to help me, and being very hungry and frustrated and tired and depressed and suicidal and pretty much the lowest I can currently be.

Donations would sincerely be appreciated at this point.

The Bloody End for now.

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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One Day She Will Tell You That She Has Had Enough

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So remember when I said living with an addict is hard?
Well, living with abuse is impossible.

Damon went off the deep end last night, I’m not sure what caused it exactly, and he punched me twice in the face.
I was laying in bed, because it’s that time of the month, and I was in pain….he came in and started taking clothes off the shelf, so I asked him where he was going. He said, ‘Downtown.’ I asked if I could come, and he said No….he started talking randomly about going down town and doing a social experiment to see how women react to asshole guys or something, he wasn’t making much sense, so I said ‘Fine whatever, you go downtown and have fun, I’ll just lay here.’
He left, saying ‘My final experiment is done’ or something to that effect…

Then he came back in, music blasting from the cpu room, and just sat there on the bed, not doing or saying anything.
I told him I was in pain and I just want quiet and could he please have some respect for me?
He threw back ‘So I cook and clean and do everything for you and blah blah blah and you want respect?’
Then he left again.

Then he came back and said he was going to look stuff up online about breast cancer and that I’m ungrateful and bitchy and self centered and more blah blah blah, then he called me a cunt, and I got up and went onto the porch to get away from him.
I heard the door close, and I thought I heard him lock me out, so I went back inside, and said ‘I know I didn’t hear the lock on that door, right?’

And then he came at me. Put his hand around my neck and told me to get out of his house. I shoved him away three times and told him it wasn’t his house, and that I wasn’t going anywhere.

He went to the kitchen, and I went to the other side of the room, where Donna’s bedroom door is…I was fucking terrified he was going to pull a knife on me, but he just came at me to punch me.
I shoved him into the bathroom door, and he came at me and punched me in the face.
I shoved him again, into a hamper and shelving unit thingy….then his mom came out of the room and separated us, he was going to hit me again.

I went into Donna’s room to get away from him, and he started screaming about how all women are shit and he’s going to go disappear and that I was supposed to save him and I was his last hope and that his mother caused him to be this way and that having Auspergers is so hard, and how he doesn’t do anything but cook and feed us and we’re ungrateful and I’m a parasite and for Donna to give her money to terrorists when she dies and just….crazy, insane shit.

Totally off the wall shit.
Then he went into the bedroom and started smashing pictures and stuff, I haven’t seen the bedroom since I left it last night, so I have no idea what’s broken and what’s not.

My stuff is also in there but I’m avoiding that room for now….I packed my duffel a few weeks ago, and was ready to leave then, but I didn’t….I should have listened to myself, but I thought if he stopped drinking he’d get better.

I thought I smelled alcohol on his breath last night but I can’t be 100% positive.

This is a total disaster, but hey….at least if I can raise the money I can see my momma for Christmas….
I’ve been asking my friends on Facebook to help me, the cheapest flight right now is on the tenth, and it costs about $1078.00
After the tenth the cost goes up and over $1200.
I don’t feel safe here at all, but I need the internet access, and I don’t have money to go anywhere else. 

Once again, if you feel like you can help, now more than ever I really need help.
Every dollar counts, and I would seriously appreciate it.
For the Lady who wanted the picture of the rose for donating, I’ll have to draw/paint/photo-print one for you myself.
I’m not as talented as he is, I’m sorry….but I will do my darn best for you.

Donations can be made here:
Please Donate

Or you can interac transfer me an immediate donation at my email address:
jsscnrd@gmail.com

Just let me know what the question and answer is for the security stuff.

I hope I can get home soon. I miss my mom and I don’t like feeling so fucking unsafe.

Anyone dealing with abuse:
Don’t.
It’s not worth it. 
Never.
And you NEVER deserve to get hit.
EVER.
I don’t care if you’re the biggest asshole on earth, you don’t deserve to be hit or choked or belittled.

On the plus side, my last two relationships have taught me that I sure can take a fucking punch in the face….when I get back to Canada, I’m probably going to join MMA.

Ciao for now.

 
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Posted by on December 1, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Like Old Barbed Wire Embedded in a Tree’s Heartwood

So depressed.

Damon’s condition has worsened to the point where he hasn’t even spoken to me in three days. 
His mother has been away, and so he literally locked himself in her room and hasn’t spoken to me.
His Facebook status right now is about ‘evaporating’ to Tasmania.

I went and had a talk with one of the Sari-Saris on our street, and he owes them close to P700 in a matter of five days.
All of it went to booze and smokes.
He told them he couldn’t get to the bank to get money out because there were brownouts due to the typhoon.
They said the last time he got rum from them was this past Monday, and that he was shaking and already drunk.

First of all, the Typhoon didn’t effect our area.
Second, he doesn’t have a Philippine bank account.
Third, that’s not the only Sari-Sari that extends him credit in this town, and last month he owed the other place P800, which he paid off by stealing money from his mother.

Who knows how much he owes to people around this town.

Needless to say, my dream of going to a Typhoon-effected area is kinda dead at this point and now I have to worry about either coming up with $1,500 for a plane ride back to Canada, or coming up with over P30,000 to rent something here in Dumaguete by myself.

Either way, excuse my language, I’m fucking fucked.

I feel so sad, lonely, duped, and stupid.
Embarrassed and ashamed.
Lonelier than I’ve ever felt, and very, very scared.

Living with someone who has addiction issues is very tough.
Sometimes there is a chance for rehabilitation of the person, but sometimes there isn’t, and being the loved one of someone with addiction issues is even tougher, because you have to know where and when to draw that line, and you have to be strong enough to stand by your decisions.

I did a good bit of research the other day regarding alcoholism, alcohol abuse & dependence, and biological effects, both short and long term, of alcohol use.

From this I’ve come to the conclusion that Damon is in the late stages of severe alcohol dependence, and I have a feeling he’s going to kill himself if he keeps going the way he is.
He’s drinking a pint or more of 80 proof dark rum a day…….I think he’s damaged his health and brain to the point of no return, and has underlying psychological factors as well that would make quitting next-to-impossible for him.
He has severe ataxia, and his irritability, depression, and paranoia are skyrocketing every day.

I actually don’t know how many times he hasn’t been able to get access to alcohol in the last year, but if he has had to stop for a few days and re-start, his body and brain would be experiencing a ‘kindling’ effect, where each withdrawal episode is worse than the last, which leads to much faster deterioration of the body….seizures, extreme mood changes, possible cardiomyopathy, hepatitis, and other effects.

He’s killing himself, and he doesn’t even care….in fact, he tells me he wants to die.
From a cold, removed point of view…I don’t believe there is any rehabilitating him.
From a devoted wife’s point of view, I still hold out hope that there will be a day in the future that he snaps out of it’s grip, comes back to reality, and wants to get sober.

I want to help him, be there for him, fix him, take the pain away…….
But I know from personal experience with addiction that the only person that can help someone is themselves.
The age-old adage of ‘Can’t help you unless you want help’ is unfortunately all too true.

It’s heartbreaking.
I’ve become attached to things here….my cats…the people…the house and garden and neighbors…..my damn husband and his mother….and forcing myself to think of alternative options is killing me emotionally. 
Even writing this out is making me tear up.
It just sucks.

 
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Posted by on November 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Show Your Enemies What You Look Like… From The Inside

Gah… 12:30 am, but I still maintain I wrote this blog for the 23rd!!!

Only means a Two-In-One for my ten loverly followers so far.

It was a full day, nothing especially exciting, but we went for groceries as a family affair; Damon, I, Donna and Ray… Damon still sick, on the back of Donna’s bike, and me on the back with Ray.

We got through the grocery with me hiding in the corners… I don’t like to get too involved, because back in Canada I had a strict grocery regimen, and here is all over the map with everyone giving suggestions and adding chaos to the carts.
Once all was bought, Ray and I put everything into the carry-bags, loaded both bikes, and we headed home.

Honestly, Damon and I can run through a full grocery in less than a half an hour, but with everyone involved, it takes about two hours.
We got home, everything was put away and sorted, and I decided to sit out on the deck and relax with some Tanduay and Orange Juice.

I thought about this blog and things to talk about, I’ve come up with about seven topics, but the most pressing currently is really, the idea of survival.

To me personally, there is a large difference between the idea of surviving, and living.
In Canada, for about eleven years. I was highly focused on the idea of surviving.

I cannot say in good faith, that I was in a decent place spiritually, mentally, emotionally, let alone physically.
For so long, I was dependent upon the idea that in order to get a good footing in life, I had to rely on others to place me there. I compromised not only my future ideals, but my Self worth and my personal values just to get by, for the longest time. I became hooked by the idea that someone would ‘discover’ me, or would ‘recognize my talent’ and whisk me magically into the life that I ‘deserved’.

Looking back, these lines of thinking are what justified the kinds of crowds I allowed to infiltrate my life.
Countless people, both good and bad, who would use my good nature to further themselves, utilizing my own idealistic agenda to propel themselves into their own perfected dreams of reality… A naive student of life, feeding the immediate masses some skewed vision of paradise, all in hope to eventually save the world.

I felt as though the more I gave of myself to others, the more the world would shine with some kind of prodigious epiphany.

Unfortunately, the world kept turning as before.
Even after I tried to save my best friend’s virginity by sacrificing my own.
Even after I tried to spark a rebellion in my city with my insolent defiance of established law.
Even after giving up on everything and living a life of nomadic homelessness, which so many other youths before me have already done… better than I had, may I add…

The world kept turning it’s ugly face to the sun, and arose no better-faced than the day before.
The bitter struggles of survival are no match for my weak-kneed attempts at shaking the ‘Norm’ of things.

Once I grew compliant with the idea that I would not be the world’s savior, I found myself at a moderate loss in my life.

My whole objective for half of my years on this planet were to change the world, and to save humans.
I figured, No one can save the world… And no one can intrinsically change humans… but to change the whole world, all you have to do is get *ONE* Individual Human to think differently about the life around them… Like the tiniest firespark, all it takes is one flame to ignite an entire forest into burning.

My biggest flaw, yet my biggest joy in life for the longest time, was to put so much care and effort into individual souls that they couldn’t help but to question their entire beings… Their entire way of living.

I not only asked, but pushed the hard questions…
‘Why do you run yourself over, Why do you put so much thought into the past, Why do you not LIVE the life that has been given to you, in the present?’
‘Why do you dwell in a hole, why give that person so much power over you, Why do you allow yourself to be a copy of someone else’s past mistakes?’
‘You realize you are Here, right now?’
‘Do Something, DO something with your Self.’
‘You are Talented in a way that six billion other humans are not.’
‘Show Us what YOU can do.’

Ironically, terribly, and yet most ((excuse me)) fucking brilliantly, I told these things to the most abusive, most cruel, most vapid characters to grace my presence… Not really realizing in the process that I was speaking to the most hurt, most destroyed, and most abandoned parts of my Self.

So, Vicky, what the heck has all of this to do with Survival Vs Living, you ask, Gentle Reader?

I’m not one-hundred percent sure, to be honest.
I am a survivor.
I have been through enough in my life to know that I am equipped to deal with the worst sides of living that there are.
I know that I have seen enough in my life to know I can relate easier to someone battered and bruised in the shadows than I am to someone pampered and preening for the spotlight… Though I have also been in enough places to know there is makeup for those spotlights as well.
I know that there is more darkness in today’s world than sunrises… And I am not naive enough anymore to think that hopes and dreaming can cure a bad situation.

But I still have hope that we can all live free of tyranny, be it global or individual.
I know that if you ask, or ((excuse me)) fuck it, beg for it… more than a few times, help will always be there.
I know for a fact that no situation is unique, thousands of years of humans living, surviving and dragging themselves through the mud does, in fact pay off for those resilient souls that choose to survive.

And I do know… Even though I may not yet be accustomed to the idea, living simply is 100% possible for every human on this earth to achieve if they so choose it.

Burmese Warrior Monkey Skull

 
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Posted by on September 23, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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