2018 has been a long, hard year. I look back on it, and things that happened this January seem so far away, they may as well be five years ago. When I talk about the last couple months especially, it sounds more like the plot of a soap opera than real life. And now, as 2018 comes to a close, it feels like a major chapter in my story is ending. I’ve written about my family and my experiences with my mother (see When Fiction Mirrors Reality and Responsibilities of Being a Parent), but for the most part I’ve been quiet about recent events.

In November, not even a month after the last time we saw her in court, my mother died of a brain aneurysm. Now, before anyone judges me for not playing the part of the bereaved daughter, hear me out. You didn’t live in my house, and you haven’t had my experiences. I spent the last five years coming to terms with losing a mother. I didn’t feel loss or sorrow at the news; I’d long since shed those tears. What I did feel, on the other hand, was all the anger and hurt come back again. I cried because I knew that after everything, she never “saw the light” so to speak. She never apologized, never looked back. Without diving too deep into personal family matters, even right up to the end there were games, rumours, and nonsense.

I was out walking one day, letting my mind wander, and for the longest time I couldn’t think of the last thing I said to my mother. I don’t remember what I shouted at her as I left the house with her screaming at me, fumbling to put on my shoes on the sidewalk. I don’t remember what I said in the argument that ensued when I got back. I said nothing to her in the courthouse, instead channeling everything into the  court room door when I rushed past her as we were leaving (sorry courtroom employees, I do hope I didn’t mess anything up).

But then it hit me: the morning she left us, she took a lot of things. One piece in particular being a snowy landscape painting that hung in our living room. I was in middle school when I made it, with the help of my grandma. Grandma would start on a tree, or paint part of a cloud, and I’d finish the rest. I never really had the time to dedicate to practice, so I never got super into painting, but the couple pieces I’ve done mean a lot to me. But I digress. After I noticed the painting missing, my dad sent her a message asking about its whereabouts. When she replied, I’m not sure if she sent me a copy on purpose or by accident, but my phone buzzed and I saw “I took the Jenny painting because you got the artist”.

It was a long few minutes before I could say anything. I went to my dad, asking what to do, but he had no more answers than I did; it was all new territory for all of us. So after thinking about it, I picked up my phone and typed “It belongs to me, and I am not an object to be bargained for.” And that text is the last thing I ever said to her. I’m okay with that. I lived for 19 years with someone who didn’t see me as my own being, but merely a pawn or a weapon. A bargaining chip. I’m okay with my last words to her standing up for myself, asserting myself as a human being worthy of respect. I’ve got loads of other things I would have liked to say, given the chance, but in the grand scheme of things, none of that matters anymore. I’m fine with what I said. And yes, we eventually got the painting back; it’s since been returned to its home on our living room wall.

I don’t mean for this to be a sad post. I’m not here to throw a pity party and say “look at me and my terrible story”. No, I’m here because I’m hopeful. I can look back at where I’ve been, and I know that there are so many better things to come. This new year is so full of promise and new possibilities, and it’s already off to a great start. This year brings with it a sense of freedom, and is truly a new beginning for me. I’ve learned and grown so much in the past year, and now it’s time to close this chapter. I”m turning the page, grabbing a new pen, and now I get to write the rest of my story. Maybe with a few less plot twists this year, yes?

I think I want to watch the sun rise on New Year’s day. Celebrating at midnight is all well and good, but I think I really want to see this year open with the dawn. Because that’s what this new year feels like: it’s the dawn breaking after a long, dark night for me. I’m optimistic, and I’m ready to walk into this year with everyone I know and love by my side. And for everyone else who’s had a long, hard 2018, we can do this together. Even if an era of our lives is coming to a close, I know something better is coming. It’s going to be beautiful.

The post Old Goodbyes and New Beginnings appeared first on Jennifer Lidikay.

First off, when this little vampire anime popped up on my Netflix one day last year, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I literally just had nothing better watch, and thought “what the heck is this?”. Then I fell for Alucard, because hey, pretty vampire boy! I thought nothing of it when I decided to start working on a cosplay for him.

Then out of the blue, sitting at my sewing desk, a realization hit me that made this series, and this character, far more personal than I ever thought. Alucard is the half-vampire son of Dracula, and has to fight against his father for the sake of mankind and all that jazz. Take away the fantasy aspect of it, and you have an adult survivor of an abusive parent. For me, the adult daughter of an alcoholic mother, the story took on a whole new meaning.

I clung to Alucard like a lifeline; I’m fairly certain many of my friends and family now question my grip on reality, but I swear I don’t literally believe I’m Alucard. But in the middle of my personal crisis, here’s a character with the same story as me, who is unwavering, unbreakable, and unafraid. And with an awesome cape to top it off (at least in his game design).

Now if you missed the spoiler alert at the top, this is your last warning!

Season two of the anime came out this past Friday, and I couldn’t have been more excited- I had the past year to fangirl over my newfound obsession, and I was dying to see my beautiful boy Alucard again. But oh boy, I didn’t expect it to hit home quite that hard.

In one of the first scenes, Alucard has a short monologue about his identity as an opposite to Dracula. That struck a chord with me, because it was honestly too relatable. When people talk about cutting out toxic friends or relationships, they always say you should get rid of everything from your time with them… That’s not possible with a toxic parent. My mother left when I was 19; I can’t just cut out everything from the first 19 years of my life. I have had a long battle reminding myself that my childhood belongs to me, not to her. Like Alucard, I’ve struggled with the idea that I am not defined by my mother, and that I have an identity outside of my relation to her.

Also like Alucard, I didn’t have an unhappy childhood. I have good memories with my mother, just enough to make things confusing. Like everyone else, I remember making mothers day gifts, telling her how much I loved her. And I thought, like any other mother, she loved her children. Her abuse wasn’t obvious when I was young; I don’t have physical scars. She never beat me, and I didn’t go to school with horrific injuries (except one incident of too-realistic makeup scaring my history teacher, but that’s another story). It was more subtle than that, and I just accepted it as the way things were. I didn’t think of myself as an abused child, because I didn’t know anything else.

It got worse as I got older; her drinking problem was acknowledged about the time I graduated high school, and it only got progressively worse. Hardly a day went by when she wasn’t angry at someone or something; she lied, she yelled, and she manipulated everyone she encountered. No matter who tried to help her or how, anyone who wasn’t enabling her became an obstacle for her to circumvent, including me and my family. I always had a hard time standing up for myself, especially with her; it caused less trouble for me to just keep my head down and try not to set her off. After a lifetime of practice, I’d gotten pretty good at that.

It all came to a head the night before Halloween in 2013. She picked a fight with me so bad that I left the house, and I was too scared to go back until I saw my dad’s truck in the driveway. I told him what happened, and the incident escalated into a family-wide dispute in which my dad told her she had to choose the alcohol or us. She left the next morning. I don’t think any of us knew how to react; I put on my Halloween costume and went to work. That period was the calm before the storm. For the first time in my life, there were no arguments, no slamming doors, and no fear of going home. We all thought it was over, but that was only the beginning of the war.

We spent the last few years in divorce proceedings (and yes, I say we because we’re a family, and all in this together) that have been a strain beyond what any of us could have imagined, and sometimes beyond what we thought we could endure. Every time we went to the court house felt like walking onto a battlefield. It felt exactly like Trevor asking Alucard if he was ready to face Dracula. “No, but let’s put an end to this anyway.”

EVERYTHING IN THE FIGHT WITH DRACULA HURT ME. A part of me wishes I could have spoken to my mother like Alucard faced Dracula. I couldn’t have done it when she first left, but I’m a different person now. I’ve grown, I’ve gotten stronger, and like Alucard, I’m not alone. I have my family and friends around me, and I’m more grateful for them than words could ever express. Just like Trevor and Sypha, I know they all have my back.

And then came THAT scene. If you’ve seen season two, you know what I’m talking about. Dracula throws Alucard through a wall, steps through, and stops just as he looks ready to it him again. “It’s your room,” he says, and all of a sudden Alucard is in the context of being his son again. He’s not an obstacle or an enemy. “My boy… I’m killing my boy, Lisa… I’m killing our boy.” I’m sure you all know my opinions on people who hurt their children (see my previous article, Responsibilities of Being a Parent) and you should know how much that line broke me down. In that scene, Dracula showed more humanity than my mother has. I would give anything to see her realize the damage and the hurt she’s inflicting on people she used to claim she loved.

In going through my house to clear out her things, I spent probably two days sifting through old family photos. I found some of my baby photos, from what I assume was my first birthday. She looked just like any other mom holding her baby. And it hurts so much to think that somewhere along the way, she stopped seeing us as her family. I stopped being her baby. I don’t want her back in my life, but I just wish for even a second, she could stop and see what she’s done.

Even Alucard is not unbreakable, which to be honest, I really appreciate. The final episode of the season shows the aftermath of Dracula’s defeat, especially in regards to Alucard. His walking through the empty castle reminded me of being home alone after my mother was gone. I’ve found that I actually like being alone a lot of the time, but it’s not always a good thing. Like Alucard, I had to pick up the broken pieces of everything, and there were reminders of both the good and the bad times everywhere. Even without any dialogue, the last scenes spoke louder than the entire rest of the season in my opinion. Alucard takes a chair, sits down, and cries. And not just a single tear for dramatic effect; he weeps, overwhelmed by the weight of everything that’s happened. And I felt that scene in the very core of my being. Through Alucard, I saw every time I have had to excuse myself to avoid melting down in front of someone else. He looked exactly how I felt every time I’ve cried so hard I didn’t know if I could stop. And in a way, it makes me feel okay. It’s okay to break down, and it’s not a sign of weakness. Alucard is shown to be a strong, capable character, and even he breaks down and cries because of what he’s been through.

And even to someone who doesn’t have my issues, I think that last scene is important. It brings a sense of realism to Alucard’s character, and I think it’s really important to have an emotionally vulnerable moment like that for him. He’s never once seen as weak or incapable; he’s just… human. And as far as I know, that’s something that anyone can relate to. It hurts, and in my case it felt like a punch to the stomach, but I am honestly glad to see something like that portrayed. What happens after the battle is just as important as the battle itself. Recovering from trauma takes time, speaking from experience, and I am just very grateful to see that portrayed in Castlevania.

Also just saying, his friends TOTALLY need to go back for him. The boy needs a hug. And heck, hug me too.

The post When Fiction Mirrors Reality appeared first on Jennifer Lidikay.

I don’t know any perfect parents. Everyone has flaws, everyone has problems, and there’s no instruction manual for raising a tiny human. There’s no flawless, surefire way to know you won’t screw up. Everyone makes mistakes, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. I’m not taking about being a “perfect” parent today; I’m talking about the bare minimum that outright disqualifies you if you don’t meet it.

If your child has to defend themselves from you, you’re not a parent. Physically, mentally, or emotionally; if you make your child feel like they’re going into battle just by being in the same room, that isn’t being a parent. Your child should NEVER, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, feel this way. If they’re afraid for their safety, if you victimize them, you have no right to call yourself a parent. Your child shouldn’t feel belittled, worthless, or left wondering if you even love them. I know lots of moms and dads, every single one willing to stand by their kids, holding their hands as they walk this world. This world is tough, guys. There’s so much to be afraid of, but you shouldn’t be one of them. A parent’s job is to be on their child’s side, not against it. Parenthood is not a war; don’t make your child’s home a battlefield.

If you don’t support your child, you’re not a parent. Kids take work. They take time, they take money, and they take YOU. You can’t abandon them or throw them away. They don’t just exist when you’re around, and POOF the minute you change your mind. And that doesn’t even stop the minute they turn 18; if you’re a parent, that means being there for them for the rest of your life. It doesn’t matter if your child is 5, 25, or 55. Having a kid isn’t just having a cute little thing you can dress up to show the world, and put away when you’re done playing with them. If that’s what you want, get a Barbie doll. Then again, I’ve seen Toy Story; Barbie doesn’t deserve that either. If you want to call yourself a parent, it’s not about you; it’s about them. When they need food, when they need a cuddle, when they need help with their taxes, it’s your job to be there. And if you’re a real parent, you wouldn’t even consider otherwise.

No parent I know hurts their child. If you’re breaking your kid down every chance you get, no way in HELL are you a parent. Your child shouldn’t have such crippling self-esteem issues they’re terrified to be over 100 pounds. Your child has accomplishments, goals, and dreams. Sure, being a fairy princess in the kingdom of the unicorns isn’t a logical career choice, but as a parent, you should be supporting and encouraging your children to thrive. And let THEM take credit for what they do. There’s a point where their accomplishments are not yours to claim. If you get jealous or take credit for the things your child does, you’re not a parent. They’ll grow, they’ll learn, and you should feel proud of them.

A child is not your possession. A child is another human being; they have their own life, and it’s not yours to steal from them. Again, IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU. Your child is not beholden to being your dedicated minion for the rest of their lives. Neither are they a pawn in some twisted game to get what you want. They’re not a weapon to be used against your partner, and they are not your property. “I gave birth to you” isn’t something you can hold over your child’s head when you want something from them. They don’t automatically owe you their lives. Your child owes you NOTHING. You don’t get to wave their very existence around as if it magically makes you superior to them. Let’s review the first sentence of this post: just because you had sex one night doesn’t give you authority over another human being’s consciousness.

If you want to manipulate and deceive your kid, you’re not a parent. Your child shouldn’t have to bend over backwards or walk on eggshells to try and keep you happy. They shouldn’t have to look back and wonder how many of your words were lies. That doesn’t even make you a shitty parent. You’re a straight up abuser. If you violate your kid’s privacy, their trust, or their bodies, you are the absolute worst kind of person. We’re taught not to tolerate these behaviors in friends, partners and lovers, but somehow “parents” get a free pass. “My house, my rules”. You don’t have the right to rifle through your kid’s things, read their diaries, or steal from them. It’s their house too. As human beings, everyone deserves to have a corner of the world to call theirs. Your child is no different. Their room, their bags, their locker; keyword THEIRS, not yours.

Here’s where it gets personal: Everything I’ve talked about here is my life. My mother was an alcoholic, and she mentally and emotionally abused my entire family for years. In 2013, she ended up choosing her addiction over her family. I honestly didn’t even realize the extent of her damage until she left. That’s the thing with abuse: if that’s all you’ve known, it’s normalized in your mind. It’s not until you’re free from it that you figure out no, waking up to slamming doors isn’t normal. It’s not okay for a parent to give backhanded compliments to their child, or to scoff at gifts that aren’t extravagant. You’re not supposed to have panic attacks at the sound of dishes breaking. All these are lessons I didn’t learn until the past few years, now that I’m grown. And I’m still learning to accept that. It’s hard, sometimes. It’s hard today. This is probably something I will struggle with my entire life. But I think what I have to say is important.

Parents, take care of your kids. Protect them. Love them. CHOOSE THEM. Only if you do that are you a real parent.

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