Hey. What's up? I'm Aprille. Welcome to the B!tch Bet Podcast, where we put ourselves first regardless of how it makes other people feel, we don't care about being the villain and where we do what makes up happy, even if it scares the shit out of us.
But it won't always be sunshine and rainbows because it never is. Life never is. My life isn't sunshine and rainbows, well now I guess it pretty much is. But getting here? Man…now that is a story.
My story.
But that story led me here talking to you and your story led you here listening to me. So, we must be doing something right, right?
Sure that story most likely has some dark days in there, hell maybe even months, some very questionable decisions, some hard lessons to learn and some moments where it felt like that story was going to break you but it didn't.
We made it this far, so who is to say that we can't keep going? Who's to say we can't dictate how our story goes? Cause I know I am.
I have spent too much time letting other people try to have a say on how my story gets told. Some would say a lifetime, I sometimes say a life sentence.
Telling your story can be hard because everyone has their own version, but that doesn’t make it any less important.
And who doesn't love the morally gray character?
For those that are not avid readers like myself, the morally gray character isn't born that way, they are created out of necessity.
They have experienced the horrors of life and had trauma forced upon them due to other people's decisions regarding them.
They have demons to face, demons to tame and demons to overcome. Taking on those demons is not an easy task and some people are never able to take the reins in order to control them.
Then there are people like me, who didn't realize that they had demons lurking in the darkest parts of their mind until some fuckboy came along and decided to let them out to play, from where they had been festering in for 22 years. And play they did.
They had a field day running rampant around my mind while passing around a megaphone so they can all have their turn voicing their toxic messages that sounded eerily similar to my mother, but she had lost that title long ago. Honestly, she probably never deserved it to begin with.
The demons that she had planted weren't going to go down quietly and I couldn't force them back into the closet that they had been held in for so long either, since the momentum from when they got released caused the door to shatter. But I still believed that I could ignore them.
I don't think anyone would be surprised to know that that tactic did not have the targeted effect. So I tried something else, I decided to keep myself busy by completely redoing my childhood bedroom.
It was during the summer of 2018 and I was in the process of transferring to a university to finish out my bachelor's degree. It was the first time since I started college that I wasn't taking any classes and actually had free time aside from my job.
But that project also wasn't doing what I had hoped for. I was still having emotional breakdowns while I was alone in my room, or in my car in a Del Taco drive thru, or while driving to Home Depot for more paint supplies, or while walking along the shore line.
It seemed like nothing I was doing was working and after having yet another breakdown with my dad one morning, while he was getting ready for work, he had asked if I needed to go to therapy to help with these issues I was having. And at the time, I had told him no because, being the stubborn woman that I am, I wanted to try to figure it out myself.
"Cause no one knows me better than I do," I had said. Oh, how wrong I was.
Remember, I didn't know I had these demons in my head up until a few months before that conversation, so what made me think that I knew how to handle them? Honestly, probably my pride.
The moment that changed everything was when I was on my way home from a Logic concert with two of my cousins and all the dark thoughts were getting louder with every mile that went by.
Concerts have always been a sacred place for me. They were the place where I felt most connected to other people. They centered me, grounded me, reminded me that I wasn't alone in the world.
Normally I'm on cloud 9 after attending a concert and the post concert depression usually doesn't kick in until the following morning. But I was dealing with real life depression and heading home from that show, I felt hollow.
I ended up talking to my cousins during the drive about some of the things that had been reeking havoc across my mind, because my dad told me that I shouldn’t just keep those thoughts to myself all the time.
The conversations helped and I am still very appreciative of my cousins for being there for me, but it made me realize that I actually couldn't fix this problem on my own. These issues were bigger than me.
That concert was on a Sunday, by that Wednesday I found myself sitting across from the woman that would help me start to take control of my life for what felt like the first time.
Now let me preface this by saying that up until that point in my life, I didn't think that therapy would be of any help to me. I didn't think that I was the type of person that would need to lay down on a couch and talk about my feelings. Honestly, I didn’t even think I had feelings.
But as it turns out, I did indeed have feelings and they were pissed that I had ignored them for so long. So, I found out pretty quickly that talking about said feelings was exactly what I needed to do. I should also mention that at the time, I was going to school to get a degree in communication, so I was learning all different types of ways to get my point across, which made this process only slightly less intimidating.
I was starting to learn not only the shear complexity of my emotions but also how to handle them in a healthy way as to start healing.
But how are you supposed to heal from something that has long since scarred over? Some days, I am still trying to figure it out. But my therapist gave me the most amazing place to start.
Our first session, she broke it down for me and I did the same. I knew what my problem was and what I needed help doing. I may not have known the answers to the universe at 22, but I was self aware enough to know what I was struggling with. I was also grown enough to admit that I couldn't do it on my own anymore.
"My head and my heart are on different pages in what feels like different books," I had told her.
She had told me later on in the conversation, "You run these sessions. If we get to a topic that you don’t want to talk about, I won't push you on it. But this only works if you talk."
When I left her office that day, I had some things to think about before our next session the following week. Was I ready to talk about things that no one really knows? Could I handle it? Would I survive it?
I spent a lot of time thinking about those questions and what I realized was, she couldn't tell anyone about what we talked about, unless it involved hurting myself or other people. She also couldn't judge me for what I said.
So, I talked.
For the first time in my life, I could just talk about what goes on in my head and all the poisonous things that the person who was supposed to love me unconditionally had put in there out of jealousy and literally anything else I felt like I needed to say.
It was liberating. But fuck…was it hard.
Going to therapy was hands down one of the hardest things that I have ever chosen to willingly do. But I wouldn’t be where I am or even who I am today without it.
Therapy didn't fully heal me, but it definitely helped mend the parts of me that were broken. It also gave me the tools that I would need to handle other traumas that I might find myself on the receiving end of.
Which was why when I left that office for the last time in January of 2019, it was with a smile on my face and tear in my eye.
I just didn't realize that round 2 would be right around the corner.
You would think that the human mind would let you fully heal and move on from one trauma before forcing the next one upon you. But apparently not.
It didn't matter that I was still struggling with the toxic messages of "not being good enough," "not being capable enough," and "not being worthy enough."
It didn't matter that I still wouldn’t believe my fiancé when he would give me a compliment.
It didn’t matter that it still felt like I was constantly going toe to toe with the fucking mirror because my self-esteem was still basically nonexistent.
It didn't matter that I still felt like I was nothing special and that I simply just existed.
None of that mattered one night in early 2022, as I was sitting on my couch scrolling through TikTok and I came across one of those therapy videos when I heard the bell for the next round and was told to get back in the ring.
"Imagine that you're at the end of a hallway and a younger version of yourself is at the opposite end. How old are you? Now imagine that they are running to you for a hug. As you are hugging the younger version of yourself, you whisper something in their ear. What do you say?" Was what the video had said.
And the only thing that I could think of as the onslaught of images flashed across my eyes as if I was looking through a view master at top speed was, "well fuck." Because what was it that a little 8 year old needed to hear?
"I'm sorry that no one was there to protect you. From any of it."
My view on so many people in my life, in my family, had shifted in an instant. They became tainted. But some turned ugly.
I had thought that I had already seen how ugly someone can become with the person that I was supposed to call "mom." But that is when I realized that there are truly monstrous people in this world.
Now I get why they say that there are deeper levels of hell. Because simply knowing that they will burn for all of eternity still seems like a kindness. And some people don’t deserve my kindness. That list just got three names longer.
I guess you could say that was when I realized where my origin story began.
Having my innocence stripped away from me at the age of 8. Then being violated again by somebody else, probably around the same age, the details are still a bit fuzzy. Then being groomed as a teenager, but thankfully knowing that a dude in his thirties shouldn't be in love with a 14 year old.
I guess that explains why I was away from that house as often as I possibly could be. I guess that explains why I was so pissed at the world as a teenager. I guess that explains why I listened to Linkin Park's "Numb" for 6 months straight. I guess that explains Natalie.
When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time alone. Gee, I wonder why? Luckily it was usually by choice since that was the only time I actually got some fucking peace, unless the company was my dad then I would get some laughs out of it too.
Anyway, I was usually left to my own devises, so how I used to entertain myself was I would think of different stories in my head. Once I got into reading, I would just put myself in those stories and think about how I would have handled things differently.
Then there was Natalie and she was my favorite character. Natalie was my twin sister and she was the exact opposite of me. Quiet, reserved, sweet as pie, everyone loved Natalie. Our family was apart of a local Motorcycle Club and I was a lead singer of a band. But I was Natalie's protector. When a certain family member would come around, I would take the beating so Natalie would be left alone. Cause what Natalie had to endure was so much worse.
I didn't think about Natalie all the time, but she was a constant throughout a vast majority of my teen years. I would usually think about her when I just wanted to keep my mind busy. And eventually I just stopped thinking about her.
While I was getting the shit kicked out of me in the ring, my loving fiancé shouted at me from my corner, if I felt like I needed to go back to therapy in order to help get through this new trauma.
But what this demon didn't realize was, my favorite place to go for is the throat and my height gives me a killer upper cut.
Why do I like going for the throat? Well, because if they can't breathe, they can't fucking talk either.
I had told him the same thing that I told my dad in round 1, "I wanted to do this on my own first." But my reasoning as to why was different this time. This wasn't my stubbornness or my pride.
It was my determination. It was my rage.
I wasn't 22 anymore. I wasn't in that house anymore. I was two states away and I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.
If I didn't want to talk to someone, I wasn't going too. I also wasn't going to ask about them either because I don’t care about what they are doing with their pathetic life. I already cut off one blood relative, even though I got some shit for it. And I will damn well do it again.
I don't put up with toxic shit anymore and if you want to have a title in my life, then you better damn well deserve it.
And if that makes me the villain, well, I'll adjust my crown accordingly.
So I didn't go back to therapy for this new trauma that I had to face, but it wasn't without its own set of challenges.
I had a lot of things that I didn't know where to put. I had a lot of things to say that would be the equivalent of throwing a chaos grenade into the middle of my entire family dynamic. And I had to figure out who I could talk to about it or even if I wanted to talk about it because I don’t think anyone should have to know the details of what I had to endure while living in that house. I know I don't.
Even though I didn't end up going to therapy, it didn't mean I didn't have realizations about what my mind was trying to do for me during all those years.
I understood why I created Natalie in my head. It was my own way of trying to protect my innocence that had already been damaged.
I understood why this wasn't a topic before when I was going to therapy because this trauma had been buried underneath all the bullshit that his mother had done to me.
I understood why I never cared about having a relationship with him since my mind had already seen what a twisted, horrible person he was.
I understood why round 2 had started when it did, because I was finally in a safe place away from everything that had caused all my traumas which finally allowed my brain to start processing it all.
I understood that it was okay to just fall apart. That I didn't need to have all the answers all the time. That just sitting in the emotions and letting them have their turn at center stage was enough.
Trauma doesn’t care about timing. Trauma doesn't care about all of the other things that you need to get done before dealing with it. Trauma will bid its time, but it will force you to deal with it whether you're ready or not.
I learned that those traumas are a part of me whether I like it or not. Those events made me the person I am today. It irritates the shit out of me, but it doesn't make it any less true.
I hate knowing that there are parts of myself that I hate. I hate that I am apart of a fucking statistic. I hate that being the baby of a family dominated by men still didn't protect me from the horrors of this world.
Now, I don't blame my entire family for my childhood horrors, nor do I expect them to feel guilty about not knowing. The blame stays with those that deserve it, those that have earned it. And I also don't expect anyone to take sides.
I am also not telling you these things so you can feel bad for me or give me your pity. I don’t need any of those things. I don’t want any of those things.
What I want, is for someone to listen to my story and know that they are not alone in theirs.
For someone to know that it is okay to fall apart.
For someone to know that there will be times when it feels like you are just walking through this dark tunnel with no end in sight, but there is an end. You just need to keep going.
It's okay to take breaks along the way and it's okay to ask for help.
Asking for help, doesn't make you weak. It actually showcases your strength.
Change can be scary, but not all changes are bad.
People are supposed to change. We're supposed to grow and become different people. We're supposed to learn from our past so our futures don’t look the same.
And if there are people that do not support that growth, that healing, then do they still deserve a place at the table?
I'm not here to tell you what to do with your life, because only you know what your next step entails. But I do want to bring a new perspective for you to consider.
I'm just a girl trying to use her voice and experiences to help those that might not know how to help themselves yet.
And to all the negative voices in your head, Bitch Bet.