Stand up for myself, or walk away?
Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2024 11:43 am
This is a chronic issue in my life, not an acute one. So, while I would very much appreciate a thoughtful response, please don’t imagine it is of the highest priority, or urgent. I know that it is not.
In a quarter I will be graduating in the middle of my class from what is possibly, academically, the worst accredited high school in the state. Which does not offer much in the way of helping me move on to anything better. The diploma is literally just a piece of fairly-nice paper.
I don’t doubt that I could have done far better for myself had I not been required to deal with my batshit and drunken family over the past four years. (I have written before, under different pseudonyms and from different emails and I don’t really want to rehash all the issues. Suffice it to say that I have been bounced around five different homes – with three different legal guardians as well as the state, twice – while attending three different high schools.
Between now and my graduation ceremony, I will also become 18. That event will mean that I can bring suit in state courts against a number of actual and artificial persons – to include my mother, father, one set of grandparents, and two school districts . . . criminals employed by the state sadly have qualified immunity. I have spoken to two attorneys who would each be willing to do so on my behalf.
Or . . . I could just move on.
Shortly before Easter – and please forgive the blatant symbolism, in my youth I was afflicted by religious influences – I thought that I would reach out to my father and offer a new relationship between us based on us both being adults. That did not go well – in his opinion the police were wrong, the courts were wrong, the video was doctored, and his fuck-buddy is Jesus . . . maybe Jesus’ dad . . . or possibly Jesus, Casper, George Burns, and John Lennon.
Dealing with my family means dealing with a caricature of myself. Dealing with the way that they see me. Queer: well, I have had more intimate female friends than male ones . . . because I hang with those whom I share interests with, befriend those whom I can trust, and love those who are capable of returning my love. Brother-fucker: didn’t happen, but we are close confidants. Teacher-fucker: didn’t happen, he just thought I had potential. Thief: I lived with falling-down drunks who can’t remember where they leave things most people don’t misplace . . . like wallets and 3,000 pound automobiles.
I don’t imagine that I will change them. I don’t imagine that I’ll ever have a relationship with them. I’m not sure that I would want to, or that it would be healthy for me. Repairing my reputation is trickier, because nobody respects my family. Nobody believes their lies. But, I am included in that disreputable group.
So, proceeding with legal action would be for (1) revenge – not a noble goal, and (2) to try and obtain a better future for myself by gaining entry into a college or university after obtaining revised grades and / or some settlement money. None of that is guaranteed. The school districts ignored state law, but they followed specific court orders once issued. I just wasn’t able to get every violation examined by the court, and the court wasn’t timely in issuing its orders.
On the other hand, after qualifying graduates don their blue or golden cords and the Principal, Valedictorian, and Salutatorian speak, changing my GPA and class rank costs the district nothing. So, I might get something because it's an easy course of action.
A year, or two years, ago I could not have written this. I was too angry. There was no question in my mind that I would do every legal thing that I could to extract that pound of flesh closest the heart. But, I have found that it is the worry and the lack of choice that is damning. Worrying about giving the boss of the group home a blowie is far worse than actually doing it. A shot of Listerine later, it is almost forgotten.
In a quarter I will be graduating in the middle of my class from what is possibly, academically, the worst accredited high school in the state. Which does not offer much in the way of helping me move on to anything better. The diploma is literally just a piece of fairly-nice paper.
I don’t doubt that I could have done far better for myself had I not been required to deal with my batshit and drunken family over the past four years. (I have written before, under different pseudonyms and from different emails and I don’t really want to rehash all the issues. Suffice it to say that I have been bounced around five different homes – with three different legal guardians as well as the state, twice – while attending three different high schools.
Between now and my graduation ceremony, I will also become 18. That event will mean that I can bring suit in state courts against a number of actual and artificial persons – to include my mother, father, one set of grandparents, and two school districts . . . criminals employed by the state sadly have qualified immunity. I have spoken to two attorneys who would each be willing to do so on my behalf.
Or . . . I could just move on.
Shortly before Easter – and please forgive the blatant symbolism, in my youth I was afflicted by religious influences – I thought that I would reach out to my father and offer a new relationship between us based on us both being adults. That did not go well – in his opinion the police were wrong, the courts were wrong, the video was doctored, and his fuck-buddy is Jesus . . . maybe Jesus’ dad . . . or possibly Jesus, Casper, George Burns, and John Lennon.
Dealing with my family means dealing with a caricature of myself. Dealing with the way that they see me. Queer: well, I have had more intimate female friends than male ones . . . because I hang with those whom I share interests with, befriend those whom I can trust, and love those who are capable of returning my love. Brother-fucker: didn’t happen, but we are close confidants. Teacher-fucker: didn’t happen, he just thought I had potential. Thief: I lived with falling-down drunks who can’t remember where they leave things most people don’t misplace . . . like wallets and 3,000 pound automobiles.
I don’t imagine that I will change them. I don’t imagine that I’ll ever have a relationship with them. I’m not sure that I would want to, or that it would be healthy for me. Repairing my reputation is trickier, because nobody respects my family. Nobody believes their lies. But, I am included in that disreputable group.
So, proceeding with legal action would be for (1) revenge – not a noble goal, and (2) to try and obtain a better future for myself by gaining entry into a college or university after obtaining revised grades and / or some settlement money. None of that is guaranteed. The school districts ignored state law, but they followed specific court orders once issued. I just wasn’t able to get every violation examined by the court, and the court wasn’t timely in issuing its orders.
On the other hand, after qualifying graduates don their blue or golden cords and the Principal, Valedictorian, and Salutatorian speak, changing my GPA and class rank costs the district nothing. So, I might get something because it's an easy course of action.
A year, or two years, ago I could not have written this. I was too angry. There was no question in my mind that I would do every legal thing that I could to extract that pound of flesh closest the heart. But, I have found that it is the worry and the lack of choice that is damning. Worrying about giving the boss of the group home a blowie is far worse than actually doing it. A shot of Listerine later, it is almost forgotten.