What the fuck? Part 1…

I am 2 and I am watching fox and the hound as my parents are praying for the nations and i keep being a two year old jumping off stuff and enjoying myself when my dad gets up drags me to the other room and just lays into me this cruel talk telling me never to do that again to stop we are praying we need it to be quiet and you doing what you are doing is not going to happen. I was 2. I didn’t know what to do so I just sat cold in front of fox and the hound while they prayed and sought the Lord and spoke of the nations like they were all going to hell. This was the first fucking time trauma ensued and it just fucking went downhill from there.

After this, we went to more prayer meetings where my parents would allow other parents to talk to me like I was worthless and needed to be wrangled like a fucking cow. We were in dorm 8 (there was a road that had 8 dorms on it) and went to a prayer meeting. There I was acting up again and the leader of the meeting freaked out at me like I just needed to fucking stop. He then handed my dad this paddle that was huge and made of solid wood. Told my dad that it was time to start spanking even if it was light. I can still see him mouth this shit as they were continuing to pray for nations and them to find the love of god. After hearing my mom and dad praising the fact they got this massive wepon to hit me with.

After that anytime I acted out I would be spanked and it would get harder and harder as a 2-year-old being spanked with a pretty much full blown swing is fucking abuse, abuse that was justified because this god all these folks believed in agreed with it and paved the way for this type of response. We left when I was 4 to move to the ywam campus in New Orleans and the major thing I remember is swallowing a nail. My dad responding so hatefully and seemed like he just wanted me gone or something. He took me to the er to find out kids do this all the fucking time and he laughed. He fucking laughed at me because I swallowed this and was treated me like I was crazy. Both parents where great at making all of us kids feel crazy no matter what was happening.

After the nail, my brother was born and I just got forgotten about… Left out to dry because I was five years older and now expected to take care of myself all while getting spanked any time I did something they couldn’t stand me doing. This was also the year my life just seemed wrong I started feeling so wrong in the way my body was developing like I had screwed up and was the thing controlling my body and how it was supposed to form. I just kept quiet because at this point I was scared and didn’t want to talk about anything because I would have probably been spanked. We are still in ywam during this time and we are still playing the evangelical cult part very well. My dad would become so racist and freak out about all the black people coming to events. I remember him in the back of a big truck handing out water after we experienced a hurricane and any time a black person would come up he would be so hesitant. Like most Christian evangelicals are.

So, we live in New Orleans until I’m six and move to Colorado. We know no one and literally get put into a very scary situation. No house no job and don’t know anyone. We stayed in hotels for a little bit till we could move into a house. This house has so many trauma inducing moments and I’m going to try and remember as many as I can… FIrst anytime I would wake up and my dad was in the living room he would freak when I brought my blanket out like I was committing the deepest crime. Also, anytime my brother or I would watch tv it was always only for a short period of time and this is when my dad started drinking heavy so anytime he would come home we were told to go away so he could watch his shit. Remember he was taught that gods love is the fathers love and how people treated him at ywam is exactly how he treated my brother and I. He painted this picture while my mom was in the background freaking out anytime we would act out while she was homeschooling us. They both really created a lifetime of trauma and this is only the first 6 years of my life…

My 7th birthday party was a shit show because my dad worked and my mom was just not into it. I felt like I was just an annoyance and we had a party but like today and the last week I was stone cold in the face unable to function or even think solid thoughts. Also, this feeling of my body not doing the right thing hating how it was forming and struggling to try and understand what was going on. I didn’t want to take this to my parents because of how they would respond. they would tell me I’m crazy and to not worry about it its probably just hormones. We moved to Portland, Or shortly after that birthday party and the pain grew…

…To be continued…

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My name is Sasha Adele Braden, a transgender woman, who is queer and living in freedom. I knew I was transgender at the age of five because my development just seemed off so I had an inclination something was very wrong. I was locked away because of shame and I decided that I was going to take my truth to the grave and never open up to anyone because I was full of fear. That all changed February 14, 2018, when it all came out. I’m free. I’m alive. I’m learning that life isn’t just eating, sleeping, having sex, and going to the bathroom but it is so much more! Learning that has been a blast! I am also co-managing a grassroots organization called, “REFLECT” and it is all about trans and nonbinary expression through community while being able to completely lean on allies. I am super stoked to be doing this and being a safe place for the queer community of Austin, TX. Look up my Facebook page “REFLECT” for more details. With all of that said, welcome to my life. I welcome all types of people and welcome all types of dialogue. So, drop a comment or two on a post every once In a while​ this blog is mainly just a way to let go of trauma from my past. Expressing it has helped me overcome things I thought I was never going to be able to overcome and I’m living in freedom for the first time in my life.

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