Get Grammarly, it’s free love, even for your cell. So when you want to bitch slap someone, do it right the first time.
I think she is in Toronto. Lady of the Loo checked in last night, not confirmed yet. Her minions are reading.
Quiet before the storm.
Thank you anon 💜💜🌹🌹🌹
Yes, they were out for 20 lbs of flesh for that statement that she dictated over the phone called the press racist, they did nothing wrong, Felix I lived on the DM comments. The DM was extra careful, the people were great , her followers were terrible, so if she going to blame someone take a look in the mirror MM. You made everyone hate you. You’re nuts! Telling people they were worth air!
Karma is going come around and kick her banana loving ass.
Thank you anon 💜💜🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
My dearest JD: thank you so much for your supportive words. Since this is your platform, you could have easily dismissed my posts as irrelevant. While I will continue to send in submissions, this will likely be my last submission that delves deeply into my personal life. Xoxo, Roseberry
I have a secret to share: my father abandoned me when I was a teenager. Well, to be more precise, he left my entire family. In fact, this year is the ten year mark of his absence. The day he left was like any other day. He and my mom bickered over breakfast, my sibling and I grabbed our lunchboxes and munched on cereal bars, and my dad dropped me and my sibling off at school. Then, he was off to work–or so we thought. He never showed up.
My dad is a physician, just like I am; but a surgeon, unlike me. Quite successful one too; or, at least, he used to be. In my last submission, I mentioned that there’s not much love lost between my grandmother (my paternal grandmother) and me; there’s a reason for that. My grandmother, despite her former position as the first lady of a church, is a woman who’s deeply obsessed with social standings. She’s quite materialistic; and you see, she wasn’t satisfied with the lifestyle my dad led. My dad’s quiet suburb home with a beautiful wife and two children just didn’t scream wealth to her. With her funds depleting after my grandfather’s passing, she desperately needed money. I should specify that her need wasn’t for her survival; it was for appearances among the wealthier members of the congregation. My parents’ marriage have been rocky for years thanks to my dad’s philandering ways; and my dad’s psyche was destabilized with my grandfather’s passing, which my grandmother took full advantage of. She went around her circle of friends searching for business opportunities, and received a proposition: my dad would be a business partner in opening a hospital chain in another country; there was enough market research done in the area; and they knew they would have enough “patients” (they probably viewed them as “customers”). With the estimated profit margin, my grandmother was hooked; she knew my mother would be vehemently against such greedy methods to earn money from patients; so she persuaded my dad behind my mom’s back. After all, my mother was “just” a housewife; what could she do if my dad decided to uproot everything and move to another country? How wrong they all were.
After three days of his absence, my mom was finally able to get in contact with my dad. During those three days, he had not called once or even showed signs that he was still alive. Of course, you can probably imagine the yelling matches that ensued. My mom was no longer a pushover who was going to follow my dad to the ends of the earth; and that was the last phone conversation they ever had.
You would think that my mom would have immediately filed for divorce after this argument; she didn’t. She knew very well of the stigma surrounding the divorce even in this day in age, particularly in the social set we belonged. She knew she couldn’t stop the rumors of his absence from spreading; after all, everyone at the university hospital freaked out once they realized he quit without saying a goodbye to anyone; but she wasn’t going to divorce him. “Why would I divorce him? Am I supposed to let him legitimatize whatever whore he is with?” were her precise words at the time. It didn’t matter that my sibling and I would rather have her divorce him and be free of him then be tied to him, even if it’s just on papers. Without a divorce court forcing my dear father to fork over child support, he apparently had no reason to. For the next couple of years, he would go on to not pay a single dime for his own flesh and blood. Of course, during this time, he was earning extraordinary salary; the highest tax bracket, to be specific. When we finally managed to persuade my mom to divorce him, he ended up paying barely a year of child support for me; and that was the only source of contact I had with him for years to come.
I don’t know how to describe the years of my father’s absence. Since the morning he left, he never called or reached out to me or my sibling to this day; not on birthdays or Christmases. Never. It was like he erased our existences completely. I wish I could say his abandonment hit both of us equally hard; but to be frank, it hit me quite harder. I was daddy’s little girl, always following him around like a puppy and begging for his approval. Unfortunately, from an early age, my sibling was my dad’s golden child; and I was always labeled as the black sheep of the family. It didn’t help me that I was the one who was on the receiving end of my mom’s numerous breakdowns as the older sibling. She would tell me that this was all my fault; and I couldn’t say a word in response. You see, during their last argument, my dad yelled down the phone that the only reason he married my mom was because she got pregnant with me. My very conception was the reason my mom and my dad married each other; my very existence was the reason my mom couldn’t leave him earlier in the marriage; what could I say in response to her hurtful yet true claim? I understood her plight; she had just lost her husband and she was forced to raise two teenagers on her own; it would have been tough on anyone. But in the midst of her emotional struggle, she forgot at times that I had lost my father; I never chose to be born, yet it was me who got blamed.
The reason I decided to reveal something so private on a public forum was two folds. First, I wanted to make an argument regarding Ms. Markle’s relationship with her father. There are some who state that Ms. Markle’s shouldn’t be criticized for leaving her father bankrupt, because her father practically “abandoned” her. I’m not someone to criticize a child who refused to be taken advantage of by an abusive parent, but the reason I’m uncomfortable with such argument is because it sets a wrong standard. When I had dinner with my father for the first time since he abandoned me, I couldn’t recognize the grey-haired man in front of me; he had never sent a single picture over the years. He said his perfunctory apology over steak dinner, and I asked how the hospital was doing as if I cared. I was surprised to hear that he wasn’t doing so well. Despite the initial high earnings, the chain was suffering losses; he was in debt. I thought I had stopped caring, but in the days that followed, a heavy weight settled into my heart. Then one night, I broke down and crawled into my mom’s bed. I told her of my dad’s situation. I was scared. I knew he had no real friends left by his side; he had cut off contacts with his own two children; all he had were odious family members and business associates who were taking advantage of him. I was afraid he was going to commit suicide over such a silly thing like money. I no longer viewed my dad as a paternal figure; I pitied him as a human being for being so easily misled. I begged my mom to allow me to help him financially if he’s willing to accept it; and not so surprisingly, my mom agreed. She stated that even though she resented my dad over the years, she’s the one who won because she has us by her side. Of course, if my dad were the sort of person who went along nicely, these sort of things would have never happened in the first place. Apparently, it’s “none of your damn business” what happens, but at least I tried. I was free from the guilt of CHOOSING to abandon my own parent in need.
I didn’t make that offer to my dad because I’m some sort of an angel. To be frank, I wished more horrific thoughts than I would care to admit. During all those humiliating years of my father’s absence, I wished him dead. I really did. I wished he died–not by suicide, because that would somehow make me feel guilty; I wished he died by car crash or by cancer; because that way, it wouldn’t have been his choice to leave me; I could blame someone else instead of him or myself; his absence wouldn’t be a source of derogatory gossip; and I could actually admit that I was raised by a single mother. I ended up berating myself endlessly for having these thoughts. What kind of a person wishes her own father dead? Even when I finally met him again, it took every ounce of strength to refrain from throwing the glass of water in front of me when he still thought he could talk to me like I was a little girl. So I’m no saint when it comes to my father; yet I still thought of helping him out when he was in need. I’m not saying those who’ve been abandoned are required to help these poor excuses for parents; it’s just that in my personal opinion, it would be wrong to insinuate that leaving them in the pit is somehow the norm; but that’s the angle Ms. Markle and her supporters are aiming for.
Ms. Markle was adored by her parents. My dad never came to my graduations; he wasn’t available for my high school one; and he rejected my offer to attend my med school graduation; without both of my parents, I didn’t go to any of my graduations since middle school. So if her graduating pics with her father were real, her father at least made an effort to be in his daughter’s life; and this would make her disregard for her father’s financial situation quite heartless. Not everyone deserves to be a parent; we all know that. But being an adult sometimes means recognizing the fact that your flawed parents are not superheroes; they’re humans just like you and me; they make mistakes; they’re not perfect; and they deserve our forgiveness sometimes.
The second reason I delved into such private details I’ve told no friends is to remind people of Harry’s goodness. I’m not a “good” person, but if it means anything, Harry’s a better person than I am. He really is. I wouldn’t necessarily say being abandoned by a parent is worse than losing a parent who loved you; my father had a choice to leave, while his mother didn’t; I can blame my dad, but Harry has no one to blame. I don’t remember what I said to my dad the morning he abandoned me, but my last conversation with him is yet to come; as long as he’s alive, I can still try to help no matter how many times he turn me down. Harry doesn’t have that luxury, and I think this finality makes Harry’s situation more heartbreaking than mine. Because I am acutely aware of what it was like to be on the receiving end of prying gossip, I can’t imagine what it was like for him to go through such episodes on a much larger scale. Despite what many believe, Harry didn’t have an easy life; money and luxury cushions blows only when you’re not used to having it. I bet Harry would give all of those away in a heartbeat if it means having his mother back, but he can’t.
One last point I wanted to make was this: describing children of divorced parents as coming from “broken homes” is a quite cruel and ignorant statement. To be brutally honest, my family may have been a “picture perfect” family when my dad was around, but it was never calm within our four walls; it was more broken before he left than afterwards. There were always arguments going on; unless you know what it’s like to be a little girl constantly looking over the master bedroom to make sure your mom didn’t swallow a bottle of bleach to end her life, you have no idea what can go on inside a home. So I know full well that broken homes can exist in families with both parents. When parents scream at one another, they may think they’re screaming at each other, but it’s the children in the midst who remember the words; in this regards, divorce is better for children, because they don’t have to endure endless arguments. Instead of dragging a marriage that ended decades ago, maybe it’s time for everyone to bury what is dead and support the living.
Thanks to all who read this long story.
OMG, I’m so sorry for you 🤢🤢 It’s called marklism, nausea, vertigo, lip-smacking, diarrhea that’s if you watched the whole thing. Best that you turned off and got some fresh air! It’s temporary, thank goodness!
Thank you anon 💖💖
I love this post! 💋💋
@black women anon , What say you? Nothing thought so.
Thank you wink 💋💋
Hey Markle! Hello