Susan and the Bathroom Issues

*Disclaimer- Susan has been cut off for almost 4 years now. 1000% no contact. She is still actively stalking and harassing, but she is greeted with silence. I have been denied a restraining order multiple times. I have a lawyer. This is just therapeutic at this point in time.

This one is a short one tonight, but I'm exhausted. It's typical Susan though.

When I was 13, we (I lived with Susan, my stepdad, and my brother at the time) moved into a new house. It had just two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, so that was of course where my brother and I stayed. It was a wonderfully old house and had a claw foot tub. I loved the claw foot tub, as long, hot baths with a good book was an escape for me (and still is).

 

My brother is 2 years younger, and somewhat lazy. He doesn't enjoy doing anything out doors, and his main goal in life back then was to play ALL the video games and Pokeman, Yu Gi Oh, etc. Well, somewhere in there he'd decided the 10 steps to the upstairs bathroom was too far so if I was in there, the 35 steps to the second bathroom downstairs was WAY too far. He began peeing in bottles and stashing them under his bed.

 

Susan found this one day (she cleaned his room monthly). It was INSTANTLY my fault. Even though there were 5 dozen bottles of pee under his bed, and there's no freaking way I could have been in the bathroom EVERY single time he had to pee, in that past 30 days, seeing as I was on the dance team at school, took 3 times a week ballet, tap and jazz, competition dance team, yearbook staff, and had friends. I wasn't spending all my time after school at home, that was for sure, much less holed up in the bathroom. Well, the doorknob was removed from the bathroom and now, we had to announce every time we were going in the bathroom because she timed us. 5 minutes for pottying, 15 minutes for bathing. She had a timer. It was degrading, and humiliating, and took away my "safe place". Not to mention I have PCOS and endometriosis so sometimes 5 minutes to potty is HARD to force.

 

Around the same time she accused me of being sexually active because I shaved down "there" (again, horrible monthly problems with clots and the like, so shaved was easier, plus with me in leotards and tights for dance, it was much better), and I started using tampons. Um, no. I started using tampons because of the no panties under your dance uniform policy. Susan didn't believe me. I must have been getting some at 13 years old because that's the only way a tampon would fit. Ok, cool. So, Susan started requiring that I NEVER TOUCH THE TRASH in my bathroom. She'd check and count my tampons/pads. If it got taken to the trash I got my phone taken. Because, she NEEDED to know I wasn't pregnant. Cool, Susan.


It was 6ish months later I moved in with my dad (I wrote about that in a past post). I had my own bathroom, no one timed me, and no one counted my sanitary products. Life was MUCH easier, until I had to go visit Susan. (She also has posted EVERYWHERE that my vagina stinks -what?- and it's because I take too many hot baths and have too much sex. Cool, Susan.)

 

(I'm off to enjoy a hot bath, at the ripe old age of 28. Sound the alarms).