u/cut-and-dry

Hey everyone! I'm u/cut-and-dry, a founding moderator of r/AccidentalArtwork.
This is our new home for all things related to accidental artwork.

The primary goal of this sub is to aim to be fun and inclusive, not exclusionary.

Inspired by many great pages that came before us, this sub seeks to include all art genres as a way to enjoy a vast array of styles without becoming hung up on what falls into which category. We're excited to have you join us!

What to Post
Did you take a picture that feels like it resembles a beloved artistic genre? Post it here! Simply tag your post with an applicable flair to help members navigate their favorite genres within the sub. If you’re caught up on which genre to choose, don’t worry! There is a flair for that called “Accidental… idk? Help me decide.”

Community Vibe
We're all about sharing accidental artwork in a way that feels enjoyable without fear of criticism. Let's build a space where everyone feels comfortable sharing and connecting. We want to strongly encourage our members away from getting caught up in rigid labeling. After all, art is subjective!

Of course, if someone is posting things that are way way off of the “main road,” feel free to message mods.

How to Get Started

1. Introduce yourself in the comments below.
2. Post something today! Even a simple question can spark a great conversation.
3. If you know someone who would love this community, invite them to join.
4. Interested in helping out? We're always looking for new moderators, so feel free to reach out to me to apply.

Thanks for being part of the very first wave. Together, let's make r/AccidentalArtwork amazing.

Hi all. 33F here. I need to get this off my chest because I don’t even feel like it’s real, but it is. Huge thanks to anyone who is able to hear me tonight. I think I just need someone to know.

ETA I should’ve clarified this in the original post. I don’t push my step sister to talk to me. I reach out once every couple of years and just let her know I’m thinking about her/try to bring up a common interest. I’ve gotten a response maybe twice? Last time was 5, maybe 6 years ago. When I don’t hear back, I just wait another couple of years. I always want her to know I’m here if she needs me, but I will never demand her presence.

Here goes:

For some background, I grew up in a pretty abusive/neglectful household that was nestled in between the pretty palm trees, ritzy retailers and pristine beaches of South Florida. From the outside, you’d never know what us kids were dealing with.

It’s taken me a long time to reconcile the parents I had vs the parents I wish I’d had. As a kid, I absolutely hated them. I called them out on their shit constantly.

In my adulthood, there was a level of denial there - somehow I managed to convince myself that it was never really their fault when, despite them having tons of money, I didn’t have any food to eat at lunch or clothes to wear that weren’t two sizes too small. Maybe, I thought, my going to school for an entire year with matted hair wasn’t my mom’s fault because she was too tired to parent me. She did have a 40 hour per week job, after all.

Back then, I knew what they were doing was wrong and I fought with them all the time. I was the kid who thought I needed to protect us all. That was, at least, until I was about 15 years old. Something in me finally broke. I stopped fighting anything and everything. Queue years and years of drug and alcohol dependency and blaming myself for the way my parents treated me. Surely it must’ve been something I did, right? Why else would anyone do what they did?

I did end up going no contact with them last year. I recently reached out to my mom to see if we could figure out a way to have a relationship. After what I heard last night, though, I’m done.

In the midst of my alcoholism/absenteeism, one of my step sisters had to move back in with them during a time of need (she was probably 20 years old at the time). She was the only one of the five of us who hadn’t yet managed to run as far away as she could. In the following months, she developed severe, unmanageable depression from being yelled at and treated like an imbecile every single day. I was told by another sister that she begged our parents for help from a therapist and was refused.

My sister had a cat, one that she had had for 10 years. Our parents (her dad and my mom) begrudgingly let her in their home, but only to be kept in my sister’s small room. After some time, they grew angry because she wasn’t changing the litter box regularly enough. My mom complained about it to me a few times and I never heard about it again.

She moved out and moved on. I haven’t heard from her in years and I’ve tried to reach out to her several times to see if she’s okay. I know we never got super close as kids, we all used to hide in our rooms to escape our parents’ wrath (we usually got screamed at for things like leaving cabinet doors open in the kitchen or accidentally leaving lights on).

I did (and still do) want to develop a relationship with her as an adult but she has been out of touch for so long. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but it still fucking sucks. I just think that maybe she can’t figure out how to connect anymore, and I don’t blame her.

I just wish I could’ve saved us all.

So, here comes the hardest part, the shit I can barely even comprehend and in some ways feel like it must be a misunderstanding and not what it actually was.

Last night, I found out that the reason she moved out of state and went no contact with all of us is because our parents, who were apparently just so pissed about a dirty litter box, went into my sister’s room while she was at work and stole her cat of 10 years. They brought her to an animal shelter in town.

I cannot imagine her grief. I promise I won’t do it and don’t have any plans, but I keep fantasizing about going down to Florida and absolutely fucking them up. Baseball bat, screaming like a banshee.

My cats are the only thing that have kept me from ending my own life so many times, especially back when I was drinking. I’ll have 6 years sober next week and it may sound silly to some, but I couldn’t have done it without my girls. They gave me purpose. I just cannot imagine.

How could they? Just, how could they?

…

I know I can’t fucking fix it for her. I can’t fix any of it for any of us.