Well, to continue, January 06, 2009 was "D day" for me. I had to be out of my house by then. So, the week before, I had everything packed up, rented a truck and started moving my things into a storage unit. Three storage units to be exact. After 7 years and 3 kids, we had a lot of stuff. I tried to take only the essentials and things that might be destroyed in the heat and cold with me. I moved into my parents house an hour away from Des Moines. My son had his own room and my daughters slept with me on the couch or in my mom's bedroom. I had to start getting up at four in the morning in order to get myself and 3 kids ready to go, drive an hour into the city and get the kids to daycare and myself to work. Needless to say, by the time I got home at night, I was exhausted. I tried to keep up with the kids, keeping their things picked up and making sure the dogs and the cats didn't make any messes.
My mother, for some reason decided to stop taking her Prozac and things became almost unbearable. She blamed me and the children and my father for everything that she felt was wrong with her life. She complained almost non-stop about the silliest, pettiest things. My father always buys all the food in the house. (While I was there, I helped because of course now there were four more mouths to feed.) One night he sat down with a bag of chips and a small container of dip and my mother had a complete meltdown. She began to rant and rave about what a pig my dad was, etc, etc. (my father is, by no means, overweight in any sense of the word) I could no longer hold my tongue. I let loose. I said, are you kidding me? The man buys all the food in the house, if he wants to sit down and have a snack, let the man eat his freaking chips, for crying out loud! In the mean time, my dad had gotten up, put the food away and went to his room and slammed the door. After my outburst, my mom went down the hall and started beating on the door and screaming at my dad about how he had now made her daughter mad at him. I thought, this woman is truly certifiable. Then she went to her own room and slammed the door. She would do this almost every night from that point on. Going into her room and locking the door, which was really inconvenient for me, because that's where all of my clothes were and some of the girls' things, such as diapers. So I would have to go to the door and knock, she would start screaming at me because I was "disturbing" her and I would have to explain that I needed a diaper.
One night I came home and my older cat was sick. She seemed to have a cold. After a couple of days of not getting better, I really didn't know what to do, I couldn't afford a vet and she was so very, very old. I was afraid they would tell me to just put her to sleep. One morning her breathing became very labored. I made her as comfortable as I could and I took the kids to school. I called my work and told them I couldn't come in. I went home and laid with her on the bathroom floor, petting her and talking to her, telling her it was okay to let go. After three hours, she finally did. I couldn't help myself. I wailed for her. After 19 years of being my loving companion, she was gone. I held her until I couldn't take it anymore. I made her a little coffin from a box and put her inside, curling her up the way she always liked to lay. My dad buried her in the little pet cemetery with her partner and my Jack Russell. The three of them together, forever. I miss them everyday but I truly believe that they are with my Grandma and my other two children who passed before me and someday I will see them all, again.
It wasn't long and I just knew I had to get the heck out of there. Someway, somehow. I started looking on a daily basis. I didn't know how I was going to get anyplace, since my husband had completely destroyed my credit. I started praying. ALL the time. I prayed the Lord would see fit to find me and the kids a Home. Not just a house. My prayers were answered. I was finally able to get a house on contract, even in the neighborhood that I had chosen. I was able to move in September 1st, 2009, after 8 months of displacement, living in constant turmoil. In the meantime, things were also changing with my job. Our department had moved from West Des Moines to the southside location. Which put me about 5 minutes away from work.
During all this time my husband had moved in with his mother and gotten himself "straight". He had seven months of work under his belt and had been giving me a little money on a regular basis since about April. So really, things were going quite well for all of us and I truly thought that my husband had left that old life behind and I agreed to let him move into the house with me and the kids under the condition, new house, new life, new start. He agreed to my terms, that should he try to go back to the old lifestyle, he would be booted out and he would leave without an any argument. Everything was great until the stuff between my mom and his dad started up. This really disturbed my husband and I could tell he was a train wreck waiting to happen. Old patterns started to pop up. We argued constantly. Finally, one day, I just knew and I accused him point blank of being on drugs. He finally admitted to it. I thought, well there's a first. At first, I just told him to get out. He wouldn't leave. Eventually we talked it out, he said he was sorry and would never do it again, but I told him I would be watching him very closely from here on in.
Things went as well as could be for the next two or three months. Except at work. Things were getting scary, people were being laid off left and right. Everyone was holding their breath and dreading that their office phones would ring with that dreaded voice on the other end, asking them to come down to Human Resources. I should mention that when they moved us to the southside location, we merged with my mother-in-law's department. I had to work with her on a daily basis. Most people would probably not like this but I didn't mind because she's pretty easy to get along with. Although, a co-worker of mine, whom I was very close to (she's my children's Godmother) didn't particularly care for her but then she didn't really care for my husband either. You can imagine why. One morning, while my co-worker was off work, my mother-in-law got the dreaded call. For some reason, I just knew I was next. I went outside to smoke and called my co-worker at home. I told her everything, including my fears. When I was done, I went back inside and wasn't in there five minutes and my phone rang. This was it. I took the long walk down the long hallway. When I got there, they offered me a box of tissues and a bottle of water. I took neither. I sat and listened to them drone on about how badly the company was hurting financially and how sorry they were that they would have to let me go. I really didn't hear anything they said. I just told them to hurry up and get it over with and just like that, after almost 18 years of LOYAL service, they let me go. It was pouring down raining when I was shown the door. I ran to my car. The drive home was just a blur. As I sat in the driveway listening to the rain pour down, my phone rang. It was my mother-in-law. She was bawling her eyes out but I was just angry at that point. After she let me go, I called my co-worker back. By this time I was the one crying. I asked her, what was I going to do? I had 3 children to care for..how was I going to provide for my family? She said someway, somehow, God would provide. I believed her. On Monday when she returned to work, they let her go as well. Our boss was demoted but given another position within the company. I would have taken that. I would have taken anything. The company was my home away from home. I knew so many people. They were my surrogate family. What would I do?
A month later my husband decided to switch jobs. I felt this was a bad idea but what could I say? You can't control where a person works as long as they are helping out. Although, since moving in with us, the money was coming less and less. He had been giving me $200 every two weeks until we moved. Then he started having excuses. I was lucky if I got a $100 a month and that's only if he didn't ask for it back. Again, the old patterns started popping back up and things with our parents (my mom, his dad) were getting more and more crazy. Accusations were flying everywhere. My brother-in-law was spending a lot of time at their apartment and so was one of my cousins. The next thing you know, they were dating too. So, it all went from bad to worse. Drugs were involved. My father-in-law's ex-girlfriend and his daughter were calling my mother on the phone and calling her every name in the book. I can't say she didn't deserve it. You don't take another woman's man and not expect a little payback. She didn't agree and seemed to think I should be defending her. Sadly, I just couldn't. She was ruining my life but she didn't see it that way. I tried to tell her that this was not the way a 60 year old woman should act. Partying all the time, moving in with another woman's man, doing drugs and drinking every night, hanging out with people half her age. It was embarrassing. I asked her, what would grandma think? She straight up told me that she didn't care what grandma would think, she had worried about that enough when grandma was alive and now that she was dead, she could do whatever she damn well pleased and if people didn't agree they could all go to hell. My cousin was stirring things up too. She would cuss out my father-in-law's ex and his daughter every time they called my mom's phone and she was even threatening my father-in-law, who was still seeing his ex behind my mom's back. The whole thing was so ridiculously Jerry Springer that I just wanted to find a rock to hide under.
One day, I texted my cousin and told her she needed to just stay out of the whole thing and that if my mom didn't straighten up her act, she wouldn't be seeing her daughter or her grandkids ever again. She forwarded the text to my mom. I knew she would and I didn't care at that point. I wanted my mom to know exactly how I felt. My husband kept getting more and more involved and our arguments were becoming more and more heated. I finally told him that we both just needed to separate ourselves as far as possible from the whole thing and just let this thing run it's course because it was just causing us more problems. By this time, his drug use was obvious and I was trying to ride that out as well. I thought maybe if we could just stay away from the crazies, he might be able to gain back control of himself. Then he lost his job. I gave him 30 days to get another one or he would be out. He knew he was already walking a thin line. Then he started staying out all night off and on, again. Things were quickly coming to a head. One morning, after he'd been out all night again, we had another argument that lead to yet another apology. I calmed down but I was still fed up. I decided to let it go for the moment. It was a Saturday. We decided to have steak for dinner as a peace offering. He took my food stamp card and my car and left. He was gone for a couple of hours when his mom stopped over to drop off a bunk bed for the girls. While she was there, my mom called and asked if I knew where my husband was. I told her he had went to the store. She said well I just got home and everything in the apartment is gone. I told her I would call her back. I was fuming. I told my mother-in-law that her son was doing drugs again and staying out all night and not even looking for a job and that I would be kicking him out. She said she didn't want to be there when it happened so she left. I immediately went upstairs and started throwing all of my husband things out into the driveway. He didn't have much, so it didn't take long. Then I called him and said, your things are outside, you better come and get them. You have 15 minutes to get my car back here or I'm calling the police and reporting it stolen. He started screaming at me incoherently and I hung up. I got my dogs and tied them up outside, sent the kids to the neighbor's house to play, went upstairs and got my son's BB gun and sat outside on the deck to wait. I knew this was going to be bad.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Down the Rabbit Hole Part II
Well, before I go on with the whole sordid thing, I guess I should take a moment to explain the relationship between me and my husband. My husband is a meth addict. This was not always so, obviously, or I would not have married him, nor would I have had children with him. I have known him since the 8th grade (1985), so as anyone can see, I've known him quite well for a very long time. We were never romantically involved until 1999. I did date his cousin for awhile when I was in high school but it was never serious. So I've known him AND his family for awhile. For the most part, I always believed they were a good, stable family but like most, they too have skeletons in the closets. My husband and I were just friends for years, however, we lost contact after high school graduation, as most people do. He had went to Vegas to live with another cousin (not such a good part of the family, I later found out) and things had not worked out so he came back to Des Moines for a fresh start. As fate would have it, he applied for a job at the same company that I worked. The branch I worked in was very small, with maybe 30 or so employees total, so everyone knew everyone. I should mention that his mother worked at the same branch, so I guess it's probably not so much kismet as common logic that he would apply there. He did get the job and we began talking again right away, catching up on old times.
Now, it just so happened that a mutual friend was having a birthday party one weekend not too long after and I invited him to go with me (as a friend) just to see everyone else. A cousin of mine was going with me as well and they knew each from school and it was going to be kind of a mini reunion. He accepted and we all went and we all had a great time. After that we were pretty much inseparable, going out every weekend, mostly with other cousins of mine. One weekend though, I was invited to go with him to his cousin's wedding (the brother of the cousin that I had dated) and it was there that he asked me to marry him. As old as we were, we didn't see the need to have a wedding or to wait any longer. So we decided to put in for an extra long weekend and drive to Omaha (because there is no waiting period, you can apply for the license and five to fifteen minutes later a judge will marry you, no blood tests, either.) and we came back the following Tuesday as man and wife.
Things started off very well. I did notice that his drinking had become a little excessive but that was only on the weekends and we were usually together so no big deal. That slowed down somewhat as we settled into a routine. I should say that I moved in with him. He was renting a very small two bedroom house on the north side. It was probably just right for a couple starting out. About 3 months later, I was pregnant. Three months after that, I lost the baby. I was devastated. I had a lot of complications and it was a difficult miscarriage. I thought maybe I was being punished for an abortion that I had had when I was in high school. (Also another story for another time.) It took a whole week before I was actually able to expel the fetus and the pain I had to deal with that entire week was excruciating. I ended up in the emergency room every night that week. So it was a lot to deal with. I went into a deep depression that my husband did not seem to understand and he would get angry with me all the time. He seemed to turn into another person. I was hurt and confused and I felt like he blamed me. He refused to talk about it so I just decided it was best if I kept it all to myself.
Everyone kept telling me that I should just try to get pregnant right away again and that would make everything better. I was in such emotional pain that I was stupid enough to listen to their advice. I did get pregnant again, 3 months later. This time I carried to term but things weren't going well with my marriage. I thought getting pregnant again would help, like everyone said but it didn't. He was, at times, very cruel to me. It was almost more than I could stand. The things he said to me were so terrible that I don't even want to repeat them here. He was in the beginning stages of addiction but I didn't know. I've never done drugs. I guess I'm a square but I suffered from severe panic attacks from the time I was 18 until I was 25, so dealing with reality is hard enough for me without intentionally altering it! Again, another story for another time.
After my son was born things were a little better for awhile. Although he did not participate in any of our son's daily care. I guess I didn't really notice because my husband worked 2nd shift and I worked the 1st so we were only interacting on the weekends. As I said, things were alright for awhile and my son turned a year old. We had a little party for him, inviting only our parents, siblings and grandparents. After the party was when my husband first put his hands on me. He and his brother had been drinking during the party (which I did not approve of, but said nothing) and by the time everyone had left he was in a mood. I can't remember what the argument was about but I remember I had had enough of the verbal abuse and stood up to him. He threatened to take my son and leave. I was not about to let a drunk drive off with my only child so I moved to grab my son from his high chair. That was when my husband stepped in front of me and grabbed me by the throat. He choked me to the floor and I wouldn't normally have let someone do that to me but I was confused that someone I loved and trusted so much could do such a thing.
Not long after that my husband started having trouble at work, sleeping on the job, drinking and doing drugs on the job. Blatant insubordination. Cussing out his boss. As you would think, he was fired. I became the sole provider for our family and that is the way it would stay. In 2001, I began looking to buy a house because the neighborhood we were living in was getting bad. One day while I was looking at a house, someone broke in and trashed the house and stole ALL of my jewelry except what I was actually wearing at the time. It really hurt me because my paternal grandmother's wedding ring was taken, along with my mother's class ring and my own. My paternal grandmother had just been diagnosed with alzheimer's and my aunt had put her into the Carlisle Care Center so that she could get the 24 hour care she needed. This devastated me but I now know that she did the right thing and my grandmother is still there today. I don't visit as often anymore though, because she doesn't know me anymore and it's a really tough pill for me to swallow. I try not to think about it because I miss our talks and the things we used to do together. Sometimes I wonder if someday I will have alzheimer's too. When I do visit, I usually end up crying all the way home.
I miss her so much.
Anyway, the odd thing about the break in was that only my things were disturbed. All of my clothes had been taken out of the closet and strewn about the house, all my drawers had been pulled out and thrown all over the bedroom. My husband's things hadn't been touched. To this day, I wonder why. It could have been him, but it might possibly have been an ex of mine wanting revenge. I guess I'll never know. I felt so violated and it just urged me even more to find somewhere else to live. I finally found a house and we moved in August of 2001. One day as I was taking some things to the new house a car pulled out in front of me and there was a bad accident. Her insurance company didn't want to pay. (She was on SR22) After months of faxing and fighting, they finally did. The car had been my paternal grandmother's and it was important to me to get it fixed.
Unfortunately, as well, my maternal grandmother, whom I was VERY close to and had practically raised me, was in hospice. She had had a stroke and the complications were killing her. She never saw my home. She died later that same month. As I write this now, I am crying. My grandmother was everything to me. I would not be who I am without her. I miss her everyday of my life, 10 years later, it still hurts me to my very soul. I think I would not be where I am today if she were still here.
When I was pregnant with my son, my mother bought me a puppy. A Jack Russell mix. She was the cutest thing in the whole world and I loved her with everything I had. I know some people think that's silly but in my family, pets are people too. So laugh and ridicule if you want but there is no other unconditional love on this earth like that from a dog. (or a cat, I had two of those too, who were starting to get aged by this time!)
Right away though, there was something special about this puppy. There was a crate full and she was the only one not playing. She was sitting in the corner by herself with one big tear in her eye. I picked her up and never set her down. When our eyes met, I knew it was destiny. She was my soul mate. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved my cats. They were my constant companions and had been for quite awhile but as anyone knows, cat love and dog love are two different things. Cats think they are equals with people (and they are) but dogs worship people. They adore you.
Anyway, a year after we moved into the new house, I found out that my 2 year old puppy had cancer. She would have to have treatment for the rest of her life. I was devastated but I learned to cope and she didn't seem any different. We fell into a comfortable routine with her meds. My husband continued to be off and on. Not working, not looking for a job, just alternately sleeping on the couch all day and taking off all night. I should mention that he had sold everything he had, including his car by this point, to keep his habit going, so he was driving my car, jumping into it before the engine could even cool down when I had returned from work. It wasn't long before MY things started disappearing from the house. Not only that but money began disappearing from my bank account and I found out he was forging my checks and stealing my ATM card at night when I was asleep. I started locking things up in my desk at work and sleeping with my purse at night. In the end I had to cut up my debit card. Many arguments were had from this. I was disgusted with him but truly believed that things would somehow get better. I have strong faith.
Somehow, I managed to get pregnant again. This may have been a bad idea. I really wanted a daughter though and I had been taking care of my son this entire time by myself, so in my mind, what difference did it make? About a year after my daughter was born, I got a call from the daycare saying that she was running a slight fever and I needed to pick her up. So I picked her up and took her home. She was just teething, not really sick and it was about lunch time, so as soon as we got home, I made her some lunch. I had just sat down to feed her when there was a knock at the door. I got up, wondering who that could be in the middle of the day, and went down to answer the door. I opened it up and there stands my husband between two VERY large, VERY scary looking men. They say they are police so I let them in. (I probably should have asked to see their badges but hindsight is 20/20) They were indeed police and had picked up my husband trying to sell them his "wares". They brought him back to the house because they wanted him to give up other people. They asked me about it and I gave them all my information, telling them that he was never allowed to bring the stuff into the house or do it around me or my kids. (He was true to his word on this.)
I allowed them to search the house and they found nothing. Of course the idiot wouldn't give any names and they eventually left, taking him with them. He was in jail for quite awhile, much to my relief. I figured this would be the thing that would finally set him straight. During this time I bought another dog, a hybrid half Boston Terrier half Pug, called a Bug. I don't know, maybe I was trying to fill my life with the love I wasn't getting from my husband. After four months he was released with the promise to go to an inpatient treatment program. He went directly into Powell, which was paid for with MY insurance.
During this time, his stepfather was helping me with "man" things around the house which, I was grateful for. Unfortunately during one of the times that he was over fixing something, he finished and then hung around a little longer than was comfortable for me. I kept trying to politely make excuses and saying things to get him to go but he wouldn't. At one point he sat down next to me and started rubbing my back, I was VERY uncomfortable with this and I got up and moved across the room and started doing things and acting very busy. He finally left. He was NOT invited back. As an honest person, I felt that I had to tell my husband what had happened. He used it as an excuse not to finish treatment and to come back home. Things were uncomfortable with the in-laws for awhile but it finally settled down and the man has not touched me to this day. Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill but I know that feeling and when you get that "feeling", something is not right.
Shortly after he came home, I was driving to work one morning and as I was passing the airport a very large industrial snow blower began throwing snow into the street. The street was VERY icy and I could not slow down fast enough. The next thing I knew, I was engulfed in an avalanche. I continued to slow down and I was scared to death because I literally could not see anything outside the windows. It was pure whiteout. After a moment the cloud lifted...too late. I became the tail end of a five car pile up. How the man did not see five cars in a pile on the road below him is beyond me. The man who's car I hit got out and his head was bleeding and he said he had his two grandchildren in the car who were also injured. He told me that the people who he had hit, had an elderly man with them who had a heart condition and that everyone needed an ambulance. He asked if I had a cell phone and I did so I tried to call 911 but at that moment the snow blower started up again. We were instantly buried, blind and deafened, as the monster continued to throw unimaginable amounts of snow at us. Somehow I was able to communicate to the 911 operator, who told me we would be safer if we got back into our vehicles. I relayed the message and told them help was coming. As I had slowed considerably when I hit the pile up, there was hardly any damage and I was not hurt. My airbag had not even went off (this time) although there was some slight damage to the front end. I would have to get the car fixed again. However, the US Airforce paid for that one.
Anyway, things went pretty well for awhile and I got pregnant a third time. Not planned, but I was alright with it. I was a little worried but I figured I was taking care of two children, how hard could it be with one more? At any rate, it was too late to take it back now and abortion is NOT an option for me. Nine months later my second daughter was born. The day I brought her home, one of my cats got sick and after being my companion for 18 years, he passed away. This put a huge damper on my homecoming but I knew he was very old and it was time for me to let him go. I still miss his gentle face.
My daughter had some complications with her birth and there was excess fluid in her lungs. They tried to get it all out but she ended up getting an infection from it and from there started a long cycle of breathing problems. After more than a year of no sleep and constantly cleaning up vomit, they put her on steroids via a nebulizer. I still had to get up in the middle of the night for the breathing treatments but I was finally getting SOME sleep. Because of all of the doctor's bills and the time off work, I began to have financial problems. My husband still was not working and the money strain was starting to show. We began arguing constantly again but it did no good. There were actual fights too but by now, I was fighting back. I didn't care anymore. I was tired of being pushed around and called names. Let alone being taken for granted and used. I was doing all the work. Working a full time job, taking care of the house and raising 3 children by myself was starting to wear me down. The taxes on the house were constantly going up and it wasn't long before I could no longer handle things on my own. At one point the power was shut off and for two weeks my husband took off and ran the streets while his wife and children sat alone in the cold, dark house. I had to rig up a double boiler to heat bottles and I read to the children by flashlight for entertainment. That worked well until they shut the gas off too. After a week of that, my mother had had enough. She stepped in and paid the bill. We changed the locks on the house too but one day I came home to find my husband had broke in. He wouldn't leave and we got into a physical fight. I called the police but they wouldn't make him leave. They said I should stay at a shelter with my children while I went through the process of evicting him. What a joke.
Well there was no way I was leaving him with the house so he could rob me blind while me and the children were displaced. I thought about it and it didn't really matter anyway because I was losing the house by this time. I figured I would just bide my time and when I left he would be stuck with no where to go.
Now, it just so happened that a mutual friend was having a birthday party one weekend not too long after and I invited him to go with me (as a friend) just to see everyone else. A cousin of mine was going with me as well and they knew each from school and it was going to be kind of a mini reunion. He accepted and we all went and we all had a great time. After that we were pretty much inseparable, going out every weekend, mostly with other cousins of mine. One weekend though, I was invited to go with him to his cousin's wedding (the brother of the cousin that I had dated) and it was there that he asked me to marry him. As old as we were, we didn't see the need to have a wedding or to wait any longer. So we decided to put in for an extra long weekend and drive to Omaha (because there is no waiting period, you can apply for the license and five to fifteen minutes later a judge will marry you, no blood tests, either.) and we came back the following Tuesday as man and wife.
Things started off very well. I did notice that his drinking had become a little excessive but that was only on the weekends and we were usually together so no big deal. That slowed down somewhat as we settled into a routine. I should say that I moved in with him. He was renting a very small two bedroom house on the north side. It was probably just right for a couple starting out. About 3 months later, I was pregnant. Three months after that, I lost the baby. I was devastated. I had a lot of complications and it was a difficult miscarriage. I thought maybe I was being punished for an abortion that I had had when I was in high school. (Also another story for another time.) It took a whole week before I was actually able to expel the fetus and the pain I had to deal with that entire week was excruciating. I ended up in the emergency room every night that week. So it was a lot to deal with. I went into a deep depression that my husband did not seem to understand and he would get angry with me all the time. He seemed to turn into another person. I was hurt and confused and I felt like he blamed me. He refused to talk about it so I just decided it was best if I kept it all to myself.
Everyone kept telling me that I should just try to get pregnant right away again and that would make everything better. I was in such emotional pain that I was stupid enough to listen to their advice. I did get pregnant again, 3 months later. This time I carried to term but things weren't going well with my marriage. I thought getting pregnant again would help, like everyone said but it didn't. He was, at times, very cruel to me. It was almost more than I could stand. The things he said to me were so terrible that I don't even want to repeat them here. He was in the beginning stages of addiction but I didn't know. I've never done drugs. I guess I'm a square but I suffered from severe panic attacks from the time I was 18 until I was 25, so dealing with reality is hard enough for me without intentionally altering it! Again, another story for another time.
After my son was born things were a little better for awhile. Although he did not participate in any of our son's daily care. I guess I didn't really notice because my husband worked 2nd shift and I worked the 1st so we were only interacting on the weekends. As I said, things were alright for awhile and my son turned a year old. We had a little party for him, inviting only our parents, siblings and grandparents. After the party was when my husband first put his hands on me. He and his brother had been drinking during the party (which I did not approve of, but said nothing) and by the time everyone had left he was in a mood. I can't remember what the argument was about but I remember I had had enough of the verbal abuse and stood up to him. He threatened to take my son and leave. I was not about to let a drunk drive off with my only child so I moved to grab my son from his high chair. That was when my husband stepped in front of me and grabbed me by the throat. He choked me to the floor and I wouldn't normally have let someone do that to me but I was confused that someone I loved and trusted so much could do such a thing.
Not long after that my husband started having trouble at work, sleeping on the job, drinking and doing drugs on the job. Blatant insubordination. Cussing out his boss. As you would think, he was fired. I became the sole provider for our family and that is the way it would stay. In 2001, I began looking to buy a house because the neighborhood we were living in was getting bad. One day while I was looking at a house, someone broke in and trashed the house and stole ALL of my jewelry except what I was actually wearing at the time. It really hurt me because my paternal grandmother's wedding ring was taken, along with my mother's class ring and my own. My paternal grandmother had just been diagnosed with alzheimer's and my aunt had put her into the Carlisle Care Center so that she could get the 24 hour care she needed. This devastated me but I now know that she did the right thing and my grandmother is still there today. I don't visit as often anymore though, because she doesn't know me anymore and it's a really tough pill for me to swallow. I try not to think about it because I miss our talks and the things we used to do together. Sometimes I wonder if someday I will have alzheimer's too. When I do visit, I usually end up crying all the way home.
I miss her so much.
Anyway, the odd thing about the break in was that only my things were disturbed. All of my clothes had been taken out of the closet and strewn about the house, all my drawers had been pulled out and thrown all over the bedroom. My husband's things hadn't been touched. To this day, I wonder why. It could have been him, but it might possibly have been an ex of mine wanting revenge. I guess I'll never know. I felt so violated and it just urged me even more to find somewhere else to live. I finally found a house and we moved in August of 2001. One day as I was taking some things to the new house a car pulled out in front of me and there was a bad accident. Her insurance company didn't want to pay. (She was on SR22) After months of faxing and fighting, they finally did. The car had been my paternal grandmother's and it was important to me to get it fixed.
Unfortunately, as well, my maternal grandmother, whom I was VERY close to and had practically raised me, was in hospice. She had had a stroke and the complications were killing her. She never saw my home. She died later that same month. As I write this now, I am crying. My grandmother was everything to me. I would not be who I am without her. I miss her everyday of my life, 10 years later, it still hurts me to my very soul. I think I would not be where I am today if she were still here.
When I was pregnant with my son, my mother bought me a puppy. A Jack Russell mix. She was the cutest thing in the whole world and I loved her with everything I had. I know some people think that's silly but in my family, pets are people too. So laugh and ridicule if you want but there is no other unconditional love on this earth like that from a dog. (or a cat, I had two of those too, who were starting to get aged by this time!)
Right away though, there was something special about this puppy. There was a crate full and she was the only one not playing. She was sitting in the corner by herself with one big tear in her eye. I picked her up and never set her down. When our eyes met, I knew it was destiny. She was my soul mate. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved my cats. They were my constant companions and had been for quite awhile but as anyone knows, cat love and dog love are two different things. Cats think they are equals with people (and they are) but dogs worship people. They adore you.
Anyway, a year after we moved into the new house, I found out that my 2 year old puppy had cancer. She would have to have treatment for the rest of her life. I was devastated but I learned to cope and she didn't seem any different. We fell into a comfortable routine with her meds. My husband continued to be off and on. Not working, not looking for a job, just alternately sleeping on the couch all day and taking off all night. I should mention that he had sold everything he had, including his car by this point, to keep his habit going, so he was driving my car, jumping into it before the engine could even cool down when I had returned from work. It wasn't long before MY things started disappearing from the house. Not only that but money began disappearing from my bank account and I found out he was forging my checks and stealing my ATM card at night when I was asleep. I started locking things up in my desk at work and sleeping with my purse at night. In the end I had to cut up my debit card. Many arguments were had from this. I was disgusted with him but truly believed that things would somehow get better. I have strong faith.
Somehow, I managed to get pregnant again. This may have been a bad idea. I really wanted a daughter though and I had been taking care of my son this entire time by myself, so in my mind, what difference did it make? About a year after my daughter was born, I got a call from the daycare saying that she was running a slight fever and I needed to pick her up. So I picked her up and took her home. She was just teething, not really sick and it was about lunch time, so as soon as we got home, I made her some lunch. I had just sat down to feed her when there was a knock at the door. I got up, wondering who that could be in the middle of the day, and went down to answer the door. I opened it up and there stands my husband between two VERY large, VERY scary looking men. They say they are police so I let them in. (I probably should have asked to see their badges but hindsight is 20/20) They were indeed police and had picked up my husband trying to sell them his "wares". They brought him back to the house because they wanted him to give up other people. They asked me about it and I gave them all my information, telling them that he was never allowed to bring the stuff into the house or do it around me or my kids. (He was true to his word on this.)
I allowed them to search the house and they found nothing. Of course the idiot wouldn't give any names and they eventually left, taking him with them. He was in jail for quite awhile, much to my relief. I figured this would be the thing that would finally set him straight. During this time I bought another dog, a hybrid half Boston Terrier half Pug, called a Bug. I don't know, maybe I was trying to fill my life with the love I wasn't getting from my husband. After four months he was released with the promise to go to an inpatient treatment program. He went directly into Powell, which was paid for with MY insurance.
During this time, his stepfather was helping me with "man" things around the house which, I was grateful for. Unfortunately during one of the times that he was over fixing something, he finished and then hung around a little longer than was comfortable for me. I kept trying to politely make excuses and saying things to get him to go but he wouldn't. At one point he sat down next to me and started rubbing my back, I was VERY uncomfortable with this and I got up and moved across the room and started doing things and acting very busy. He finally left. He was NOT invited back. As an honest person, I felt that I had to tell my husband what had happened. He used it as an excuse not to finish treatment and to come back home. Things were uncomfortable with the in-laws for awhile but it finally settled down and the man has not touched me to this day. Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill but I know that feeling and when you get that "feeling", something is not right.
Shortly after he came home, I was driving to work one morning and as I was passing the airport a very large industrial snow blower began throwing snow into the street. The street was VERY icy and I could not slow down fast enough. The next thing I knew, I was engulfed in an avalanche. I continued to slow down and I was scared to death because I literally could not see anything outside the windows. It was pure whiteout. After a moment the cloud lifted...too late. I became the tail end of a five car pile up. How the man did not see five cars in a pile on the road below him is beyond me. The man who's car I hit got out and his head was bleeding and he said he had his two grandchildren in the car who were also injured. He told me that the people who he had hit, had an elderly man with them who had a heart condition and that everyone needed an ambulance. He asked if I had a cell phone and I did so I tried to call 911 but at that moment the snow blower started up again. We were instantly buried, blind and deafened, as the monster continued to throw unimaginable amounts of snow at us. Somehow I was able to communicate to the 911 operator, who told me we would be safer if we got back into our vehicles. I relayed the message and told them help was coming. As I had slowed considerably when I hit the pile up, there was hardly any damage and I was not hurt. My airbag had not even went off (this time) although there was some slight damage to the front end. I would have to get the car fixed again. However, the US Airforce paid for that one.
Anyway, things went pretty well for awhile and I got pregnant a third time. Not planned, but I was alright with it. I was a little worried but I figured I was taking care of two children, how hard could it be with one more? At any rate, it was too late to take it back now and abortion is NOT an option for me. Nine months later my second daughter was born. The day I brought her home, one of my cats got sick and after being my companion for 18 years, he passed away. This put a huge damper on my homecoming but I knew he was very old and it was time for me to let him go. I still miss his gentle face.
My daughter had some complications with her birth and there was excess fluid in her lungs. They tried to get it all out but she ended up getting an infection from it and from there started a long cycle of breathing problems. After more than a year of no sleep and constantly cleaning up vomit, they put her on steroids via a nebulizer. I still had to get up in the middle of the night for the breathing treatments but I was finally getting SOME sleep. Because of all of the doctor's bills and the time off work, I began to have financial problems. My husband still was not working and the money strain was starting to show. We began arguing constantly again but it did no good. There were actual fights too but by now, I was fighting back. I didn't care anymore. I was tired of being pushed around and called names. Let alone being taken for granted and used. I was doing all the work. Working a full time job, taking care of the house and raising 3 children by myself was starting to wear me down. The taxes on the house were constantly going up and it wasn't long before I could no longer handle things on my own. At one point the power was shut off and for two weeks my husband took off and ran the streets while his wife and children sat alone in the cold, dark house. I had to rig up a double boiler to heat bottles and I read to the children by flashlight for entertainment. That worked well until they shut the gas off too. After a week of that, my mother had had enough. She stepped in and paid the bill. We changed the locks on the house too but one day I came home to find my husband had broke in. He wouldn't leave and we got into a physical fight. I called the police but they wouldn't make him leave. They said I should stay at a shelter with my children while I went through the process of evicting him. What a joke.
Well there was no way I was leaving him with the house so he could rob me blind while me and the children were displaced. I thought about it and it didn't really matter anyway because I was losing the house by this time. I figured I would just bide my time and when I left he would be stuck with no where to go.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Down the Rabbit Hole
I believe it was the caterpillar who told Alice to "begin at the beginning and when you come to the end..stop." Since I'm not really sure where to begin, it is still a difficult task. I guess I should say that I decided to start this blog because I needed an outlet. I guess this is as good a place as any.
My life has always been filled with more than the necessary drama (not by my choice) but the last few months have been more dramatic than usual. I suppose I will begin at the beginning of last year, working my way forward with the appropriate flashbacks.
My father became very ill at the beginning of 2010, causing me more than just a little distress. He had been urinating blood off and on since August of 2009 and the situation had become much worse. He had been to the doctor numerous times and they kept telling him that he had high blood pressure and kept giving him high blood pressure medication. His symptoms continued to get worse. They kept changing the medication and gave him antibiotics as well. None of this helped. Finally he made an appointment with another doctor but the soonest appointment we could get was three months away. By this time he could no longer work and was staying at home. My father lives an hour away in an extremely rural area so you can imagine my concern. There were times he was almost passing out from the blood loss. My mother was not around much so mostly he was left alone, isolated for days at a time. (My mother is another story for another time.)
By this time I was thoroughly disgusted with the obtuseness of the doctors. I determined to take time from work to accompany my father to this appointment, armed with an extensive list of symptoms and my fortitude. I vowed we would NOT, under any circumstances, leave that office without definitive answers. I had this feeling in my gut that if someone did not do something soon, my father would be dead. I had done some research with my father's symptoms and had a strong feeling that his kidneys were shutting down and I was desperate. It turns out that I was correct. The doctor we saw that day (God bless him) saw how badly my dad was and admitted him to the hospital within the hour. He later told us that had we not been able to come in when we had, my father would have died within the next 24 to 48 hours.
I was so relieved that he was finally getting the care he so desperately needed. They did some tests and found that his prostate was slightly larger than a softball and it was completely blocking his urethra. He would have to go to Iowa City for surgery. Unfortunately, we would have to wait for more than three months before they could get him in. In the mean time, he would have to have a catheter 24/7. After a week they released him (temporarily) from the hospital and I brought him home, to my house, for the next two weeks.(much to the chagrin of my husband but again, another story for another time.) After his preparatory appointment in Iowa City, he decided he had enough strength to return home and to work. Against my protests, of course.
However, he did get well and the story does have a happy ending. The surgery went perfectly and he was able to go back to his usual routine within a couple of weeks. During this particularly trying time, my mother kept "disappearing". She was staying in Des Moines, at my house, sleeping in the lower bunk of my son's bed but sometimes she would stay out all night, claiming she had stayed at my cousin's. There were also a couple of weekends that she had gotten a hotel room, claiming she wanted to be by herself. This is a woman who can't even make a phone call without someone present or to do it for her. I knew something was going on but couldn't give it much attention because I was so focused on my Dad. Now, I will explain at this point that my parents do not have a conventional relationship. They were not "together" so to speak. They were married for 13 years, divorced and then my Dad more or less became "rebound guy". The guy my mom would see between "real" relationships. Crazy, I know. By this time, they had bought an acreage together, complete with separate bedrooms. Even weirder, I know. Neither one was seeing anyone else but neither were they "seeing" each other. Curiouser and curiouser, I know. However, my brother and the rest of the extended family members have come to accept this singular relationship over the years. To outsiders, it is beyond understanding but to us it is the norm.
Oh, I forgot to mention that right before my Dad's big surgery, in May, I was laid off from my employer of almost 18 years. Pretty devastating. Actually, the entire department was what they call "restructured". Basically, they gave our tasks to another department that was probably already buried under their own tasks. At any rate, as devastated as I was, it did free me up to take care of my Dad and get him to his appointments and drive him back and forth to Iowa City, which I was more than happy to do. I figured I could worry about being unemployed after he was well. That being said, after my Dad did get better, I not only had time to look for other employment but also, time to notice what my mother was doing. She had also lost her employment, August of 2009, with 30 years of loyalty down the drain, also due to "restructuring". Great word, isn't it? Spin doctors...gotta love 'em.
Anyway, my mother and I have not always had what you would call a healthy relationship but I have learned to "handle" her. I guess I had no choice. Most people don't. Since the invention of Prozac, (she takes it, not myself.) things have been as normal as they can possibly be with her. You could almost say we had become friends. Now, I was not the only one who had noticed her odd behavior. It had extended to my in-laws and I was in denial. (Not just a river in Egypt, you know.) My husband had especially noticed it. His father had lost his drivers license awhile back, due to non payment of child support. He was having trouble getting to work, as his live-in girlfriend of 20 years was getting sick of having to transport him. So, at my oldest daughter's birthday party, he casually mentioned to my mother that it might be something for her to do while she was looking for employment. She could drive him to work and take him home, he could give her $50 a week and everyone's happy. I didn't care and everyone seemed to take to the idea, so it took off.
By this time, however, people were starting to talk. How my mom and my husband's dad seemed to spend so much time together. Why didn't my mom seem more concerned about my Dad. I was getting upset. There were a lot of arguments between me and my husband. A lot of arguments. I said, of all the things my mother has done, she would NEVER do that to me. She would NEVER betray me that way and for anyone to insinuate anything else is ridiculous. Boy, was I wrong. I never would have guessed in a million years that my mother would humiliate me in such a way but she did. What really gets me is that when it finally came out in the open and we argued about it, she said they had done nothing wrong and that everyone should just "mind their own f-ing business", but if what she did was so "right", why all the sneaking around? Why go to such lengths to hide it?
It wasn't long and they were getting an apartment together. No one was on board with this idea. Namely, myself. I knew what kind of a low life my father-in-law was and I really didn't want my name getting dragged through the mud by association by proxy. I was completely mortified by the whole thing. I was like, what next? Jerry Springer??? For me, it could be no worse. I knew that this would end badly. There was no other way. This "man" would ruin my mother and this "relationship" would be the downfall of my entire family. I was SO right. By the end, I would be alienated by all my in-laws. My husband would be "off the wagon". I would be separated from my husband, end up in jail and worse...my mother would be coming to live with me.
My life has always been filled with more than the necessary drama (not by my choice) but the last few months have been more dramatic than usual. I suppose I will begin at the beginning of last year, working my way forward with the appropriate flashbacks.
My father became very ill at the beginning of 2010, causing me more than just a little distress. He had been urinating blood off and on since August of 2009 and the situation had become much worse. He had been to the doctor numerous times and they kept telling him that he had high blood pressure and kept giving him high blood pressure medication. His symptoms continued to get worse. They kept changing the medication and gave him antibiotics as well. None of this helped. Finally he made an appointment with another doctor but the soonest appointment we could get was three months away. By this time he could no longer work and was staying at home. My father lives an hour away in an extremely rural area so you can imagine my concern. There were times he was almost passing out from the blood loss. My mother was not around much so mostly he was left alone, isolated for days at a time. (My mother is another story for another time.)
By this time I was thoroughly disgusted with the obtuseness of the doctors. I determined to take time from work to accompany my father to this appointment, armed with an extensive list of symptoms and my fortitude. I vowed we would NOT, under any circumstances, leave that office without definitive answers. I had this feeling in my gut that if someone did not do something soon, my father would be dead. I had done some research with my father's symptoms and had a strong feeling that his kidneys were shutting down and I was desperate. It turns out that I was correct. The doctor we saw that day (God bless him) saw how badly my dad was and admitted him to the hospital within the hour. He later told us that had we not been able to come in when we had, my father would have died within the next 24 to 48 hours.
I was so relieved that he was finally getting the care he so desperately needed. They did some tests and found that his prostate was slightly larger than a softball and it was completely blocking his urethra. He would have to go to Iowa City for surgery. Unfortunately, we would have to wait for more than three months before they could get him in. In the mean time, he would have to have a catheter 24/7. After a week they released him (temporarily) from the hospital and I brought him home, to my house, for the next two weeks.(much to the chagrin of my husband but again, another story for another time.) After his preparatory appointment in Iowa City, he decided he had enough strength to return home and to work. Against my protests, of course.
However, he did get well and the story does have a happy ending. The surgery went perfectly and he was able to go back to his usual routine within a couple of weeks. During this particularly trying time, my mother kept "disappearing". She was staying in Des Moines, at my house, sleeping in the lower bunk of my son's bed but sometimes she would stay out all night, claiming she had stayed at my cousin's. There were also a couple of weekends that she had gotten a hotel room, claiming she wanted to be by herself. This is a woman who can't even make a phone call without someone present or to do it for her. I knew something was going on but couldn't give it much attention because I was so focused on my Dad. Now, I will explain at this point that my parents do not have a conventional relationship. They were not "together" so to speak. They were married for 13 years, divorced and then my Dad more or less became "rebound guy". The guy my mom would see between "real" relationships. Crazy, I know. By this time, they had bought an acreage together, complete with separate bedrooms. Even weirder, I know. Neither one was seeing anyone else but neither were they "seeing" each other. Curiouser and curiouser, I know. However, my brother and the rest of the extended family members have come to accept this singular relationship over the years. To outsiders, it is beyond understanding but to us it is the norm.
Oh, I forgot to mention that right before my Dad's big surgery, in May, I was laid off from my employer of almost 18 years. Pretty devastating. Actually, the entire department was what they call "restructured". Basically, they gave our tasks to another department that was probably already buried under their own tasks. At any rate, as devastated as I was, it did free me up to take care of my Dad and get him to his appointments and drive him back and forth to Iowa City, which I was more than happy to do. I figured I could worry about being unemployed after he was well. That being said, after my Dad did get better, I not only had time to look for other employment but also, time to notice what my mother was doing. She had also lost her employment, August of 2009, with 30 years of loyalty down the drain, also due to "restructuring". Great word, isn't it? Spin doctors...gotta love 'em.
Anyway, my mother and I have not always had what you would call a healthy relationship but I have learned to "handle" her. I guess I had no choice. Most people don't. Since the invention of Prozac, (she takes it, not myself.) things have been as normal as they can possibly be with her. You could almost say we had become friends. Now, I was not the only one who had noticed her odd behavior. It had extended to my in-laws and I was in denial. (Not just a river in Egypt, you know.) My husband had especially noticed it. His father had lost his drivers license awhile back, due to non payment of child support. He was having trouble getting to work, as his live-in girlfriend of 20 years was getting sick of having to transport him. So, at my oldest daughter's birthday party, he casually mentioned to my mother that it might be something for her to do while she was looking for employment. She could drive him to work and take him home, he could give her $50 a week and everyone's happy. I didn't care and everyone seemed to take to the idea, so it took off.
By this time, however, people were starting to talk. How my mom and my husband's dad seemed to spend so much time together. Why didn't my mom seem more concerned about my Dad. I was getting upset. There were a lot of arguments between me and my husband. A lot of arguments. I said, of all the things my mother has done, she would NEVER do that to me. She would NEVER betray me that way and for anyone to insinuate anything else is ridiculous. Boy, was I wrong. I never would have guessed in a million years that my mother would humiliate me in such a way but she did. What really gets me is that when it finally came out in the open and we argued about it, she said they had done nothing wrong and that everyone should just "mind their own f-ing business", but if what she did was so "right", why all the sneaking around? Why go to such lengths to hide it?
It wasn't long and they were getting an apartment together. No one was on board with this idea. Namely, myself. I knew what kind of a low life my father-in-law was and I really didn't want my name getting dragged through the mud by association by proxy. I was completely mortified by the whole thing. I was like, what next? Jerry Springer??? For me, it could be no worse. I knew that this would end badly. There was no other way. This "man" would ruin my mother and this "relationship" would be the downfall of my entire family. I was SO right. By the end, I would be alienated by all my in-laws. My husband would be "off the wagon". I would be separated from my husband, end up in jail and worse...my mother would be coming to live with me.
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