Thursday, June 13, 2013

Communal Living...

This might be a long one, so settle in a minute or thirty.  When you read that title, what do you think of?  I think of things like college dorms, room mates in your 20's, that kind of thing right?  I really never anticipated living with my mother at almost 40.  I didn't move here because I had to, in fact, quite the opposite.  I moved here because if I hadn't she would have lost this house and it's the only constant thing that I've ever had in my entire life.  Let me explain.

Growing up, I lived in the same town, but we moved on average once a year or once every 18 months.  In retrospect, I do understand that some of those moves were situations that were beyond my parents control, but in truth, some of them were just really poor choices on their part as well.  I know this, because I'm guilty of making some of those same poor choices in my own adult life.  You live what you learn, right?  Anyway, so we moved a lot and I HATE moving.  There was always this house, my grandparents house to come to.  This was my maternal grandparents house who are now both deceased.  My paternal grandparents are both still living and we are far from close.  Not sure why I felt I had to mention that but I did.  So when I needed somewhere to run, this is where I came.  This is where I came when I was 15 and the people that lived behind us were threatening to break into our house while my mom was at work and rape and kill me.  This is the house I came to when I was recovering from having my gallbladder taken out and my then boyfriend told me the laporoscopic scars were too ugly for him to be with me anymore.  This is where I've always come when I needed something and had nowhere else to turn.

All of that changed in April of 2012 when my grandmother died.  She always, without fail, bailed me out of every mess I'd ever needed her to.  Financial, emotional, physical, it didn't matter, she was there for me.  I could not call her for weeks and pick up the phone and ask to borrow a months rent and she'd come through.  Imagine going from having that to having no one.  And in truth, that is NOT the case.  I still have an "in case of emergency" person, but it's not quite the same in ANY respect (and if you read this, I hope you understand and do not take offense to the way I'm wording that, you've been kinder to me and more generous with your time and money than I've ever deserved). I feel more alone than I have ever felt in my life.  I can't begin to describe the feeling of loneliness that comes with knowing that the person you always counted on is gone.  Add to that that they left you with a big old mess to clean up and I'm so lost I don't know what to do.  I never realized how deep she'd gotten herself bailing out EVERYONE, because as it turned out, I was not the only one with my hand out.  In fact, I was the one least likely to ask her for help and that was why I had been her favorite.  I remember her telling me all the time that no one ever called her unless they needed money.  I had thought at the time she meant me.  Now I know different.  She was a checkbook to too damn many people and it's no wonder she gave up living.

Back to the topic at hand.  So she died and my mom quickly discovered that this house was too much for her on her little allotment of social security.  She has no other source of income, her husband left her with nothing and her mother left everything but the house to her brother who promptly died in a car wreck (and everything went to his wife who won't help us with a thin dime).  We tried for a very short few months to float our house across town and her house too and it just didn't work.  Our options were very limited.  Sell this house and put my mom in an assisted living facility, and leave my mom to mourn and grieve these terrible losses alone, or move here.  In doing so I did not realize I was giving up my independence entirely.  But it seems I did.  I had to leave utilities unpaid to maintain the bills here, I had to leave my old landlord in the lurch which meant I had to leave my appliances behind as payment, some of which were literally brand new, and in the process of moving our whole house in our mini van yet again, it broke down.  I still haven't gotten it fixed.  I can't afford to.  So now I'm stuck.  I have an extremely limited income myself.  When we moved here, my husband was still on unemployment from his previous job, of course that has since run out.  So he took over my mom's in home support services hours which is a program run by the county so it is a real job IT IS NOT GOVERNMENT ASSISTANCE, please don't be confused by that part.  My use of government assistance I will not speak about here.  Period.  The fact is, he does have a job, but he doesn't leave home to do it.  The problem with said job is, he's not getting paid for it at the moment, so it's been since December that he's been doing it, but he's not gotten paid for it yet.  When he does get paid (which is on the horizon) it's going to be retroactive to when he started so it'll be a hefty check, but still, it's sucked hard.  We BARELY get by.  And by get by, I mean we hit food banks most months and ask family members and friends for help.  Yes, I do own an ipad.  Yes, I do have a cell phone.  Why?  My cell is prepaid and has all of 12 minutes on it and my ipad I bought with my tax refund.  Besides paying off utilities and buying my daughter a nook I didn't do much else with it.  Every piece of jewelry I own has been pawned now.  Including the wedding set my grandma left me when she died.  My husband's ipad was pawned also because we figured we could share.  We keep our cable/internet/phone because well, that's not in our name and we don't pay that bill.  When that was up to me, we didn't have anything but basic internet and phone (I have to have a landline for my pacemaker's communicator) and we had netflix and hulu and no cable.  But I'm not in charge here.

That's the main issue.  I'm not in charge here.  And that is an adjustment for someone like me.  I can't afford this house.  I can't afford to continue to watch people waste frivolously like there is some magical food fairy bringing it all here to keep my mom happy.  It's driven me crazy.  I do mean literally crazy.  Like, I don't leave my room hardly ever.  I don't have an en suite bathroom so obviously I leave it to go to the bathroom across the hall, but past that, I can go WEEKS without going downstairs with the help of my enablers.  I do this to avoid conflict.  I do this because I can't stand to see the ruin this house has become.  I do this because I can't stand to live in a dirty house that has nick knacks on every horizontal surface.  I do this BECAUSE THIS IS NOT MY HOUSE.  I do this because I feel like I don't live here, I feel like I'm a prisoner here.  This is the prison I've made for myself.  I don't know how to change it and I don't know what to do.  I do suffer from agoraphobia.  Pretty bad social anxiety disorder and clinical depression.  I'm just one big ball of fucked up and living in this body, how could I not be?  I'm no longer a functional human being.  I can leave, but it's hard for me to do so, but at this point, I'd rather be anywhere in the world than where I am.

Every time I turn around, there is yet ANOTHER thing to go wrong.  The most recent issue is our refrigerator which is only a couple years old.  Well, we went shopping, filled it up and my mom thought she needed to adjust the knobs or something, my husband did too, and the knob wars began and now the fridge is broken.  Of course, everyone is flat fucking broke so now...all the food's spoiled, my husband spent the day yesterday "too sick" to do anything because he ate something out of it anyway even though I told him not to if it smelled funny, and I have no way to replace the food or repair or replace that thing until either he gets that back pay or the beginning of July.  Fun times right?  Right.

I don't want to live in a place that makes me want to hide in my room.  But I'm so lost and don't know what to do now that I don't know how to change it.  I'm reminded of my growing up, and how we interacted when I was a kid.  I fall back into those patterns even though the truth of it is, I'm bringing more to the table right now than she is.  If I hadn't given up everything for her, she might be living on the street right now, I don't know.  There are times that I don't understand it.  But then I remember that not much has changed since I was a child.  There was always that part of her that put herself before everything else.  Self preservation I guess, I'm not sure.  When I became a mother I feared that in myself, and I hope for myself and my kids I'm not like that, but I suspect I am or I'd leave my room if not for me for them.  I really don't know.  It's been an experience I'm not likely to forget even with my lack of oxygen.  That's on my list of things I'll go ahead and mention.  My mom is not like the worst person ever or anything, just was raised by people that put more importance on her illnesses than needed to be put there.  I think her mom may have had Munchhausen by proxy to be perfectly honest and I'm really not joking about that.  She has respiratory issues growing up and that's led into a life that makes her believe (and I do mean truly believe) that there is no one possibly dealing with more illness than her.  She truly does not believe I am ill and thinks most of my things are made up so I can get good drugs.  Last time I checked, they didn't put pacemakers in healthy people and didn't hand out oxygen tanks for you to get high on.  Honestly, the morphine is another story entirely and I do enjoy that buzz, but I like the pain relief WAY more than the high and resulting nausea.   So yeah.  I think I've written enough to make anyone's eyeballs pop out in shock but I'm going to blast one last thing for everyone to know because frankly, I'm just plain tired of hiding it from people anymore.  I mentioned a tax refund.  How does someone that doesn't work get one of those?  Well, I do have a "job" I just have hid it from most people because it's far from mainstream and my health is such I can't (and don't) always feel like doing it.  I'm an adult entertainer.  Think stripper on a webcam plus "extras".  If you don't know what I mean by extras you've not been on the internet long LOL.  This is I think the main reason that I post so many boob pictures on facebook and twitter.  Half the world has seem me naked, I don't give a shit if they see my tits too.  So, when I can find the time, energy, privacy, and above all, desire to look my best, that's how I make money.  It's not much, because I can't bring myself to do it very often...not because I'm ashamed of it, but because it takes a certain amount of energy to perform like that.  It is indeed performing.  I'd rather it was mainstream modeling or acting like I did when I was young, but I take what I can get.  On that shocking note, I'm going to leave you to ponder.

Until next time...
J


No comments: