I know I haven’t written anything substantial in awhile. I’m sorry for that. When I first started this blog I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to do with it other than to be helpful to other parents like myself. Parents that had their own diagnoses that were caring for special needs children. Parents that didn’t have diagnoses that were caring for special needs children. And parents just caring for children. As always nothing I ever do ever goes exactly the way does in my head. Not always a bad thing, just frustrating.
Sep 9 at 1:25 PMThis message is a formal notice of the following: As of September 16th 2016 you will reciveing $900 rather than the typical $1300. This change is permanent and is non negotiable.
Life is chaotic. It gets crazy. And some days it gets so overwhelming you just want to wrap yourself up in a blanket like a burrito and call it a day. For some reason my med clinic nurse thought this was funny. She said she had never heard it before, but that yes she has had days like this too. Seriously, how can you not know about this people burrito concept?
The good news is my med clinic staff are of the opinion that I am doing exceptionally well given all that I have on my plate. I told them how my husband has cut my allotment again. So if I hadn’t planned on moving before I now have no choice. Rent alone is $700 a month and my college loan is also $700 a month. Winter is coming soon and heating costs are not cheap. Car insurance for the next six months is also due at the end of this month. Little Bear and my middle son both have birthdays this month and I have no idea how to make that happen now. It’s at this point that I am really wishing that so much of the disability aid wasn’t income based, but it is. And they don’t look at what my husband gives me they look at how much he makes. Which sucks because legally I don’t have a right to a single penny from his paycheck.
They are relieved to hear that I have decided to move in with my parents to make sure the boys and I stay well and taken care of. The process is under way. Let it be said here that I have serious moving anxiety. So just me making the decision to even move is a big thing. Now to actually make it happen is going to be a monumental task….
Yesterday on the way home from the med clinic I stopped at the apartment, picked up all of Scholar Owl’s learning materials, packed the Xbox 360 (forgot the games somehow?), and grabbed my middle son’s extra school supplies, and then drove the 5 minutes up the road to my parents’ house. That’s it. Oh I did remember to take the fan out of the living room window and lock it. Yes, my parents live 5 minutes away and this is how I move if left to my own devices.
My dad thinks it may have something to do with the moving guys from way back when we were in the military who found out we were Mormon and they were such assholes about it that Dad had Mom take my sister and I out while they packed and he filed a complaint. Dad said I was probably too young to actively recall it but it’s probably why moving upsets me because I have always been this way about it since. Dad said they were pretty bad about it too. Like aggressive bad. Another time when we moved, and this I do remember, a bunch of our stuff ended up missing. It got inventoried like it was supposed to, but it never made it to our new location. Everyone was upset. A good chunk of it was our VHS collection and it wasn’t a small library either.
Needless to say I have never had professional movers in my home as an adult. It’s always been family. It’s still upsetting to see people touching my things and I cannot even express what it’s like when the conversation turns to what should be kept and what should be thrown out. For heaven’s sake, why must anyone feel the need to tell anyone that something is garbage? I’ve seen people do this to my grandmother too without having any idea what the item may mean to her. I don’t care if you think it’s garbage, it might be the last thing somebody gave to her before they died and it may be the only thing she has to remember them by. Did you ever think of that? She is that old and so are the people of her generation. Her friends, siblings, parents, uncles, and aunts – many of them are gone now. Have some decency and compassion by refraining from calling those memories garbage please.
I am no different. Yes, I am still young but I have traveled a good chunk of this country – some places and people I will NEVER see ever again. Allow me to have these boxes of life, these time capsules just for me. What does it matter to you if they are of no value to you? I don’t care that they don’t even have collector’s value. That’s not even the point. The point is they are a salve to my soul in the darkest of days. You can’t put a price tag on that. It’s the same reason you keep photo albums and I don’t shame you for them. When I am dead and gone feel free to photograph them all and label them my memories. After that you can do whatever with them. Feel free to wonder why I kept each item even. If you are brave ask me now.
Hmm… that might be an interesting writing prompt series, no? Photograph the items in my closet and post them in my sister’s blog the Writing Hallow with the prompt, “Your grandmother passed away and you are cleaning her attic and find this in there. Why do you think she kept this all these years? What’s the story behind it? What does it tell you about her?”
Suddenly it makes me think of the first edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons rule books I still have. The game is at what now, fourth or fifth edition? By the time I die I would like to believe that I at least have grandchildren, if not great grandchildren. How many editions of that game will be out by then? Will they even know what this game is, never mind what role playing games are? I hope so.
My husband has pretty much refused to communicate with me at all about the money since that email until last night. He had the gall to call me and ask me what I was getting the boys for their birthdays. I told them I haven’t been shopping yet because rent is due on the 16th for $700, and car insurance is due on the 21st for $280. I still need to pay the light bill which should be coming in soon. So tell me, how am I supposed to feed the boys much less buy birthday presents? THREE times he brought up that I am the one that wants the divorce so I needed to just hurry up and make it happen because he can’t fix it. He also said that he just assumed that I would move in with my parents because I hadn’t had the chance to tell him that I had made this decision. My response? I told him this will not make him look good in court if he continues to fuck over the well-being and safety of these boys. No threat, just fact. I can’t hide the financial record and neither can he. He said he will change it to $1000 and that was the best he could do and then asked to talk to the boys. So I handed the phone to Scholar Owl.
Now mind you that we are talking about a bi-weekly allotment here and this time last year he had threatened to drop me to only $700 a month. I had to fight, beg, and plead to get the $1300 I had been getting for most of the year. Often times he just changes the amount without a word, hoping I won’t notice. Most of my bill payments have been automatic, but it’s getting to the point now I can’t do that anymore because of what he’s doing. It used to be the Army sent me the allotment directly but he cancelled that with his $700 a month threat. He sends it all directly himself now.
I don’t know if it’s even worth proving what he is doing. I just know this bull fuckery has been long and convoluted since the very beginning. It sucks that it took me getting diagnosed and treated for me to even start seeing it for what it is. And now that I know I need to get away. FAR AWAY. But somehow I fear that divorce will not be clear cut, will be just as convoluted, and will not be enough to make this happen.