Today I spent thinking about how things change, how they stay the same, and how I don't feel as old as I am.
As of Tuesday, I'll be 52. "52" to me is old, stodgy, prudish. I'm none of those things and I doubt I ever will be. I look at my face in the mirror and ask "How did you get this old? Why does it feel like you've missed out on so much?"
I feel like I have so much more life to live...and, as long as I am walking this earth, I plan to live it.
That is...once I get a high-and-mighty bitch off my back. I have been avoiding wrangling with the credit bureaus after finding out that nothing I paid off cleared in a month as expected. It really twists my nose out of shape that they're quick to slap a debt on there and so damned slow (if ever) to take it off.
I think "How did I get here in this situation?" There are times I regret moving out of my house in Green Bay. I could've refinanced the mortgage, paid off all of my bills, put in new windows and a new garage door, put on a roof, and had Keith re-floor the kitchen and living room for me. That house was MINE and nobody could take it away...not like now. I guess the only thing that can be said is I got taken advantage-of and the nightmare isn't over, yet.
Never, since I purchased my first house in 1986, have I faced a situation where I could be thrown out of my house. Not. Once. I've always paid my housing, above and beyond any other bill I had. I have three paid-off mortgages under my belt.
But none of that matters, now. I wanted to move out west and I'm here. I got caught in a tough situation in 2006 and ended up the victim of a predatory lender, who borrowed money to purchase this place when he already owned it. Instead of working out a deal with me, he elected to foist this place off on the person he conned the money out of, and even though she doesn't have clear title to it, she thinks she can evict me.
Security has always been a central issue for me, starting back in my teens. I wasn't so much affected by my father skipping out on us, as by my mother suddenly becoming a raging, violent alcoholic. She'd always been my anchor in chaos and when she turned on me, I lost that. Even so, I didn't start displaying PTSD symptoms till after Rhod pulled what he did on me. He came home on a Wednesday and handed me his paycheck as usual. He came home the following night and informed me he was moving out and he needed the check back so he could rent a place. Just. Like. That. I found out later it was because his girl-on-the-side refused to part her legs till he moved out on me. Then I found out even later that he'd married me because all his friends told him not to.
I became a hermit for the next 4 years and about the only person I saw was my friend Keith, who refused to let me remain a hermit. Of course, when I stopped being a hermit I was thrown into another bad situation, but that's another story. Let's put it this way: Nobody gets to sit me on a chair and belittle me in front of others, ever again. Nobody gets to trap me and try to force me to make a decision in their favor, ever again.
Then there was M and T. M and I had stopped any sort of physical relationship pretty much since right before I moved west, but a part of me still hoped that something would change. Then T came along, and got invited in, and got everything I'd sat and hoped-for for the past some-odd years. I was devastated. I was angry. I was jealous, and I had cause. It threw me into such a state that my online relationship suffered and then fell apart. Suddenly I was alone and didn't feel I had anyone. Again. PTSD? That's an understatement.
Yes, I came through it and yes, M and I are still companions, albeit without any physical romance. Yes, I got back together with my online beau. Things sailed along just fine until we were dumb enough to put up the Oathbreaker, who then proceeded to steal us blind.
I am still angry over the loss of my family's years-long collection of silver coins but I know I'll never see them again.
Then, just as soon as we get rid of her for good, here comes the Holier-than-Thou-Runs-Off-To-Help-Impoverished-In-Mexico. Obviously she was "taken care of" from her birth all the way through her marriage, because she doesn't have a lick of horse sense. Yes, she ran off and joined the Peace Corps in her 60s, but so what? For all intents and purposes, she did it for the prestige. She may think of herself as altruistic but that altruism ends when it comes to a low-income, disabled person right under her own nose. I tried to work with the woman but because she doesn't have clear title to this mobile home, we were advised to ignore her. Well...she got herself one of the worst lawyers in the area and decided to sue to evict me from a house she doesn't even own. When her lawyer began his harassment I was thrown into PTSD again like there's no tomorrow, until I realized that the papers he was pasting on our front door weren't worth the ink they were printed with. And yet...here I am, and I will lose this house. I could fight for it and probably win, but why? Crack in the roof lets in rain and now there's mold in M's closet. The toilet in the front bathroom was never repaired correctly, resulting in some minor floor damage and a toilet that has to be flushed with a bucket. The cheap carpeting they put on the front steps wore out within a couple of years, and has had to be cut off and prepped for painting. I could go on, but what's the point?
The only point I hoped to make is that my basic security has been an issue for me for most of my life and no matter how many antidepressants I take or counseling I get, it always will be, until I am finally, once again, in a house I can call mine that isn't going to be taken away as long as I pay the mortgage...which I will always do, faithfully.
I do miss green. I was looking at a friend's pictures from Oshkosh, WI and sighing because everything is moist and green. I sincerely wish we could move somewhere where I can have that again but chances are we're going to either stay in this park or move to the one two parks down. Still in the desert, where everything is pretty much brown. I want green. I can still remember my friend from San Diego coming to visit us in Wisconsin years ago and remarking, time and again, how green everything was.
Ah well...I'm off to play a game. Enough thinking for one night.