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May 25, 2019
The truth is I am a failure. 100%. I have failed 100%. I should never have stopped being my mother’s caregiver. She is dead because of it. I am a failure. I failed her.
The truth is I had more freedom being my mother’s caregiver than living in this home and this life. At least at my former home, I had my own screened-in swimming pool, my own yard, my own front porch, I could watch television, I could take my mother for drives, my own home, my own everything. Here I am not able to walk a few feet without having to lock the doors because I do not have exclusive access to my own home. I am not able to sit by the pond and watch the animals because it is out of eyesight of my doors.
I have written this more than once; it took every person’s income to be able to afford to live in my former home. My father did not make enough money to afford the expenses of that home on his own, nor did my mother, nor did I, nor did my brother. All of us had to pay in order to be able to afford to live there. They made sure of it by doing things like altering the electric bill making us pay for our neighbor’s electricity, and us being unable to prove they manipulated the system in our electric bill.
Not because we were incapable of living away from each other, or we were just weird people because we were a family of adults living together. That is what I felt the most in the last years in that home. My neighbors, David, everyone around thinking and believing we were a bunch of weirdos’ because we lived under the same roof together.
I would never have redone the landscaping at my former home had I not believed my brother, 100%, that he was going to stay in that home, that he intended to retire, stay, and have that be his home for the rest of his life. I have failed because I believed him.
My Tuesday and Thursday would still be alive if I was still caring for my mother. I am a failure.
If people were truly sorry this would all end, they would legally give me back my life. They would legally end this charade, this reality television, this everything, and give me back my life. There is truly no excuse for anything they’ve done here since 2012. They are not sorry; they enjoy the pain they inflict upon me by making me live in this way. I am a failure.
Bye, bye, baby goodbye by the Bay City rollers in the movie, Love actually, is probably about me in California. There was a greenbelt area – it is the correct name – near our home in Simi Valley, California, and I did go roller skating as a child 4, 5, 6, somewhere around there, we moved to Oregon in my seventh year, there was a small hill, I went roller skating in the greenbelt, started down the hill, I saw the man first – to my left in the trees and not visible – and, then I saw the twig in the path. I was too young to know how to stop, I knew I was going to fall down before it happened. I scrapped my knee on the twig and it happens to be the same knee with the scar from washing my parent’s van. The man responsible for the twig in the path looks like he has served time in jail after the event, most likely, theft.
Goodbye, David. I have nothing more to say to you other than, goodbye.
Goodbye, the real Hannibal Lecter. They will never allow it, or these years like this wouldn’t have happened. They are doing the same thing and things they did when they placed David in my life in college. Either I failed, or they will never allow me to be loved. I saw David, I saw David in pain – a lot – in college and it always looked as though he was in pain over me. But a man doesn’t have pain like that about a woman and never do anything about it, let it go, walk away, date other women, marry another, and never be the man to her. It is the exact same playbook, scenarios they have done all my life in Florida. They will never let it happen. It would have happened already, there is no logical explanation or reasons for this life, none, other than to watch me suffer and die from grief. Goodbye.
I am a failure.
Goodbye.
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