Dragon Journal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragonjournal) wrote2019-10-10 02:01 pm
dragonjournal) wrote2019-10-10 02:01 pm
I'm sorry, what?
Apparently, according to someone, I "never had it hard".
...
I married Bob when I was 16. Why did I marry him? Well, I was pregnant with daughter #1, been kicked out of my house and had no where else to go. His parents wouldn't let me stay unless we were married, so to the court we went.
That lasted until I was 19. In those three short years, I was belittled, had a second baby, belittled some more, cheated on, given an STD, cheated on Again, give a second STD, berated for being sad, and getting further and further depressed.
At 19, he walked out on me. I was devastated. I went from my parents to his parents to him. I didn't know how to be independent. I didn't know how to help my kids, didn't know what I was doing and had Zero skills.
I tried. I really did. I did retail work. I worked at a nursing home's kitchen. I did Nurse's Aide work. And it failed. All of it. I couldn't handle it. My mental health was tanking, and I didn't understand why I couldn't handle all of this.
... Then my grandfather died. And I met Aaron, all within the space of a week. After my grandfather died, he left the farm to me. No one in my family liked that, and contested the will in court. It was long, drawn out and horrible.
Then, 1st daughter fell out of a second story window. Yeah, it was my fault. I admit that. I lost custody of her, and of 2nd daughter. I was devastated, and for the first time in a long, long time, I cried in front of someone. (Aaron)
Bob (ex #1) was smug that he now had the girls, and, I was having a hard time functioning. During this time I had a couple more jobs. Aaron lost his, and things were rapidly going downhill.
(And let me aside here stating, I didn't know at this time, Aaron was a crack addict.)
So, finally, the estate was settled, and I got the farm. Mike - older brother - had been sorta floating between jobs and said he wanted to live on the farm with me. So, him, his boyfriend (now husband), my husband, my husband's son, and our twins all moved into the four bedroom farmhouse. Did Aaron help with farm chores? House chores? Anything? Oh, that would make him a responsible adult.
So, Mike and Jared - who worked full time - worked the farm, and I ran the house as best I could. The problem was, all the estate money had been used to fight against my siblings. So, we were running very poor. Poor enough that when my best friend's husband offered to buy Mike a hunting license for his birthday, he jumped at it, because at least then we'd have protein. Then, there was the back garden, that we had for vegetables and stuff.
... Didn't work out well, because my mental health was tanking fast, and furious and I had a disabled step son and a disabled son to deal with, because Aaron? Not around.
We were on food stamps, we had state medical (thankfully). I had the little money from my job. We were still dirt poor. Aaron spent every cent he could get his hands on, on crack. I had sex with him, repeatedly, so I could go to work. He woke me up in the middle of the night because he needed more money for more crack. Or sex. Usually both.
At one point I found myself paralyzed in bed and unable to get up. Literally, unable to move. I was terrified, couldn't see (didn't have my glasses on) and just paralyzed. It was Mike that realized something wasn't right. Aaron? Once again, nowhere to be found.
Mike managed to coax me out of bed, but I spent the day curled up on the couch, away from everyone. Jared spent the day trying to get me to talk. That was day 1 of 196 that I spent too freaked, too frightened to walk out on my porch.
Over six months. Mike had to find a therapist who was willing to fight state insurance to have the right to visit me out at the farm. For a while, all she did was call, but that didn't work because the phone would be intermittently shut off, because money was, as always, a factor. So, eventually, she started coming to the house. I didn't like her. I knew she was a mandated reporter, and everything was shabby. Everything was clean, but it wasn't in good condition and it terrified me that she might report us for not having the newest/best stuff.
By the time I managed to make it to my porch, Mike had put down an ultimatum: Either Aaron went, or he did. He was tired of working his ass off, trying to make a life, and finding out that Aaron sold the TV, or the VCR, or the DVD player, or - one time - tried to sell Jared's computer.
I moved out with Aaron, just down the street. I tried to help Aaron. I tried to help. I tried to do everything he wanted of me. But by this time, my pain was ratcheting up, my body was starting to deteriorate, and I just wasn't doing well, mentally. See, Aaron's thing was, if I couldn't get SSI for being "crazy" then I didn't get to take medications. Because they weren't helping. On Effexor, I slept 23 hours a day. One Effexor/Wellbutrin combo? I was either asleep or up and shaking like a heroin addict. On Prozac? Slept all day. So, had all this going on, and then Mike announced he was selling the farm and moving with Jared to Virginia, because Jared had the chance at a really nice job.
By this time, 9/11 had happened, and I was struggling with what that meant, and what I could do, and what I should do, and my mental health tanking even more. Mike, eventually, ended up in South Carolina, because he and Jared wanted to serve. Well, they couldn't (Don't Ask Don't Tell was bullshit). So, Mike became a drill instructor. Which sent me, once again, into a "Please don't die" tailspin. (Look, the drill sergeant in "In the Army" went into battle! I never said I was Rational.)
Then, after the third time Aaron was arrested for child support/driving a vehicle while suspended... I left. I begged for help. None of my family gave it, but Jared's dad did. I moved out, into a shelter, then into a cheap, sleazy apartment. I met someone - a couple of someones - and thought it would be alright. N O P E.
Jared's dad lost his: job, car, house in six months. All because of health issues. I became his chauffeur. His, his ex wife's and his lazy ass, younger son. Jared went into the army, his younger brother dropped outta school. (I suspect he has MAJOR mental issues, but what do I know?)
And then he died. Jared's dad died (and Jared and I both wonder if his younger brother had something to do with it. Wouldn't be the first time). I didn't know what to do. I was going to have freedom. I wanted it.
But I had a friend... Oh. St. Sarah. I won't go into her here.
Don't tell me, I haven't been through some shit.
...
I married Bob when I was 16. Why did I marry him? Well, I was pregnant with daughter #1, been kicked out of my house and had no where else to go. His parents wouldn't let me stay unless we were married, so to the court we went.
That lasted until I was 19. In those three short years, I was belittled, had a second baby, belittled some more, cheated on, given an STD, cheated on Again, give a second STD, berated for being sad, and getting further and further depressed.
At 19, he walked out on me. I was devastated. I went from my parents to his parents to him. I didn't know how to be independent. I didn't know how to help my kids, didn't know what I was doing and had Zero skills.
I tried. I really did. I did retail work. I worked at a nursing home's kitchen. I did Nurse's Aide work. And it failed. All of it. I couldn't handle it. My mental health was tanking, and I didn't understand why I couldn't handle all of this.
... Then my grandfather died. And I met Aaron, all within the space of a week. After my grandfather died, he left the farm to me. No one in my family liked that, and contested the will in court. It was long, drawn out and horrible.
Then, 1st daughter fell out of a second story window. Yeah, it was my fault. I admit that. I lost custody of her, and of 2nd daughter. I was devastated, and for the first time in a long, long time, I cried in front of someone. (Aaron)
Bob (ex #1) was smug that he now had the girls, and, I was having a hard time functioning. During this time I had a couple more jobs. Aaron lost his, and things were rapidly going downhill.
(And let me aside here stating, I didn't know at this time, Aaron was a crack addict.)
So, finally, the estate was settled, and I got the farm. Mike - older brother - had been sorta floating between jobs and said he wanted to live on the farm with me. So, him, his boyfriend (now husband), my husband, my husband's son, and our twins all moved into the four bedroom farmhouse. Did Aaron help with farm chores? House chores? Anything? Oh, that would make him a responsible adult.
So, Mike and Jared - who worked full time - worked the farm, and I ran the house as best I could. The problem was, all the estate money had been used to fight against my siblings. So, we were running very poor. Poor enough that when my best friend's husband offered to buy Mike a hunting license for his birthday, he jumped at it, because at least then we'd have protein. Then, there was the back garden, that we had for vegetables and stuff.
... Didn't work out well, because my mental health was tanking fast, and furious and I had a disabled step son and a disabled son to deal with, because Aaron? Not around.
We were on food stamps, we had state medical (thankfully). I had the little money from my job. We were still dirt poor. Aaron spent every cent he could get his hands on, on crack. I had sex with him, repeatedly, so I could go to work. He woke me up in the middle of the night because he needed more money for more crack. Or sex. Usually both.
At one point I found myself paralyzed in bed and unable to get up. Literally, unable to move. I was terrified, couldn't see (didn't have my glasses on) and just paralyzed. It was Mike that realized something wasn't right. Aaron? Once again, nowhere to be found.
Mike managed to coax me out of bed, but I spent the day curled up on the couch, away from everyone. Jared spent the day trying to get me to talk. That was day 1 of 196 that I spent too freaked, too frightened to walk out on my porch.
Over six months. Mike had to find a therapist who was willing to fight state insurance to have the right to visit me out at the farm. For a while, all she did was call, but that didn't work because the phone would be intermittently shut off, because money was, as always, a factor. So, eventually, she started coming to the house. I didn't like her. I knew she was a mandated reporter, and everything was shabby. Everything was clean, but it wasn't in good condition and it terrified me that she might report us for not having the newest/best stuff.
By the time I managed to make it to my porch, Mike had put down an ultimatum: Either Aaron went, or he did. He was tired of working his ass off, trying to make a life, and finding out that Aaron sold the TV, or the VCR, or the DVD player, or - one time - tried to sell Jared's computer.
I moved out with Aaron, just down the street. I tried to help Aaron. I tried to help. I tried to do everything he wanted of me. But by this time, my pain was ratcheting up, my body was starting to deteriorate, and I just wasn't doing well, mentally. See, Aaron's thing was, if I couldn't get SSI for being "crazy" then I didn't get to take medications. Because they weren't helping. On Effexor, I slept 23 hours a day. One Effexor/Wellbutrin combo? I was either asleep or up and shaking like a heroin addict. On Prozac? Slept all day. So, had all this going on, and then Mike announced he was selling the farm and moving with Jared to Virginia, because Jared had the chance at a really nice job.
By this time, 9/11 had happened, and I was struggling with what that meant, and what I could do, and what I should do, and my mental health tanking even more. Mike, eventually, ended up in South Carolina, because he and Jared wanted to serve. Well, they couldn't (Don't Ask Don't Tell was bullshit). So, Mike became a drill instructor. Which sent me, once again, into a "Please don't die" tailspin. (Look, the drill sergeant in "In the Army" went into battle! I never said I was Rational.)
Then, after the third time Aaron was arrested for child support/driving a vehicle while suspended... I left. I begged for help. None of my family gave it, but Jared's dad did. I moved out, into a shelter, then into a cheap, sleazy apartment. I met someone - a couple of someones - and thought it would be alright. N O P E.
Jared's dad lost his: job, car, house in six months. All because of health issues. I became his chauffeur. His, his ex wife's and his lazy ass, younger son. Jared went into the army, his younger brother dropped outta school. (I suspect he has MAJOR mental issues, but what do I know?)
And then he died. Jared's dad died (and Jared and I both wonder if his younger brother had something to do with it. Wouldn't be the first time). I didn't know what to do. I was going to have freedom. I wanted it.
But I had a friend... Oh. St. Sarah. I won't go into her here.
Don't tell me, I haven't been through some shit.
no subject
How is Mike doing (and Jared)?