One of the hardest decisions to make is asking for help. Having no- where and no-one to turn to makes that decision a little easier.
Pride would keep me from begging, but the suffering of those around me trumps any imperative that I have to retain any of what little I have left.
My parents and I entered into a loose agreement that they would help me out by purchasing a house for me. It also helped their credit situation which is why they were looking to begin with, and I was paying rent elsewhere.
It was incorporated into the mortgage so it was paid through my payments every month and they weren’t out any money. The bank fiddled with the numbers to make it work for them.
I became sick 2 yrs after the purchase, I was deathly ill, growing large lumps everywhere starting over my eye and down into my face, neck, thyroid, into my arm and back. Chronic fatigue and pain became my constant companions.
I was 34 and in the best shape of my life when this happened, you know, the epiphany you have at around 30. I went from doing backhand springs in the park with my kids to being unable to even lift my feet or my head without trembling, jerking and shaking from the exertion it caused. It was worse than that of course, the mental fatigue is exhausting. At 48, I move like I have Parkinsons and sound like I have Alzheimer’s. I shake from any exertion mental & physical, and lose more of my cognitive abilities steadily. I am also losing my eyesight due to the damage this sickness, infection, whatever it is, is robbing me of everything. They have no idea what is affecting my immune system or nervous system.
I received no benefits from where I worked when I became sick or help from WCB or AISH or my doctors.
After staying home and raising my kids, I was ready to start life! It was the cruelest blow.
I grew up in an alcoholic abusive home, My step-father is a mean drunk and my mother is an enabler. She picks and picks and nags until he becomes enraged and physical. He threw her down a set of stairs (not the first time) at 6 mths pregnant. She lost it. I unfortunately was witness from an early age to all of this and this comprises most if not all of my childhood memories.
She lost my little brother too when she disregarded how sick he was to hover over the drunks instead of looking after her son. He was 6 1/2 and he died from meningitis. The last thing I ever heard from my baby brother was his agonized cry when the pain became too much and he fell from his bed and hit the floor.
If your wondering if this got any better, it didn’t. A year later, wracked with guilt and really f’n drunk, I found my step-father with a gun in his mouth. (so close).
I called for my mother and was shuffled off to bed. When the tone of my mothers bitching became pleas, I went to investigate. She held me in front of her whilst he held a loaded pistol and a rifle at me we had to negotiate with this useless drunk. I wanted to phone the police, he’s an ex-con (manslaughter) and she wouldn’t let me, he threw the phone at my head. We finally got him to agree to call his mother, another enabler, who promptly blamed me and demanded that my sister and he be placed in a cab and sent to her….2 1/2 away in another city. He left and took what was important to him, his t.v. and a bottle of whiskey for the trip. Left her with no money for 3 months until we had to go back to her parents farm. Which is where I grew up because we were sent there at least once a month. Every time I read about a family murder-suicide, I realize how close we came to that scenario. If he had shot her, the coward would have come for my sister and myself. He would never have shot himself. I told you, he’s a coward.
I committed suicide shortly thereafter. I didn’t attempt it, I expected to succeed I was terribly disappointed when I awoke. I tried to get help with what I now know was/is PTSD. I went to the school councilor and poured my guts out, which was hard because rule #1 was don’t talk about it. But I was dying inside and unable at 12 to deal with all that was being put on me. She lied to them because he couldn’t have guns (ex-con) in the house and they would have revoked his parole. (so close). She had me sent to mental health for my problem. I was overly emotional is what she said.
I am a boil on my husband’s butt that only hurts him when he stops working and sits down. He has supported me and never made me feel any less for what I’ve become. I missed so much of my kids growing up due to being confined to the house, not being able to stand lights and noise. I am unable to be outside, the medications that were given to me incorrectly have made me allergic to the sun and I develop large painful welts. I had always been active and outdoorsy. I miss it so much it hurts sometimes.
Fast forward 17 yrs later, after paying almost all of the mortgage, they have now decided it’s not my house and they will graciously sell it to me for twice the amount that we have already paid. effectively buying it twice.
This is the second time that my parent will sell me.
The first time, she wrangled a settlement from my real father for child support and then promptly used it to buy her house. She likes to lie that she saved and scrimped together enough money, but my step-father carried his paycheck in cash in his pocket to the bar every night. We spent many nights waiting out in the car for her to cajole him home and stop drinking and spending everything.
She also signed papers denying me my rights to my fathers estate by having SF adopt me. Not for me, but because she wasn’t entitled to anything and I didn’t DESERVE anything if she didn’t. (her words)
He died leaving just me, no kids, never married. His parents had passed.
He had a full pension coming to him from Cenovus after 30 yrs. He had a huge house, and life insurance. She told me this 3 months after his passing and after making sure that she wasn’t getting anything. I could have had a guaranteed Income and knowing my situation, she threw me under the bus anyways.
I should mention that at the time S-F pulled guns on me, I still thought that he was my real father. I found my adoption papers and she promptly lied to my face, even with evidence in hand. I should have taken them. I looked on-line for him for years, questioned all my relatives (who lied) until I found that she had given me an incorrect spelling for his last name. I found that out when he died. Even my formerly beloved grandparents looked me right in the face and lied to me repeatedly. One of my cousins on his side taught both of my kids grade 3 without us even knowing. I also found when he died that he was not alone as I was told. He had 6 siblings and his parents lived 30 mins from the farm I grew up on. I have vague memories of going to meet someone in another town several times, the visits stopped when I was 4. Turns out it was my grandfather.
I’ll never really know what happened, my mother lies like a crooked sidewalk.
She thinks that this was all a normal upbringing, and these are just some of the highlights of course.
She has taken everything from me and now that I am in no position to fight her, she will take my home away. My hubby went to have a talk with them last night and in the course of 3 mins, my S-F threatened to shoot him in the head, twice. He is filing a criminal complaint as I write this.
My hubby has only had seasonal work, due to WCB ignoring a knee injury for over a year, both are now in terrible condition. We’re really struggling but were making it work until she pulled the rug out from under me.
I should mention that they are happily planning a trip to the Dominican Republic as soon as the sale goes through. I can only hope that they become one of the tourists who have died there so mysteriously.
I have looked down every avenue and at the end of each street is a lawyer with their hand out. I cannot do anything without one apparently.
I am hoping to be able to raise enough for a retainer or a kind-hearted lawyer to read this.
I do not know how much I will need or even what to do.
I would like to be as miserable and mean and inconsiderate as they have been to me, but I would take what they owe me in equity ( repairs and appliances we paid for) and move on. To not be beholden to them anymore would be the greatest gift I could ask for.