I was watching Leverage today and it occurred to me that all those times that I called mom to find out if something was wrong, she had lied to me. I would get this sick feeling that something was about to happen or had happened and I would call.
In the past I had been right about things: my Aunt Josie's death, some news events, breakups and loss of jobs. I would have dreams about dinosaurs like TRex chasing me right before I lost a job or boyfriend.
Correct every time.
I remember being ticked about this for a moment. My hubbie tried to comfort me then he said, " Just think of the panic she may have felt every time something happened and you called out of the blue. She must have been thinking "How did she know?". "
That gave me a bit of a giggle.
On the downside, there will be another death in the family shortly. My cat Ebony has cancer and it's already in her liver. I don't think we'll have more than two months with her but we'll see.
I put back my first cat's pictures and ashes on the bookshelf again. Finally almost done unpacking.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Retro Cookie Press
It's really sad that this style of Cookie Press is considered Retro. There are all these "improvements" to the design. I don't like them. Yes, the trigger handle is easier to maneuver than a crank or twist knob but the bottom place rests too low on the cookie sheet and you get smooshed designs.
My mom and I used to make these cookies every Christmas. Except when I was a teenager. I tended to do the typical teen thing and want to hang out with friends rather than do traditional family stuff. Feeling a bit nostalgic, I decided to undergo a massive cookie project this week and into next week. I've made the long strings of striped cookies and dipped them in chocolate just this afternoon.
I was working on the green Christmas Trees and had just switched over to the red swirls for Christmas ornaments and the handle came loose from the long screw. I can spin the twist knob but it is no longer exerting force on the screw and pushing the press plate down forcing dough out. It just spins uselessly. Hubbie has some ideas to fix it. I bookmarked a press that's "vintage" and identical just in case.
Cookie Press Style
http://www.ebay.com/itm/like/141102437058?lpid=82
I just dipped the christmas trees in chocolate tonight with green crystal sprinkles.
My hubbie "fixed" the old cookie press. He flattened the Screw that runs the length and turns the press and then attached visegrips. It worked great. Kluge win!
My mom and I used to make these cookies every Christmas. Except when I was a teenager. I tended to do the typical teen thing and want to hang out with friends rather than do traditional family stuff. Feeling a bit nostalgic, I decided to undergo a massive cookie project this week and into next week. I've made the long strings of striped cookies and dipped them in chocolate just this afternoon.
I was working on the green Christmas Trees and had just switched over to the red swirls for Christmas ornaments and the handle came loose from the long screw. I can spin the twist knob but it is no longer exerting force on the screw and pushing the press plate down forcing dough out. It just spins uselessly. Hubbie has some ideas to fix it. I bookmarked a press that's "vintage" and identical just in case.
Cookie Press Style
http://www.ebay.com/itm/like/141102437058?lpid=82
I just dipped the christmas trees in chocolate tonight with green crystal sprinkles.
My hubbie "fixed" the old cookie press. He flattened the Screw that runs the length and turns the press and then attached visegrips. It worked great. Kluge win!
January Proposed Schedule 2014
Daily Gratitude Journal: Help to keep an eye on things positive so
as not to get bogged down by negative or toxic emotions that I'm
processing.
Daily Journal Prompt from A Healing Year by Lewis
Daily exercises and green tea: QiGong or Tai Chi.
My hubbie came up with this research. He's concerned that processing and releasing negative emotions might cause that energy to lodge in parts of the body. It could cause physical blocks and festering illnesses. Based on much of the research I have done in the past, this is definitely true.
Journal Review: Reread and reflect on events documented in journals or blogs. Write about insights and opinions that may have changed since then. What is still causing shame or pain?
Daily Journal Prompt from A Healing Year by Lewis
Daily exercises and green tea: QiGong or Tai Chi.
My hubbie came up with this research. He's concerned that processing and releasing negative emotions might cause that energy to lodge in parts of the body. It could cause physical blocks and festering illnesses. Based on much of the research I have done in the past, this is definitely true.
Journal Review: Reread and reflect on events documented in journals or blogs. Write about insights and opinions that may have changed since then. What is still causing shame or pain?
|
Week: 1: Jan1-4
1st
New Moon Prepare Energy Tea for use throughout the Month (Almanac 24) House Cleaning (Almanac 19) Home Peace Ritual (Almanac 20) Dragon Circle Ritual—Dragon Bowl (Almanac 14) Friday-- Joys and Service Ritual (Almanac 15) |
|
Week: 2: 5-11
Resolution Momentum Spell (Almanac 17) 8th Birthday for Mom Seek a Hero—Right about or create a Representation for Inspiration (Almanac 27) |
|
Week 3: 12-18
15th
Full Moon Grief Major Working Nurture Your Project (Almanac 21) Triple Soul Alignment (Almanac 29) Align Energy with Wood/Earth (Conway 41) Carnelian House Guardian (Conway 45, 60) Obsidian Disk Pendant |
|
Week 4: 19-25 What Goes Around. . . Rit (Almanac 28) Closet Cleaning Rit (Almanac 27) Earth Elemental Meditation (Conway 43) Protection Spell (Conway 57) |
|
Week 5: 26- Feb 1
30th
New Moon Introspection Knot Spell (Almanac 30) Experiencing the Earth (Conway 41) Alter Ideas for Earth Elementals—Gnomes and Elves |
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Research Update
I'm using psychology, meditation, ritual, journaling, etc. My hubbie looked up ChiKong. He's concerned that if I'm doing this intense purging work of a lifetime of anger and pain, I might make myself sick. He wants to help me incorporate physical purification to help keep my body balanced. I'll get more into that later.
Must research nutrition
Currently working on schedules on a month-by-month basis, I've got January worked out except for the Grief ritual. I'll be working on those monthly major rites in the next few weeks.
Must research nutrition
Currently working on schedules on a month-by-month basis, I've got January worked out except for the Grief ritual. I'll be working on those monthly major rites in the next few weeks.
Background Part 3
I refused to return to my home town for about 4 weeks because my bro was still living in the house. The lawyer worked with him to get him vacate. He did move his furniture and dogs out of the house marking his official leaving. He took mom's washer and dryer.
I kept going to back to check on my grandma's clock and to close the stupid windows and doors. I was going up every other week to do paperwork with the lawyer and check on the property. Even after he moved out he kept demanding money from the lawyer. The lawyer told him repeatedly he couldn't pay any money out from the estate account without taking care of all taxes, liquidating property and finalizing all matters of the estate with the courts. This could take over a year.
Trying to maintain good will with my bro, I called my Uncle to get him to extend some cash to my bro. My other Uncle who had died a couple months before my father had back in 2011, had some funds set aside for my uncle, the executor of his will, to distribute in the family as he saw fit. He decided to give it to the grandkids. He was holding my bro's on the condition that he clean his act up. In good faith he gave him 2K.
My bro went through that in one week. I don't know how he spent it. He took it out of the bank in cash. I got the account statement because mom's name was still on it and her mail was being transferred to me.
In June I finished packing up mom's things and got as much of the small stuff as I could to the goodwill. I left most of the big stuff figuring my bro wanted to buy the house. He had expressed his interest to the lawyer and we wanted to get the papers drawn up and get that done.
In July things started to get tense. My bro got his own lawyer and the estate lawyer refused to talk to him. It had to be done between the two lawyers in order to keep things above board and clean. I guess it would be a conflict of interest if the estate lawyer had an in office conversation with him without his lawyer present. things could get ugly. This seemed to freeze out my bro and he started taking furniture out of the house in earnest at this point. I believe he was selling it. The lawyer told me at this time that if anything else disappeared to call the police. It was theft of estate property. My bro also challenged the will and the beneficiaries listed on the life insurance policy.
The will had listed the beneficiaries 40: 40: 10: 10 Meaning me: my bro: my daughter: any other grandkids at the time of death. The beneficiaries on the life insurance listed 50 me: 50 my bro. The lawyer wanted the inheritance money to go through the will so we could resolve this dispute of percentages as well as set up the trust fund. My bro's portion was supposed to be put into a trust fund headed by me and my husband. I was not keen on this either. The lawyer told my bro's lawyer that I could just cut a whole check for the whole thing at the time of closing the estate. It was not a big deal. So this crazy shit was holding up the settlement of the life insurance policy. My bro wanted half of my daughter's inheritance. She would get 20% because she is the only grandchild.
I made sure to pick up grandma's clock. My bro had punched a whole in the wall beside it. That showed actual restraint because I really believed he would destroy it to spite me. Mom had given it to me before she died but she had been holding it for me until I could get safe transportation. My uncle was there that day in July that I came to pick it up. I had asked him and my aunt to meet me at the house for advice on what to do about the floors. My bro's dogs had peed and pooped everywhere and I was concerned the floors were not salvageable. While we were looking at the house my bro showed up with his strung-out girlfriend.
We managed to keep things civil. My uncle started haggling him out his behavior and what he needed to do to get the payout from my uncle's estate. He tried to explain to him that it wasn't a guaranteed inheritance but money that my uncle had declared the executor could "disperse at his discretion". They helped up load the clock into the car. The POA's boyfriend helped me a lot at that time. He helped me find someone to help move the clock, clean the leaves that were inches deep by the house and get bills not forwarded to me to the lawyer. I was very grateful at this point.
My bro had shown up reeking of alcohol on this day. My uncle ragged on him about that. My bro's chick followed me into the house when I went to get the seascape pictures from my former bedroom wall. She tried to get me to be easy on my bro. She kept saying he's trying to be good and I shouldn't upset him. She had obviously been scared by him. She sounded like a chick who knew his temper and was desperate to not get beat or get someone else beat.Obvious signs of being a battered girlfriend. I remember that from my own abusive relationship. She had the same desperate and scared energy about her.
I thought things were going to be okay. He was told repeatedly to not take things from the house. I took pictures of everything and sent copies to the lawyer. Then in the beginning of Sept. I went back. I intentionally stayed away for 6 weeks because I just didn't want to deal with anything. I was trying to pull myself back into a normal and calm life. It didn't help that Mrs R called to say my bro's place was broken into. I called the POA's boyfriend and asked him to drive by the house and tell me if any lights were on. I had changed the locks again the end of July. But I had intentionally left the light on in my old room. I had been up there at the end of July just for one day to drop off papers with the lawyer and spent maybe 30 minutes locking up the house and changing the main door locks.
When I went there the first or second week of Sept. I noticed muddy footprints all over the floor, and my jaw dropped when I saw the master bedroom furniture gone. He'd hocked mom's furniture and I just lost it. My chest hurt. I called the police and spent hours at the station filling out paperwork and trying to get them to pursue the charges.
I called a real estate company and set up a time to sign sale papers and called salvation army to pick up the furniture that was left for a whole estate donation. I went back Tues and Wed the following week. The POA's boyfriend hired two people to help clear out the house Wed afternoon. it gave me Tuesday night to pack up all the china and dishes, take out bags of garbage and non-donatable items, and paint the walls white. I also signed the sale contract. Wed morning I got the guys from salvation army to take all the good stuff. That was what was rest of the bedroom furniture, the dining room and living room furniture and all the china and usable kitchen wear. I drove the rest of the donations to the goodwill myself. Whatever they wouldn't take came back home with me to donate to goodwill here. I got the chimney repaired that afternoon, and had the house completely cleaned out of all the rest of the furniture and the basement crap.
Wed evening someone had called the cops about the "fire hazard" on the front lawn. He told us as long as the heaps of stuff was gone in 7 days we wouldn't be cited. The two helpers managed to get it all gone in less than 2 days. I got a call from the POA's boyfriend about my bro losing his shit on the front lawn with all of the house crap on the front lawn. I laughed and danced. I was giddy with it. I didn't realize how the ripples would effect the case.
That weekend on Sat. I came back with a friend, J, and we finished cleaning out the house. The two helpers came back and removed the piano, hifi, and crib. A family across the street took the crib, a piano teacher in town too the piano, and the hifi disappeared 24 hours later.
[The thing that set me off the most was constant calls over that 4 month period from the POA's boyfriend that whipped me up into worry. I started not answering the phone after a while. The gossip just pissed me off. Then Mrs R would question me about my bro and badger me about family therapy and resolving out problems. She just wouldn't understand that no resolution was possible. I stayed with her a few times, and when my husband had to come up with me to do paperwork in June, we had brought my daughter and stayed there. We stayed at a hotel once because we really didn't want to deal with the drama and the possibility that my bro would show up.]
We arrived at the house around noon. Just after I pulled into the driveway, he and his chick drove past in a black pickup. The turned around in a driveway down the street and came back. J and I ran into the house and I proceeded to have a nervous breakdown while trying to call the helpers to get here quick and scare him off. He knocked at the door repeatedly and then left. The helpers and the POA's boyfriend showed up about 10 minutes later. They managed to clean the house in under an hour and left. J and I worked on carpets, floors and paint in the front of the house.
They showed up again and I panicked, although not as bad as the first time. I called the police because the chick was in the front yard screaming obscenities at me and my bro was driving. With 2 DWIs pending, his license was suspended and he should not be behind the wheel. I guess the chick thought J was me so she took pictures of her staring back at her through the window and screamed threats at her. They left again. The unmarked police car drove by 5 minutes later missing catching them in the act. I was also informed that week that no charges would be pursued because ownership of the house and contents had not been formally declared. Without an owner no one had the right to press charges for theft. Even being executor did not give me the right to protect the property.
I was really jumpy the rest of the night and we finished as quickly as we could. I did not get everything done. I wanted to patch the walls he had punched holes into but we ran out of time. We decided to not stay overnight. When Mrs R attacked me minutes after I walked in, it was reinforced that we were driving home overnight. My bro must have gone to her after the first and/or second time he went by the house and filled her full of craziness. She was really worked up. My bro had gotten to her. Up until that moment she seemed to be not choosing sides and then she turned. She tried to lecture me on getting help for my rage problems.
J raised her eyebrow at that. She said she had never seen me like that when my bro showed up the first time he did. I had a full out PTSD meltdown.
I had contacted Mrs. R that Sat. to arrange a place for J and I to crash just in case. I wondered why my bro knew that I was coming and how he knew when. When I went over to see her later that night, around 9pm, she pounced on me. She hollered at me about why I put all of the household stuff on the front lawn. J figured out she was the one who had told him to meet me at the house. She knew when I would be there because of the conversation we had had. J figured she was trying to force a confrontation so we could talk and resolve our problems. We did no stay there even as late as it was. We drove back that night.
Since then the POA's boyfriend did me the favor of letting the chimney guys in to finish bringing the chimney up to code and dropped the keys off at the lawyers. I haven't spoken to anyone from my hometown since then. The phones have stayed silent as well. No more gossip and crap. It took me over a week to work out the pain in my joints and sickness from the adrenaline spike, not to mention staying up all night in the car driving back. J drove most of the way, thankfully. She kept me sane and wouldn't let me be alone. We got some good laughter in as well. Once out of the situation, I could look back on it like a Springer episode and laugh.
I haven't spoken to my uncles and aunts either at this point. It's been months and I'm finally starting to feel normal again.
My bro gave into the demands of the estate lawyer less than a week after what happened on Sat in mid-Sept. and signed an agreement to honor my daughter's inheritance. We got a buyer for the house in less than a month and my bro counter offered so that's done. We also got a buyer for the house in FL 2 weeks after it entered the market at asking price. Fantastic. Just the timeshares to deal with, taxes, fees and we're done.
I'm hoping bro will want the timeshares and we can unload them to him. They don't sell well on any market.
So I'm almost free. Hence the need for complete cleansing next year.
I kept going to back to check on my grandma's clock and to close the stupid windows and doors. I was going up every other week to do paperwork with the lawyer and check on the property. Even after he moved out he kept demanding money from the lawyer. The lawyer told him repeatedly he couldn't pay any money out from the estate account without taking care of all taxes, liquidating property and finalizing all matters of the estate with the courts. This could take over a year.
Trying to maintain good will with my bro, I called my Uncle to get him to extend some cash to my bro. My other Uncle who had died a couple months before my father had back in 2011, had some funds set aside for my uncle, the executor of his will, to distribute in the family as he saw fit. He decided to give it to the grandkids. He was holding my bro's on the condition that he clean his act up. In good faith he gave him 2K.
My bro went through that in one week. I don't know how he spent it. He took it out of the bank in cash. I got the account statement because mom's name was still on it and her mail was being transferred to me.
In June I finished packing up mom's things and got as much of the small stuff as I could to the goodwill. I left most of the big stuff figuring my bro wanted to buy the house. He had expressed his interest to the lawyer and we wanted to get the papers drawn up and get that done.
In July things started to get tense. My bro got his own lawyer and the estate lawyer refused to talk to him. It had to be done between the two lawyers in order to keep things above board and clean. I guess it would be a conflict of interest if the estate lawyer had an in office conversation with him without his lawyer present. things could get ugly. This seemed to freeze out my bro and he started taking furniture out of the house in earnest at this point. I believe he was selling it. The lawyer told me at this time that if anything else disappeared to call the police. It was theft of estate property. My bro also challenged the will and the beneficiaries listed on the life insurance policy.
The will had listed the beneficiaries 40: 40: 10: 10 Meaning me: my bro: my daughter: any other grandkids at the time of death. The beneficiaries on the life insurance listed 50 me: 50 my bro. The lawyer wanted the inheritance money to go through the will so we could resolve this dispute of percentages as well as set up the trust fund. My bro's portion was supposed to be put into a trust fund headed by me and my husband. I was not keen on this either. The lawyer told my bro's lawyer that I could just cut a whole check for the whole thing at the time of closing the estate. It was not a big deal. So this crazy shit was holding up the settlement of the life insurance policy. My bro wanted half of my daughter's inheritance. She would get 20% because she is the only grandchild.
I made sure to pick up grandma's clock. My bro had punched a whole in the wall beside it. That showed actual restraint because I really believed he would destroy it to spite me. Mom had given it to me before she died but she had been holding it for me until I could get safe transportation. My uncle was there that day in July that I came to pick it up. I had asked him and my aunt to meet me at the house for advice on what to do about the floors. My bro's dogs had peed and pooped everywhere and I was concerned the floors were not salvageable. While we were looking at the house my bro showed up with his strung-out girlfriend.
We managed to keep things civil. My uncle started haggling him out his behavior and what he needed to do to get the payout from my uncle's estate. He tried to explain to him that it wasn't a guaranteed inheritance but money that my uncle had declared the executor could "disperse at his discretion". They helped up load the clock into the car. The POA's boyfriend helped me a lot at that time. He helped me find someone to help move the clock, clean the leaves that were inches deep by the house and get bills not forwarded to me to the lawyer. I was very grateful at this point.
My bro had shown up reeking of alcohol on this day. My uncle ragged on him about that. My bro's chick followed me into the house when I went to get the seascape pictures from my former bedroom wall. She tried to get me to be easy on my bro. She kept saying he's trying to be good and I shouldn't upset him. She had obviously been scared by him. She sounded like a chick who knew his temper and was desperate to not get beat or get someone else beat.Obvious signs of being a battered girlfriend. I remember that from my own abusive relationship. She had the same desperate and scared energy about her.
I thought things were going to be okay. He was told repeatedly to not take things from the house. I took pictures of everything and sent copies to the lawyer. Then in the beginning of Sept. I went back. I intentionally stayed away for 6 weeks because I just didn't want to deal with anything. I was trying to pull myself back into a normal and calm life. It didn't help that Mrs R called to say my bro's place was broken into. I called the POA's boyfriend and asked him to drive by the house and tell me if any lights were on. I had changed the locks again the end of July. But I had intentionally left the light on in my old room. I had been up there at the end of July just for one day to drop off papers with the lawyer and spent maybe 30 minutes locking up the house and changing the main door locks.
When I went there the first or second week of Sept. I noticed muddy footprints all over the floor, and my jaw dropped when I saw the master bedroom furniture gone. He'd hocked mom's furniture and I just lost it. My chest hurt. I called the police and spent hours at the station filling out paperwork and trying to get them to pursue the charges.
I called a real estate company and set up a time to sign sale papers and called salvation army to pick up the furniture that was left for a whole estate donation. I went back Tues and Wed the following week. The POA's boyfriend hired two people to help clear out the house Wed afternoon. it gave me Tuesday night to pack up all the china and dishes, take out bags of garbage and non-donatable items, and paint the walls white. I also signed the sale contract. Wed morning I got the guys from salvation army to take all the good stuff. That was what was rest of the bedroom furniture, the dining room and living room furniture and all the china and usable kitchen wear. I drove the rest of the donations to the goodwill myself. Whatever they wouldn't take came back home with me to donate to goodwill here. I got the chimney repaired that afternoon, and had the house completely cleaned out of all the rest of the furniture and the basement crap.
Wed evening someone had called the cops about the "fire hazard" on the front lawn. He told us as long as the heaps of stuff was gone in 7 days we wouldn't be cited. The two helpers managed to get it all gone in less than 2 days. I got a call from the POA's boyfriend about my bro losing his shit on the front lawn with all of the house crap on the front lawn. I laughed and danced. I was giddy with it. I didn't realize how the ripples would effect the case.
That weekend on Sat. I came back with a friend, J, and we finished cleaning out the house. The two helpers came back and removed the piano, hifi, and crib. A family across the street took the crib, a piano teacher in town too the piano, and the hifi disappeared 24 hours later.
[The thing that set me off the most was constant calls over that 4 month period from the POA's boyfriend that whipped me up into worry. I started not answering the phone after a while. The gossip just pissed me off. Then Mrs R would question me about my bro and badger me about family therapy and resolving out problems. She just wouldn't understand that no resolution was possible. I stayed with her a few times, and when my husband had to come up with me to do paperwork in June, we had brought my daughter and stayed there. We stayed at a hotel once because we really didn't want to deal with the drama and the possibility that my bro would show up.]
We arrived at the house around noon. Just after I pulled into the driveway, he and his chick drove past in a black pickup. The turned around in a driveway down the street and came back. J and I ran into the house and I proceeded to have a nervous breakdown while trying to call the helpers to get here quick and scare him off. He knocked at the door repeatedly and then left. The helpers and the POA's boyfriend showed up about 10 minutes later. They managed to clean the house in under an hour and left. J and I worked on carpets, floors and paint in the front of the house.
They showed up again and I panicked, although not as bad as the first time. I called the police because the chick was in the front yard screaming obscenities at me and my bro was driving. With 2 DWIs pending, his license was suspended and he should not be behind the wheel. I guess the chick thought J was me so she took pictures of her staring back at her through the window and screamed threats at her. They left again. The unmarked police car drove by 5 minutes later missing catching them in the act. I was also informed that week that no charges would be pursued because ownership of the house and contents had not been formally declared. Without an owner no one had the right to press charges for theft. Even being executor did not give me the right to protect the property.
I was really jumpy the rest of the night and we finished as quickly as we could. I did not get everything done. I wanted to patch the walls he had punched holes into but we ran out of time. We decided to not stay overnight. When Mrs R attacked me minutes after I walked in, it was reinforced that we were driving home overnight. My bro must have gone to her after the first and/or second time he went by the house and filled her full of craziness. She was really worked up. My bro had gotten to her. Up until that moment she seemed to be not choosing sides and then she turned. She tried to lecture me on getting help for my rage problems.
J raised her eyebrow at that. She said she had never seen me like that when my bro showed up the first time he did. I had a full out PTSD meltdown.
I had contacted Mrs. R that Sat. to arrange a place for J and I to crash just in case. I wondered why my bro knew that I was coming and how he knew when. When I went over to see her later that night, around 9pm, she pounced on me. She hollered at me about why I put all of the household stuff on the front lawn. J figured out she was the one who had told him to meet me at the house. She knew when I would be there because of the conversation we had had. J figured she was trying to force a confrontation so we could talk and resolve our problems. We did no stay there even as late as it was. We drove back that night.
Since then the POA's boyfriend did me the favor of letting the chimney guys in to finish bringing the chimney up to code and dropped the keys off at the lawyers. I haven't spoken to anyone from my hometown since then. The phones have stayed silent as well. No more gossip and crap. It took me over a week to work out the pain in my joints and sickness from the adrenaline spike, not to mention staying up all night in the car driving back. J drove most of the way, thankfully. She kept me sane and wouldn't let me be alone. We got some good laughter in as well. Once out of the situation, I could look back on it like a Springer episode and laugh.
I haven't spoken to my uncles and aunts either at this point. It's been months and I'm finally starting to feel normal again.
My bro gave into the demands of the estate lawyer less than a week after what happened on Sat in mid-Sept. and signed an agreement to honor my daughter's inheritance. We got a buyer for the house in less than a month and my bro counter offered so that's done. We also got a buyer for the house in FL 2 weeks after it entered the market at asking price. Fantastic. Just the timeshares to deal with, taxes, fees and we're done.
I'm hoping bro will want the timeshares and we can unload them to him. They don't sell well on any market.
So I'm almost free. Hence the need for complete cleansing next year.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Books
Elemental Magick by DJ Conway
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1564148335/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i00?ie=UTF8&psc=1
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0879463376/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i04?ie=UTF8&psc=1
Llewellyn's 2014 Spell-a-Day Almanac
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/073872159X/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i05?ie=UTF8&psc=1
Added 12/9/13
Writing as a Way of Healing by Louise De Salvo, PhD
http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Way-Healing-Telling-Transforms/dp/0807072435/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1388368408&sr=1-1&keywords=writing+as+a+way+of+healing
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1564148335/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i00?ie=UTF8&psc=1
Earth, Air, Fire & Water: More Techniques of Natural Magic by Scott Cunningham
A Healing Year: Daily Meditations by Alaric Lewis (It's christian but it focuses on grieving)
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0879463376/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i04?ie=UTF8&psc=1
Llewellyn's 2014 Spell-a-Day Almanac
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/073872159X/ref=oh_details_o06_s00_i05?ie=UTF8&psc=1
Added 12/9/13
Writing as a Way of Healing by Louise De Salvo, PhD
http://www.amazon.com/Writing-Way-Healing-Telling-Transforms/dp/0807072435/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1388368408&sr=1-1&keywords=writing+as+a+way+of+healing
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Background Part 2
The Shit hits the fan--AKA---The Hidden is Revealed.
This may come across as a laundry list of bullshit events. At this point I can't think of any other way to record it. Maybe as I process the past I'll make connections and start to feel what happened rather than just dissect it intellectually. It always starts mentally with me. I forget I have a body sometimes I get so wrapped up in my head.
In December my mother said she would call me about my daughter's Christmas present. She didn't call when I expected her to so I left a message. I received a call from a woman I didn't know and a man who sounded very business-like on the phone. I recognized his name from my mother's mention of her will. He was to be my bro's "handler" and manage his inheritance in a trust fund, as well as be co-executor in my mother's will with my husband. He informed me that my mother was in the hospital. It had been two days she had been there and no one had contacted me. Needless to say, I was pissed.
My bro had seen her Weds and she couldn't get out of bed. He probably screamed at her and then rummaged through her purse and the medicine cabinet for drugs and money then took off. The following day was when he came back and called the paramedics. When I got a hold of her at the hospital she was so out of it she couldn't speak. Her lips were dried and her tongue was swollen from dehydration. It was hard to tell what she was saying. He had left her there to die and was probably disappointed when she didn't.
My bro had moved into the house that afternoon according to Mrs. R. I immediately wanted to know if there was a power of attorney and who he/she was. For some reason she wanted to keep it a secret from me. I made a lot of very angry and loud phone calls until finally the POA called me herself. Once I knew it was JA I was relieved. I told her to go to the house and get the jewelry out, mom's purse and anything else valuable. I didn't find out until later that some damage was already done.
JA managed to get the jewelry, she inventoried it, photographed it and deposited into a safe deposit box at the bank. Then she set about getting a handle on the finances. He boyfriend kept mentioning how much my mother had, how big the estate was. I didn't really understand why he was so hung up on this. I came to find out there was a lot that mom had kept secret. Most of the financials led to a lot of anger. She lied about not being able to pay for Mt Holyoke. She lied about everything being okay. She kept secret all the bills she was paying the drugs she was buying for my bro.
My bro got arrested for his second DWI in the middle of January. His first DWI had been in November. He totaled mom's car. I jumped on as POA thanks to a forward thinking estate lawyer. JA was threatening to quit because of the fraud on the account and the mess of the estate finances. It was hard to tell what was really mom's bills and what was fraud. I started visiting the house to get a hold of her paperwork and destroy as much as possible that was not necessary and file into a system the things that were necessary. It took five full days to go through just the paperwork in that house. The kitchen had 7 drawers of it, four filing cabinet drawers, a drawer in the dining room and a drawer in the bedroom.
JA started to find forged checks coming from the bank to the tune of 14K. We had to put a stop on the account and do what we could to freeze it. The associates at the bank were helpful but the procedures and policies of the corporation made it both impossible to stop the theft and impossible to close the account. The checks kept getting cashed for weeks after we alerted the bank to the fraud. One branch wasn't talking to another. And the police were no help. Because mom was still alive we didn't have the power to protect the estate and take the stand in her stead. She would have to press charges. We all knew she would never do anything against my bro, partly out of fear and partly out of guilt. She blamed herself for his mess. Years ago I had a conversation with her about him, when she expressed guilt in an unusually open moment. I told her his addiction was in his blood and she was not to blame for it. That's only partly true as she and dad were horrible enablers.
We found out it was both my bro and his friend, the co-executor forging checks. We also discovered they were using mom's account to pay their cable bill and had stolen her phone and used it for illegal activities. Then paid for it to keep it working with a fraudulent payment over the phone. We found out in March the co-exec had been picked up by the Feds for smuggling illegal aliens across the border from Canada. The illegals were actually from Eastern Europe. The Feds kept the phone. At least it wasn't being used anymore and charging up bills.
When I jumped on as POA not only did I need to get a handle on the fraud, but I needed to prioritize her bills and pay off all debts with whatever we could scrape together. We used the insurance check from the truck to pay off the loan, it was totaled. We sold the car in April to pay off that loan and all finances left went to paying off any other loans or cards and canceling them. By the time I was done, over three months, I managed to get her finances down to utilities and properties upkeep expenses. If it wasn't for my brother's expenses her monthly bills would have gone down to 500 a month. My bro's expenses added $1200 to her monthly overhead. I had decreased her monthly expenses from almost 4000 a months to 1700 a month.
I traveled up to my home town three times a month to clean, organize and meet with JA to calm her down. Her boyfriend kept working her up over things. She was terrified she was going to get shot at or bombed by the Indians from the Rez. The co-executor was from a prominent Rez family. My bro's girlfriend was also his dealer. My bro was safely locked behind bars until the end of April so I didn't have to worry about being attacked or taken by surprise at the house.
I visited mom in the hospital on my way up and on my way back. She was located along the route I drove to get there. I remember a couple of visits. During one visit she talked about getting together with family for dinner. She started naming people who were all dead. I suddenly felt really crowded in the small room. I could feel all these people or spirits pressing in around us. In my mind's eye I could see the shapes of figures crowding around mom. It was then that I knew she was so close to dying. These others had come to help her cross over. They were gathering to prepare her.
I spent more than one visit sobbing in the car afterward trying to eat lunch in between gasps for air and breaking down. It felt like I was an orphan already. Not something I am unfamiliar with. I was adopted and wrestled with abandonment early in life. Not a fun thing.
There were moments while cleaning the house I lay in mom's bed like a little girl and just felt the waves of sadness. I found my old cabbage patch doll and hugged it. I had moments when I had to stop in the middle of pulling laundry out of the dryer and just let it out. I got so angry. She cheated my daughter out of a grandparent. She couldn't quit drinking. Like she cared more for that than any family she had or could have. She was so consumed with keeping up the web of lies, keeping up appearances I couldn't even connect with her when she came to visit us the last time. It had been a month before she filed her will and less than half a year before she went into the hospital.
If I had really wanted to know that something was wrong I don't think it would have been hard to put the pieces together and figure it out. But I had worked so hard to build a new life totally disconnected from the old that I didn't keep in touch with what was going on. I stupidly trusted my bro to get his shit together and take care of business. I thought he'd protect her after dad died. He owed her that after all the shit that they did for him and all the money they spent on him. Instead he let these leaches and con-artists into her life and took her for every penny he could get. Almost 200K in less than 2 years.
I have copies of the bank statements going back to Jan 2010. I did financial forensics to try to trace where the money came from and where it went; what was legit and what was fraud. The lawyer has all the copies now.
It did cross my mind to try to talk her into selling her house and moving into my house. But at the same time I wasn't brave enough to broach the subject. What would we do for hours in the same house? We could barely be comfortable watching an old movie together for less than two hours. We struggled to find things to talk about and silences were awkward and uncomfortable.
She did love my daughter though. I wonder what she was thinking while she stared at her. She seemed almost afraid to touch her. She'd stroke her back and just say she loved her over and over. I think she knew for a while that she was on her way out.
My bro got out of jail mid April and was there when we had to sell the car. We found a good kid and his dad from PA that wanted it. We had to roll it out of the garage because it wouldn't start. I thought it funny that the door had been unlocked when I know I had locked it. I know for a fact that it worked the last time because I started it up just the week before and it purred. The engine wouldn't even turn over and I knew there was something up with the starter. I suggested maybe it needed a tune-up or spark plugs. When my hubby checked under the hood he and the young man discovered circuits had been pulled from the computer panel. My bro had picked the lock, popped the hood and snatched some circuits out to sabotage the car.
He yelled at us while we were rolling the car onto the truck. He laughed and taunted my hubbie and the guys. The gentlemen still wanted it. I had the foresight to call a police officer to keep my bro under control for the first half of the transaction. When the men got in the truck and the police left I had to walk across the lawn to get to my vehicle. My bro heckled me the whole way. He kept trying to catch me in a lie. For some reason he thinks all this was a lie from start to finish. Even when he admitted to the check forgery and the theft from the house, etc. he then tried to turn it around on us and accuse us of lying. Eventually he got a lawyer and considered suing us for whatever we had done wrong with the estate as POA. I think his lawyer talked him out of it. He dropped any idea of going after JA and I. She must have explained to him that he had no legal ground to stand on. The car was in mom's name and the money was used to pay her debts. He tried to argue that we should give him my car because mom bought it for me. But it's in my name, I told anyone that would listen.
I spent the night at mom's house while she was in the hospital exactly once and only because a friend came to the house and stayed with me. She helped me search the basement for my old stuff and heirlooms. I found some old lace, some toys from my room and the old cuckoo clock from great grandma. Every minute I stayed in that house I was on guard for intruders or some of my bro's friends popping in to make trouble. Luckily nothing happened. But the fear was still there and I hated being in that house. Not to mention the past was heavy in the air. My friend mentioned she could feel snippets of my past, my adolescence and childhood in my old room. I couldn't stand being around that and avoided the front of the house. When I did stay there that night I slept in the family room where I couldn't hear or feel the past as much.
The adrenaline and fear was so much more heightened by the constant phone calls from people who seemed to be feeding off of the drama. I did contact a couple of branches of the family for consultation and support. I got the most support from one of my aunt's who had an alcoholic family member and so could relate to the anger and emptiness. The locals were in it for drama or control. Mrs R seemed to see my bro as a second chance to save her son. He had committed suicide in his 20s while under the influence. He had a long drug problem and she couldn't help him. There's some family secret involving the two boys having the same birth mother and they've known since they were little. They were brothers, not just best friends.
At first she seemed to be trying to be tough and fair with him but then the enabling crept in. It started easily enough with an attempt at explaining to me what his perspective was and trying to get me to empathize with his pain and loss. I still can't decide if my brother is really bipolar or just a psychopath who knows how to use emotional manipulation to get other people to do his dirty work and give him what he wants. I'm leaning toward the latter.
With JA's boyfriend I had to balance two opposites. I knew the drama seemed to be what he wanted. It made him feel important to be in the middle of the whirlwind. But on the other hand he was really helpful. He helped with changed the locks, getting people to hire to clean out the basement and carry heavy stuff. So I had to walk that line with him.
Mom entered the nursing home in February and seemed to settle in nicely. It was a very nice place. The nurses were extra attentive which may have something to do with the daily random visits from JA and Mrs R. They kept everyone on their toes.
Two incidences stood out. I found out about a harassment incident when mom first went into the hospital. She had only been there less than 2 weeks in January. Apparently the co-executor had driven my bro to her hospital. He went in and started screaming at her to give him money. He tried to find her purse and get what he could. The staff had locked her valuables up thankfully and then called security to have him escorted out and ban him from the hospital.
The second incident happened in early March or late Feb. The co-exec and the girlfriend went to the nursing home and rummaged around for her purse. JA and I had kept all her stuff so mom had no cards or anything with her. They then produced a check from the old account and got her to sign it. At this point one of the nurses got suspicious, caught them in the act and snatched the check. She wrote up a full report with the voided check included. The nerve of that bastard.
Mom died April 29th. She had gone in to the hospital Sunday morning because of horrible stomach cramps. They were just going to do a check up. The nurse called me to tell me about the transfer. Then Mrs. R called me to tell me to get up to the hospital. The doctor called me with specific details. He liver was dead and had been dead for some time. They were treating her for a massive abdominal infection and her kidneys were failing.
It took me about an hour to decide to go. I wasn't sure and I kept stalling. I was putting up wainscot in the bathroom and stayed to glue a few more panels in place. I finally made my decision and drove 6 hours strait without stopping. I got there around 12:30 on the 29th. Mom woke up when I came in and she lit up when she saw me. We got maybe two sentences out before she fell back to sleep. Every exhale was an "Ow".
I started getting pissed and wanted it all to just stop. Just make the pain stop. It shouldn't be this painful. She should pass peacefully. She woke for a few seconds after that and we watched her blood pressure drop. I thought I might go to Mrs R's house and just get a couple hours of sleep and come back soon. I got to the house and was in the middle of brushing my teeth when I got the call to come back. Her vitals were dropping really fast.
I think she may have been waiting for me to see her before she finally let go.
The nurse asked me what she wanted me to do. I told her at that point just give her pain killer and turn off the machines. I made it back to the hospital. My bro actually showed up. I remember watching her chest for movement. I remember hearing the last gasp and seeing a tear slip out of her eye, between the lids. I wondered about that tear. I've heard so many stories about a tear slipping out at the moment of death. That's when I knew. She died at 1:58 but wasn't declared dead until after 2am. It took the doctor a few minutes to get there to declare it officially. We had a priest from the catholic church do final rights for her.
I'm Wiccan but I respect her rights in her religion. On my way out I reached out to brush her bangs off of her forehead and felt the cold clammy skin. The skin looses it's texture and becomes almost like rubber after the soul has left.
I got back to Mrs. R's house around 2:30 and stayed up to talk a bit. I don't remember about what. Then I went to bed but didn't sleep. I couldn't get comfortable. I was hot and sticky and images from the past 12 hours kept coming into my head. I know I cried but I don't really remember crying. I finally just got out of bed around 8am and took a shower. The funeral home called while I was in the shower and I agreed to visit them around noon that day to arrange the service. I stopped by the nursing home to tell what happened and pick up mom's things. I pretty much packed up everything and ended up dropping everything but a blanket and picture books off at a goodwill near my house.
I had to keep stopping to cry. I hid in the closet at one point and just gasped for a while. One of the cleaning ladies came in and hugged me. Apparently people really liked mom. She had been very pleasant and agreeable. She made friends with everyone. The last time we had visited her we had brought my daughter. We had actually brought her three weeks in a row due to various things that needed to be done where my husband had to come with me and we brought her as well. Mom wanted to walk around and introduce my daughter to everyone. She kept stroking her leg and talking about how much she loved her. She got all teary eyed with it. We'd let her run around mom's room and she'd just stare at her granddaughter. She'd let her get into or destroy anything.
It was definitely too early for me to be doing these things but these things needed to be done. I've always been very practical, making lists, planning ahead, investing finances carefully. I'm cautious and calculating.
It pissed me off that others would look at me like I was cold because I was doing what needed to be done and wasn't breaking down and throwing myself around. There were too many things that needed to get done and I was the only one to do them. I was the reliable one. I was the one not an addict or basket case.
I tried to be civil with my bro and get him involved with the funeral. I prompted him to pick out funeral cards, the urn, etc. She was cremated as she told me she wanted to be. I was determined to keep the funeral small and simple with a religious ceremony. A full mass was appropriate for her. I picked out hymns and readings and made calls to volunteer people to read. I wanted one aunt to read a selection but she told another aunt to do it. I cringed. This person had done a reading at dad's funeral and she was silly and out of place with her comments. My aunt apologized. She hadn't realized why I had not asked this person to read and had asked her instead. Thankfully, the aunt who did read kept to the reading and didn't improvise like she had at dad's funeral.
I ran back to the funeral home with clothes for mom. I know it was a cremation and she would have been just fine in her hospital gown but I just couldn't bring myself to not have her dressed in a nice dress even without a viewing. Mom did not want a viewing. She saw it as too morbid. She hated the service dad had had. But he had never told her his wishes and so she went with whatever the Methodist traditions were. Mrs R said she had felt the same way about her daughter when she had to prepare her for her burial. K had died from breast cancer a few years ago.
At the funeral I had to greet people at the door. The whole family stood to my right between the outer and inner doors of the church. I liked to think they were shielding me as much as possible. I met students of my mother from her days teaching short hand and typing. I met some teachers that she had worked with. My 11th grade English teacher springs to mind most notably. She had such a strong spirit and a great wit to lighten the mood. In the classroom she was a drill sergeant. I think I'm a lot like her when I teach; high standards and no bullshit.
And then the con-artist, co-exec showed up with the drug dealing girlfriend on my bro's arm and the other sister on his arm. The funeral director introduced him to me.
"Have you met J---, the daughter?"
"No I haven't had the pleasure." He had this shit-eating grin on his face. Used car salesman comes to mind but I actually like used car salesmen. I've met some good ones so that comparison would be an insult. It was obvious he believed he would be able to charm me the way he had so many other people. I saw that shark coming from the moment he entered the door.
He had been at the hospital too but Mrs. R had been there and pulled him outside. She told him to go home. He was making a spectacle of himself, falling all over my mother, kissing her forehead and playing the part of a grieving lover. She said it was sickening. This had happened before I arrived and she told him to not come back. She had also told him to not come to the funeral. The family doesn't like him, they know what he has done and it would be in poor taste. He obviously came anyway.
He turned to me from the funeral directer and asked," How are you?" and held out his hand to shake mine.
I stared at him and asked, "Who are you?" I thought it was him but I needed to be sure. I kept my hands clasped in front of me over my belly. I had a slight twitch of an instinct to shake his hand but steeled myself away from it. I was raised polite but this person did not deserve niceties.
He gave me his name still holding out his hand
I looked him up and down and said, "Okay." Then I turned away.
I gave the girl he was with a pity smile and continued down the line.
Imagine that. "How are you?" while my mother's urn wasn't more than 20 feet away. How the fuck you think I am, dickwad?
I remember seeing him out of the corner of my eye while greeting others, complaining to my bro about how I had treated him, trying to play up the grieving adopted son routine. Pathetic. His world had started crumbling and he still had no idea how completely it would all dissolve in the next two months. I enjoyed his downfall exquisitely.
Before I went to the funeral I remember thinking repeatedly that I hoped one person in particular would be there. She was my creative writing teacher from 12th grade. For some reason she was on my mind a lot.
Sure enough, after communion, she came by my pew and squeezed my hand. It was like that was what I needed. I just crumbled and started crying. I couldn't get the tears to stop. Even as I could control my muscles and the sobs in my chest, the water kept flowing. The funeral director held my arm and walked me out. My hubbie followed behind me.
This was the most civil it would get.
While mom was at the nursing home the quick thinking lawyer got a new will drafted with me placed as executor and cutting out the old con-artist. My bro and his buddies were not pleased.Things were about to get ugly.
This may come across as a laundry list of bullshit events. At this point I can't think of any other way to record it. Maybe as I process the past I'll make connections and start to feel what happened rather than just dissect it intellectually. It always starts mentally with me. I forget I have a body sometimes I get so wrapped up in my head.
In December my mother said she would call me about my daughter's Christmas present. She didn't call when I expected her to so I left a message. I received a call from a woman I didn't know and a man who sounded very business-like on the phone. I recognized his name from my mother's mention of her will. He was to be my bro's "handler" and manage his inheritance in a trust fund, as well as be co-executor in my mother's will with my husband. He informed me that my mother was in the hospital. It had been two days she had been there and no one had contacted me. Needless to say, I was pissed.
My bro had seen her Weds and she couldn't get out of bed. He probably screamed at her and then rummaged through her purse and the medicine cabinet for drugs and money then took off. The following day was when he came back and called the paramedics. When I got a hold of her at the hospital she was so out of it she couldn't speak. Her lips were dried and her tongue was swollen from dehydration. It was hard to tell what she was saying. He had left her there to die and was probably disappointed when she didn't.
My bro had moved into the house that afternoon according to Mrs. R. I immediately wanted to know if there was a power of attorney and who he/she was. For some reason she wanted to keep it a secret from me. I made a lot of very angry and loud phone calls until finally the POA called me herself. Once I knew it was JA I was relieved. I told her to go to the house and get the jewelry out, mom's purse and anything else valuable. I didn't find out until later that some damage was already done.
JA managed to get the jewelry, she inventoried it, photographed it and deposited into a safe deposit box at the bank. Then she set about getting a handle on the finances. He boyfriend kept mentioning how much my mother had, how big the estate was. I didn't really understand why he was so hung up on this. I came to find out there was a lot that mom had kept secret. Most of the financials led to a lot of anger. She lied about not being able to pay for Mt Holyoke. She lied about everything being okay. She kept secret all the bills she was paying the drugs she was buying for my bro.
My bro got arrested for his second DWI in the middle of January. His first DWI had been in November. He totaled mom's car. I jumped on as POA thanks to a forward thinking estate lawyer. JA was threatening to quit because of the fraud on the account and the mess of the estate finances. It was hard to tell what was really mom's bills and what was fraud. I started visiting the house to get a hold of her paperwork and destroy as much as possible that was not necessary and file into a system the things that were necessary. It took five full days to go through just the paperwork in that house. The kitchen had 7 drawers of it, four filing cabinet drawers, a drawer in the dining room and a drawer in the bedroom.
JA started to find forged checks coming from the bank to the tune of 14K. We had to put a stop on the account and do what we could to freeze it. The associates at the bank were helpful but the procedures and policies of the corporation made it both impossible to stop the theft and impossible to close the account. The checks kept getting cashed for weeks after we alerted the bank to the fraud. One branch wasn't talking to another. And the police were no help. Because mom was still alive we didn't have the power to protect the estate and take the stand in her stead. She would have to press charges. We all knew she would never do anything against my bro, partly out of fear and partly out of guilt. She blamed herself for his mess. Years ago I had a conversation with her about him, when she expressed guilt in an unusually open moment. I told her his addiction was in his blood and she was not to blame for it. That's only partly true as she and dad were horrible enablers.
We found out it was both my bro and his friend, the co-executor forging checks. We also discovered they were using mom's account to pay their cable bill and had stolen her phone and used it for illegal activities. Then paid for it to keep it working with a fraudulent payment over the phone. We found out in March the co-exec had been picked up by the Feds for smuggling illegal aliens across the border from Canada. The illegals were actually from Eastern Europe. The Feds kept the phone. At least it wasn't being used anymore and charging up bills.
When I jumped on as POA not only did I need to get a handle on the fraud, but I needed to prioritize her bills and pay off all debts with whatever we could scrape together. We used the insurance check from the truck to pay off the loan, it was totaled. We sold the car in April to pay off that loan and all finances left went to paying off any other loans or cards and canceling them. By the time I was done, over three months, I managed to get her finances down to utilities and properties upkeep expenses. If it wasn't for my brother's expenses her monthly bills would have gone down to 500 a month. My bro's expenses added $1200 to her monthly overhead. I had decreased her monthly expenses from almost 4000 a months to 1700 a month.
I traveled up to my home town three times a month to clean, organize and meet with JA to calm her down. Her boyfriend kept working her up over things. She was terrified she was going to get shot at or bombed by the Indians from the Rez. The co-executor was from a prominent Rez family. My bro's girlfriend was also his dealer. My bro was safely locked behind bars until the end of April so I didn't have to worry about being attacked or taken by surprise at the house.
I visited mom in the hospital on my way up and on my way back. She was located along the route I drove to get there. I remember a couple of visits. During one visit she talked about getting together with family for dinner. She started naming people who were all dead. I suddenly felt really crowded in the small room. I could feel all these people or spirits pressing in around us. In my mind's eye I could see the shapes of figures crowding around mom. It was then that I knew she was so close to dying. These others had come to help her cross over. They were gathering to prepare her.
I spent more than one visit sobbing in the car afterward trying to eat lunch in between gasps for air and breaking down. It felt like I was an orphan already. Not something I am unfamiliar with. I was adopted and wrestled with abandonment early in life. Not a fun thing.
There were moments while cleaning the house I lay in mom's bed like a little girl and just felt the waves of sadness. I found my old cabbage patch doll and hugged it. I had moments when I had to stop in the middle of pulling laundry out of the dryer and just let it out. I got so angry. She cheated my daughter out of a grandparent. She couldn't quit drinking. Like she cared more for that than any family she had or could have. She was so consumed with keeping up the web of lies, keeping up appearances I couldn't even connect with her when she came to visit us the last time. It had been a month before she filed her will and less than half a year before she went into the hospital.
If I had really wanted to know that something was wrong I don't think it would have been hard to put the pieces together and figure it out. But I had worked so hard to build a new life totally disconnected from the old that I didn't keep in touch with what was going on. I stupidly trusted my bro to get his shit together and take care of business. I thought he'd protect her after dad died. He owed her that after all the shit that they did for him and all the money they spent on him. Instead he let these leaches and con-artists into her life and took her for every penny he could get. Almost 200K in less than 2 years.
I have copies of the bank statements going back to Jan 2010. I did financial forensics to try to trace where the money came from and where it went; what was legit and what was fraud. The lawyer has all the copies now.
It did cross my mind to try to talk her into selling her house and moving into my house. But at the same time I wasn't brave enough to broach the subject. What would we do for hours in the same house? We could barely be comfortable watching an old movie together for less than two hours. We struggled to find things to talk about and silences were awkward and uncomfortable.
She did love my daughter though. I wonder what she was thinking while she stared at her. She seemed almost afraid to touch her. She'd stroke her back and just say she loved her over and over. I think she knew for a while that she was on her way out.
My bro got out of jail mid April and was there when we had to sell the car. We found a good kid and his dad from PA that wanted it. We had to roll it out of the garage because it wouldn't start. I thought it funny that the door had been unlocked when I know I had locked it. I know for a fact that it worked the last time because I started it up just the week before and it purred. The engine wouldn't even turn over and I knew there was something up with the starter. I suggested maybe it needed a tune-up or spark plugs. When my hubby checked under the hood he and the young man discovered circuits had been pulled from the computer panel. My bro had picked the lock, popped the hood and snatched some circuits out to sabotage the car.
He yelled at us while we were rolling the car onto the truck. He laughed and taunted my hubbie and the guys. The gentlemen still wanted it. I had the foresight to call a police officer to keep my bro under control for the first half of the transaction. When the men got in the truck and the police left I had to walk across the lawn to get to my vehicle. My bro heckled me the whole way. He kept trying to catch me in a lie. For some reason he thinks all this was a lie from start to finish. Even when he admitted to the check forgery and the theft from the house, etc. he then tried to turn it around on us and accuse us of lying. Eventually he got a lawyer and considered suing us for whatever we had done wrong with the estate as POA. I think his lawyer talked him out of it. He dropped any idea of going after JA and I. She must have explained to him that he had no legal ground to stand on. The car was in mom's name and the money was used to pay her debts. He tried to argue that we should give him my car because mom bought it for me. But it's in my name, I told anyone that would listen.
I spent the night at mom's house while she was in the hospital exactly once and only because a friend came to the house and stayed with me. She helped me search the basement for my old stuff and heirlooms. I found some old lace, some toys from my room and the old cuckoo clock from great grandma. Every minute I stayed in that house I was on guard for intruders or some of my bro's friends popping in to make trouble. Luckily nothing happened. But the fear was still there and I hated being in that house. Not to mention the past was heavy in the air. My friend mentioned she could feel snippets of my past, my adolescence and childhood in my old room. I couldn't stand being around that and avoided the front of the house. When I did stay there that night I slept in the family room where I couldn't hear or feel the past as much.
The adrenaline and fear was so much more heightened by the constant phone calls from people who seemed to be feeding off of the drama. I did contact a couple of branches of the family for consultation and support. I got the most support from one of my aunt's who had an alcoholic family member and so could relate to the anger and emptiness. The locals were in it for drama or control. Mrs R seemed to see my bro as a second chance to save her son. He had committed suicide in his 20s while under the influence. He had a long drug problem and she couldn't help him. There's some family secret involving the two boys having the same birth mother and they've known since they were little. They were brothers, not just best friends.
At first she seemed to be trying to be tough and fair with him but then the enabling crept in. It started easily enough with an attempt at explaining to me what his perspective was and trying to get me to empathize with his pain and loss. I still can't decide if my brother is really bipolar or just a psychopath who knows how to use emotional manipulation to get other people to do his dirty work and give him what he wants. I'm leaning toward the latter.
With JA's boyfriend I had to balance two opposites. I knew the drama seemed to be what he wanted. It made him feel important to be in the middle of the whirlwind. But on the other hand he was really helpful. He helped with changed the locks, getting people to hire to clean out the basement and carry heavy stuff. So I had to walk that line with him.
Mom entered the nursing home in February and seemed to settle in nicely. It was a very nice place. The nurses were extra attentive which may have something to do with the daily random visits from JA and Mrs R. They kept everyone on their toes.
Two incidences stood out. I found out about a harassment incident when mom first went into the hospital. She had only been there less than 2 weeks in January. Apparently the co-executor had driven my bro to her hospital. He went in and started screaming at her to give him money. He tried to find her purse and get what he could. The staff had locked her valuables up thankfully and then called security to have him escorted out and ban him from the hospital.
The second incident happened in early March or late Feb. The co-exec and the girlfriend went to the nursing home and rummaged around for her purse. JA and I had kept all her stuff so mom had no cards or anything with her. They then produced a check from the old account and got her to sign it. At this point one of the nurses got suspicious, caught them in the act and snatched the check. She wrote up a full report with the voided check included. The nerve of that bastard.
Mom died April 29th. She had gone in to the hospital Sunday morning because of horrible stomach cramps. They were just going to do a check up. The nurse called me to tell me about the transfer. Then Mrs. R called me to tell me to get up to the hospital. The doctor called me with specific details. He liver was dead and had been dead for some time. They were treating her for a massive abdominal infection and her kidneys were failing.
It took me about an hour to decide to go. I wasn't sure and I kept stalling. I was putting up wainscot in the bathroom and stayed to glue a few more panels in place. I finally made my decision and drove 6 hours strait without stopping. I got there around 12:30 on the 29th. Mom woke up when I came in and she lit up when she saw me. We got maybe two sentences out before she fell back to sleep. Every exhale was an "Ow".
I started getting pissed and wanted it all to just stop. Just make the pain stop. It shouldn't be this painful. She should pass peacefully. She woke for a few seconds after that and we watched her blood pressure drop. I thought I might go to Mrs R's house and just get a couple hours of sleep and come back soon. I got to the house and was in the middle of brushing my teeth when I got the call to come back. Her vitals were dropping really fast.
I think she may have been waiting for me to see her before she finally let go.
The nurse asked me what she wanted me to do. I told her at that point just give her pain killer and turn off the machines. I made it back to the hospital. My bro actually showed up. I remember watching her chest for movement. I remember hearing the last gasp and seeing a tear slip out of her eye, between the lids. I wondered about that tear. I've heard so many stories about a tear slipping out at the moment of death. That's when I knew. She died at 1:58 but wasn't declared dead until after 2am. It took the doctor a few minutes to get there to declare it officially. We had a priest from the catholic church do final rights for her.
I'm Wiccan but I respect her rights in her religion. On my way out I reached out to brush her bangs off of her forehead and felt the cold clammy skin. The skin looses it's texture and becomes almost like rubber after the soul has left.
I got back to Mrs. R's house around 2:30 and stayed up to talk a bit. I don't remember about what. Then I went to bed but didn't sleep. I couldn't get comfortable. I was hot and sticky and images from the past 12 hours kept coming into my head. I know I cried but I don't really remember crying. I finally just got out of bed around 8am and took a shower. The funeral home called while I was in the shower and I agreed to visit them around noon that day to arrange the service. I stopped by the nursing home to tell what happened and pick up mom's things. I pretty much packed up everything and ended up dropping everything but a blanket and picture books off at a goodwill near my house.
I had to keep stopping to cry. I hid in the closet at one point and just gasped for a while. One of the cleaning ladies came in and hugged me. Apparently people really liked mom. She had been very pleasant and agreeable. She made friends with everyone. The last time we had visited her we had brought my daughter. We had actually brought her three weeks in a row due to various things that needed to be done where my husband had to come with me and we brought her as well. Mom wanted to walk around and introduce my daughter to everyone. She kept stroking her leg and talking about how much she loved her. She got all teary eyed with it. We'd let her run around mom's room and she'd just stare at her granddaughter. She'd let her get into or destroy anything.
It was definitely too early for me to be doing these things but these things needed to be done. I've always been very practical, making lists, planning ahead, investing finances carefully. I'm cautious and calculating.
It pissed me off that others would look at me like I was cold because I was doing what needed to be done and wasn't breaking down and throwing myself around. There were too many things that needed to get done and I was the only one to do them. I was the reliable one. I was the one not an addict or basket case.
I tried to be civil with my bro and get him involved with the funeral. I prompted him to pick out funeral cards, the urn, etc. She was cremated as she told me she wanted to be. I was determined to keep the funeral small and simple with a religious ceremony. A full mass was appropriate for her. I picked out hymns and readings and made calls to volunteer people to read. I wanted one aunt to read a selection but she told another aunt to do it. I cringed. This person had done a reading at dad's funeral and she was silly and out of place with her comments. My aunt apologized. She hadn't realized why I had not asked this person to read and had asked her instead. Thankfully, the aunt who did read kept to the reading and didn't improvise like she had at dad's funeral.
I ran back to the funeral home with clothes for mom. I know it was a cremation and she would have been just fine in her hospital gown but I just couldn't bring myself to not have her dressed in a nice dress even without a viewing. Mom did not want a viewing. She saw it as too morbid. She hated the service dad had had. But he had never told her his wishes and so she went with whatever the Methodist traditions were. Mrs R said she had felt the same way about her daughter when she had to prepare her for her burial. K had died from breast cancer a few years ago.
At the funeral I had to greet people at the door. The whole family stood to my right between the outer and inner doors of the church. I liked to think they were shielding me as much as possible. I met students of my mother from her days teaching short hand and typing. I met some teachers that she had worked with. My 11th grade English teacher springs to mind most notably. She had such a strong spirit and a great wit to lighten the mood. In the classroom she was a drill sergeant. I think I'm a lot like her when I teach; high standards and no bullshit.
And then the con-artist, co-exec showed up with the drug dealing girlfriend on my bro's arm and the other sister on his arm. The funeral director introduced him to me.
"Have you met J---, the daughter?"
"No I haven't had the pleasure." He had this shit-eating grin on his face. Used car salesman comes to mind but I actually like used car salesmen. I've met some good ones so that comparison would be an insult. It was obvious he believed he would be able to charm me the way he had so many other people. I saw that shark coming from the moment he entered the door.
He had been at the hospital too but Mrs. R had been there and pulled him outside. She told him to go home. He was making a spectacle of himself, falling all over my mother, kissing her forehead and playing the part of a grieving lover. She said it was sickening. This had happened before I arrived and she told him to not come back. She had also told him to not come to the funeral. The family doesn't like him, they know what he has done and it would be in poor taste. He obviously came anyway.
He turned to me from the funeral directer and asked," How are you?" and held out his hand to shake mine.
I stared at him and asked, "Who are you?" I thought it was him but I needed to be sure. I kept my hands clasped in front of me over my belly. I had a slight twitch of an instinct to shake his hand but steeled myself away from it. I was raised polite but this person did not deserve niceties.
He gave me his name still holding out his hand
I looked him up and down and said, "Okay." Then I turned away.
I gave the girl he was with a pity smile and continued down the line.
Imagine that. "How are you?" while my mother's urn wasn't more than 20 feet away. How the fuck you think I am, dickwad?
I remember seeing him out of the corner of my eye while greeting others, complaining to my bro about how I had treated him, trying to play up the grieving adopted son routine. Pathetic. His world had started crumbling and he still had no idea how completely it would all dissolve in the next two months. I enjoyed his downfall exquisitely.
Before I went to the funeral I remember thinking repeatedly that I hoped one person in particular would be there. She was my creative writing teacher from 12th grade. For some reason she was on my mind a lot.
Sure enough, after communion, she came by my pew and squeezed my hand. It was like that was what I needed. I just crumbled and started crying. I couldn't get the tears to stop. Even as I could control my muscles and the sobs in my chest, the water kept flowing. The funeral director held my arm and walked me out. My hubbie followed behind me.
This was the most civil it would get.
While mom was at the nursing home the quick thinking lawyer got a new will drafted with me placed as executor and cutting out the old con-artist. My bro and his buddies were not pleased.Things were about to get ugly.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Proposed Calendar
January
Full:
15 New: 1, 30
Default
15th
Ages
36-33
Brigid
Born
Deaths:
Uncle, Dad, Erika, Mom
Grandma
Moore
|
February
Full:
14
Imbolc
Ages
32-29
Marriage
Cancer
Diag: Dad, Uncle
Deaths:
Rose, Grandma Young
Georgia
|
March
Full:
16 New: 1, 30
Ostara
Ages
28-25
Met
Husband
Economic
Independence
Andrew:
False Dawn
|
April
Full:
15 New: 29
Default
15th
Ages
24-21
Lost
Virginity
First
Apartment
|
May
Full:
14 New: 28
Beltaine
Ages
20-17
Failed
Engagement: Dave
Ally
and College
Wicca
101
|
June
New:
13 New: 27
Litha
Ages
16-13
Puberty
Religious
Exploration
Radical
Feminism
Masculine
Focus of Psyche
|
July
Full:
12 New: 26
Default
15th
Ages
12-9
First
Menses
First
Awareness of Abuse
Band
Obsession
Deaths:
Josie, Grandpa Moore
|
August
Full:
10 New: 25
Lughnassadh
Ages
8-5
Deaths:
Grandma Suss
|
September
Full:
8 New: 24
Mabon
Ages:
4-1
Deaths:
Hildie, Grandpa Suss
Anniv.
Of first circle casting
1994
|
October
Full:
8 New: 23
Samhain
Ages
1-prebirth/adoption
From
birth mother, to foster,
to
adopted parents
|
November
Full:
6 New: 22
Default:
15th
Age:
spirit
|
December
Full:
6 New: 21
Yule
Rebirth
Ceremony
|
January
Death,
Grieving,
Cutting
ties with past
Breaking
Point
Rite
of Funerals
Sending
Ceremony
Rite
of Awakening the Hidden
|
February
Tipping
Point, Control
The
Point of No Return
Staying
Power
The
Lovers
Motherhood
Psychic
Perseverance
|
March
Focus
on Male Aspect/God
Intellect------Air
Soul
Mate-----Lugh Influence
Rite
of Independence
Rite
of Family Coherence
|
April
Recognize
when to leave
Need
for Balance
Sexual
Self-Knowledge
Rite
for sexual healing
Rite
for Overcoming Abuse
|
May
Adventure
and Risk
Re-inventing
self-Knowledge
Discovery
of Spiritual self
Rite
of initiation/dedication
Remembering
the Maiden
Minerva
|
June
Hyper
Selfawareness
Time
of Greatest Emotional damage
Rejection
of Feminine
Recovering
Goddess connection
Dianic
focus—temporary
|
July
Escapism
Creative
Writing
End
of Innocent perspective
Rite
of Menses
Adult
Initiation
Healing
the Inner Child
|
August
Loss
and Grief
Thwarted
Connection/Friendship
Rite
of
|
September
Pre-Memory
Subconscious
Foundation
Parental
Role models
Rite
of
|
October
Adoption/Abandonment
Unmaking
of self
Loss
of Roots
Rite
of
|
November
Underworld/
Subconscious
Persephone
Cleansing
Past
Lives?
|
December
Renewal
Growth,
Goals
Rebirth
Ritual/New Moon
|
Background Part 1
It's really hard to go back into the past and try to recover the truth of what actually happened. Since human memory is constantly shifting, the only thing we can seem to count on is perception. My perception of my childhood was full of hostility and neglect. I really just want to establish an overview.
It was just the four of us; my adopted parents and my adopted brother and I. My mother told me straight away that I was adopted. She said it made me more special because I was chosen. She really wanted a little girl and had to negotiate with Dad to get him to agree to adopt again. The attitude I took from it was he had his son, what did he need me for?
Mom told me that he agreed only if they split their efforts. She would take care of me, and raise me in her religion and her way. He would take my bro and raise him his way. Kinda like a child promising to take care of the puppy if her parent would just let her keep it.
My bro started acting aggressive at a very young age. I know that we might have been okay with each other when I was really young. I've seen cute pictures of us when I was around 4 or 5 where we are hugging and stuff. I have some vague memories of Christmases with the family when Nannie was still alive.
Then I mostly remember him yelling and screaming at Mom. She seemed to be very aggressive in spanking him and me if I got in the way. She really acted like she hated him sometimes. But it may also have been sheer exhaustion. He was so out of control and all Dad would do is tell her to stop, it wasn't going to do any good. He never did a damn thing.
They spent tens of thousands on his hockey and other sports. He got in trouble with the law around age 16. This was around the time I was in junior high. I remember keeping a knife in my room. He would attack me whenever he got into a fight with Mom. He would say I was her favorite and beat me for it. Neither parent ever defended me or even stepped in while it was happening. I pulled the knife on him once, when he tried to suffocate me.
I learned to lock my door after a while but Dad took it off the hinges. I think he resented me by that point. I was succeeding where my bro was failing. My record was clean. I was an honor student while he barely passed his classes. I was an over achiever. And maybe in a way I pushed myself out of a competitive spirit. But it was also to escape.
I understood at a very early age that the way to get a better life was through education and getting the hell out of my home town. The ones who did poorly in school got stuck there. I've seen them on Facebook, stuck there to this day. I got out.
I remember my mother telling me we couldn't afford to send me to Mt Holyoke. I had been accepted and really wanted to go. "Book of Days" was my theme song. Knowing what I know now about their finances, she lied. I now believe it was more a matter of control. I think on some level she knew once I was out of reach I would never come back. I didn't. I did holidays for a while but would get into such horrible fights with Dad that I would cut a four day stay down to two. I'd only stay for two because Mom would beg me to at least spend the night and get a good sleep to drive safe. She needed that control. She didn't want to lose me.
And on some level she was afraid of me too. I was head strong and fearless at 18.
I lacked a relationship with my mother, because of my father driving me out of the house. Mom's alcoholism didn't help much either. It made her more lethargic and dependent upon a man that resented her. At least, that was how he acted. And now looking back I realize those afternoon naps were actually her passing out drunk.
I remember as a teenager trying to defend my mother. I felt it was my job to stick up for women. Even now I get really militant toward men attacking women, especially if they're pregnant or have children. It's instinctive. The Amazon emerged very early watching how she was neglected and bullied in that house.
For some reason this didn't translate into defending myself until much later.
I didn't know she was sick. She was very good at pretending everything was okay. And me being on the other side of the state made it easy. I needed to believe that it all was okay. I had cut myself off and tried to make a life as if that part of my childhood had never happened. I didn't want to have to go up there and kick some ass.
I had done a lot of processing while in college. I did see a therapist, I watched a ton of Oprah and invested in self-help books. I did all the journaling exercises and really thought I had beat those issues to death. I think I really may have. I was able to evolve in my relationships with others until I knew how to keep healthy connections and tastefully sever toxic ones.
I still miss A. That will never go away. We have been soul mates in many lives, loving and killing each other. In this one we just couldn't make it work. We just kept hurting and sabotaging each other. It seemed effortless. But this time around we got to the point where we could say, I love you but I can't be anywhere near you. And we stuck to it.
My mother's entry into the hospital and her following death seemed to reopen these wounds. I'll have to go back through all the garbage I thought I had already sorted and sent to the dump. There are issues that have popped up in particular regarding my brother's special brand of psychological fuckery. I've managed to shake much of it off and started to feel normal again.
I still really feel this is the perfect time to hash through all of it for the last time and lay it finally to rest. Nothing else will pull me back there. This is the final door shutting for the final time.
It was just the four of us; my adopted parents and my adopted brother and I. My mother told me straight away that I was adopted. She said it made me more special because I was chosen. She really wanted a little girl and had to negotiate with Dad to get him to agree to adopt again. The attitude I took from it was he had his son, what did he need me for?
Mom told me that he agreed only if they split their efforts. She would take care of me, and raise me in her religion and her way. He would take my bro and raise him his way. Kinda like a child promising to take care of the puppy if her parent would just let her keep it.
My bro started acting aggressive at a very young age. I know that we might have been okay with each other when I was really young. I've seen cute pictures of us when I was around 4 or 5 where we are hugging and stuff. I have some vague memories of Christmases with the family when Nannie was still alive.
Then I mostly remember him yelling and screaming at Mom. She seemed to be very aggressive in spanking him and me if I got in the way. She really acted like she hated him sometimes. But it may also have been sheer exhaustion. He was so out of control and all Dad would do is tell her to stop, it wasn't going to do any good. He never did a damn thing.
They spent tens of thousands on his hockey and other sports. He got in trouble with the law around age 16. This was around the time I was in junior high. I remember keeping a knife in my room. He would attack me whenever he got into a fight with Mom. He would say I was her favorite and beat me for it. Neither parent ever defended me or even stepped in while it was happening. I pulled the knife on him once, when he tried to suffocate me.
I learned to lock my door after a while but Dad took it off the hinges. I think he resented me by that point. I was succeeding where my bro was failing. My record was clean. I was an honor student while he barely passed his classes. I was an over achiever. And maybe in a way I pushed myself out of a competitive spirit. But it was also to escape.
I understood at a very early age that the way to get a better life was through education and getting the hell out of my home town. The ones who did poorly in school got stuck there. I've seen them on Facebook, stuck there to this day. I got out.
I remember my mother telling me we couldn't afford to send me to Mt Holyoke. I had been accepted and really wanted to go. "Book of Days" was my theme song. Knowing what I know now about their finances, she lied. I now believe it was more a matter of control. I think on some level she knew once I was out of reach I would never come back. I didn't. I did holidays for a while but would get into such horrible fights with Dad that I would cut a four day stay down to two. I'd only stay for two because Mom would beg me to at least spend the night and get a good sleep to drive safe. She needed that control. She didn't want to lose me.
And on some level she was afraid of me too. I was head strong and fearless at 18.
I lacked a relationship with my mother, because of my father driving me out of the house. Mom's alcoholism didn't help much either. It made her more lethargic and dependent upon a man that resented her. At least, that was how he acted. And now looking back I realize those afternoon naps were actually her passing out drunk.
I remember as a teenager trying to defend my mother. I felt it was my job to stick up for women. Even now I get really militant toward men attacking women, especially if they're pregnant or have children. It's instinctive. The Amazon emerged very early watching how she was neglected and bullied in that house.
For some reason this didn't translate into defending myself until much later.
I didn't know she was sick. She was very good at pretending everything was okay. And me being on the other side of the state made it easy. I needed to believe that it all was okay. I had cut myself off and tried to make a life as if that part of my childhood had never happened. I didn't want to have to go up there and kick some ass.
I had done a lot of processing while in college. I did see a therapist, I watched a ton of Oprah and invested in self-help books. I did all the journaling exercises and really thought I had beat those issues to death. I think I really may have. I was able to evolve in my relationships with others until I knew how to keep healthy connections and tastefully sever toxic ones.
I still miss A. That will never go away. We have been soul mates in many lives, loving and killing each other. In this one we just couldn't make it work. We just kept hurting and sabotaging each other. It seemed effortless. But this time around we got to the point where we could say, I love you but I can't be anywhere near you. And we stuck to it.
My mother's entry into the hospital and her following death seemed to reopen these wounds. I'll have to go back through all the garbage I thought I had already sorted and sent to the dump. There are issues that have popped up in particular regarding my brother's special brand of psychological fuckery. I've managed to shake much of it off and started to feel normal again.
I still really feel this is the perfect time to hash through all of it for the last time and lay it finally to rest. Nothing else will pull me back there. This is the final door shutting for the final time.
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