My husband and I were laid off within 3 weeks of each other, both a direct result of the economy. Having an $80k pay drop in a month is a tad…devastating. We are losing our house. Foreclosure proceedings have not yet begun and we have drastically reduced the price of our house, it is now priced less than we bought it, 9 years ago.
We are more fortunate than most, we have another home that was left to my husband. It is paid for, however, it is in another state, in an area without much economic potential.
We are planning the move. Our Realtor has assured us she can sell the house faster without us in it. I don’t doubt it. Trying to keep a house show-ready with two dogs a cat and a potty training toddler, while trying to box up everything is taxing at best.
On to the Charlie Brown part.
When it appeared as if foreclosure would happen any time, my first concern was securing as much of our belongings as possible. My brother offered to take up a load of stuff with his Suburban and an 18’ trailer. The cost would be about $200, but could take the most critical stuff and as we got money, more trips could be made for about the same amount.
The transmission fell out of my brothers truck. Let’s come up with another plan. Over a period of time, it got convoluted into me renting a truck big enough to pull the trailer, having to drive it up and back, paying for an additional driver, going two hours across the state to spend a few days securing long-term care for my estranged, child-molesting father, 5 people making the trip, two vehicles, 5 days and did I mention illegally towing a trailer with a rental car?
During this time, my Grandmother offered to give me my inheritance early. Basically $1100. As I tallied up the gas for this abomination, I realized that it cost more than I had. I asked if my sister, who was the one that wanted to go take care of our molesting father and therefore, incurring 3 more days of the trip, would be contributing because the cost was more than I had.
That conversation cut me off from my family. According to them, I am too selfish to help out my sister when she is helping me move. The fact that me helping her costs more than half of my total moving funds is immaterial. The fact that neither my husband or myself have jobs and are relying on unemployment and we need every dime we have is immaterial. I should willingly and with unknown funds, contribute to the well-being of a man that did his best to destroy every child he was ever exposed to, of course, the fact that my sister feels some sort of obligation to him is natural and no one should tell her that she doesn’t have to do any of this and that in doing so, will cause her emotional harm.
I rented a storage unit and have been moving my stuff into that. I am counting on my Grandmothers money to rent a single 26’ truck that I will only have to drive ONE way. I thanked my brother for his offer and his time, but told him no thank you, I needed to make other plans.
My mother took it upon herself to call my Grandmother and inform her that I don’t need the money, because we are not moving, I got this in an email at 8:30am yesterday. At 9:30am, my mother said that Gramma had a change of heart, that I will get the money and my mother is washing her hands of me and the hate.
I called my Gramma and explained to her why there was a change. I let her know our new address, our expected moving date and basically, why we have decided to do what we’ve done. When I first spoke to her, she was hostile towards me, obviously tainted by my mothers actions. After I explained everything to her, she felt I made the right decision and is fully supportive.
In my life, any time an issue comes up that involves my brother, my mother and myself, invariably, I’m Charlie Brown having the football pulled out from in front of me. I can be ok as long as I do whatever they say and if I veer from their plan, I suck. It doesn’t matter how desolate my life is, and right now, it is worse than it has ever been, it doesn’t mean they can’t take the opportunity to kick me. I’ve lived my adult life pretty entirely without their help. Along the way, I have been exceedingly generous to my family. I’ve never asked for anything in return except to be treated somewhat fairly.
My friends think I have made the smarter decision. Cost estimates break down this way: Moving their way: $970 roughly to move one trailer full of stuff. My way: $1150 to move a 26’ moving van full of stuff. It wasn’t until I worked out all the numbers that I realized that I almost a very financially devastating mistake.
I’m moving quite far away from my family, and I have to say, their antics this week make me pretty glad. I hope I am moving to a better place for my family and my spirit.
I hope that this has taught me finally that if I have a relationship with my family, I need to protect myself better or stay away. It would be nice if I set boundaries better, but it is always them against me. Always. I’ve been the black sheep since birth and have always come in last. From my mother saying my birth was the most awful experience of her life and lamenting what a problem baby I was, to me having to forge her signature in order to get my OWN financial aid.
I always dreamed of having a daughter, and treating her well, letting her know she is loved and wanted and appreciated. I never want her to think for a moment that she isn’t exactly the child I always dreamed of. I want to hold the ball for her and know that I will never take it away.
It breaks my heart to know how much sadness my family has brought me over the years. How much I love them anyway and knowing that I have never been, and never will be, good enough. Not just good enough as a child, but as an adult, as a wife, as a mother, as a sister and as a person.
Those of you out there struggling with your demons and the economy, my heart is with you. I’m currently watching the inauguration. I voted for Obama because I want our world to be better. Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope keeps me going back to my family when I know I shouldn’t. Hope is what is prompting this move to a dramatically different world. Hope is what I see when I look at my independent, strong, willful, smart, beautiful, beguiling child, who looks way, way too much like I used to. I look at my daughter and seeing me in her makes me like me better. I can’t fathom seeing what my mother sees when she sees me. To my friends, I am emotional, happy, generous, kind, moral and loyal to a fault. To my family, I am selfish, lazy, inconsiderate and hateful and a bitch to boot. If you took a poll, I don’t take criticism well. I wonder why. I’ve been criticized my entire life.
I’ve made posts here in the past that have encapsulated the events of my life. If I ever look back on this post, I want to remind myself how, when I was at my lowest, in danger of losing everything, my mind included, that was when my family cut me off. Remind me that when my brother was a criminal and sent to prison, every effort was made, including weekly trips across the state to visit, to make sure he came out of it ok. That when I am losing my home, my car, have lost my job, my security and my hope, that was when they decided to yank the ball. Get away Lisa, get away and start living your life the way you’ve always wanted. Make the things that are important to you, important in your life. Use this as an opportunity to purge your life of the things that weigh you down and look at it as a way to lift up the quality and quantity of your life, family, home and soul. Stop being their Charlie Brown. Be who you are. But better.