Between a Rock and a Hard Place

**The following was published to the ‘private blog’ but I’ve decided it’s too important for that small space and to publish it here as well.**

 

 

If you read the Public Blog you already know I’m losing my job at the end of the year. It’s been upsetting me terribly until yesterday.

Yesterday, Miss Rebecca needed my car…again….to ‘go to work’ and….Glory Be!…to start moving out. I was reluctant to give her the car for the third day in a row considering she always comes home very late for someone who’s a chambermaid and she busted the vehicle a few weeks ago and lied to Hell and Back about it. Grand Total to fix it was $305.00 + the cost of the tow which she said she’d pay (the tow cost) and never did. She hasn’t chucked a single dime toward the repairs either and I don’t believe she sees a need to do so.

SIDE STORY: Especially for those of who know where I live. If you were coming from Mystic to New London and decided to take the Hodges Square exit so you could ‘get gas’ and she ‘hit a bump’ on Connecticut Avenue….would Connecticut Avenue be right on your way to the vicinity of Lawrence & Memorial Hospital? I tried repeatedly to tell her that Hodges Square was no where near Connecticut Avenue and kept insisting it was. Hubby didn’t back me up until he was driving me into work a few days later and had to take a detour. At that point I said; “Oh look! Here’s the intersection of Connecticut and Garfield Avenues. Are we close to Hodges Square?” He mumbled that we were not. I pressed onward; “Did we go over any hard bumps?” We had not and he had to admit to such. Do you know who occasionally lives on Connecticut Avenue when his mama allows it? Yep, the no good ‘boyfriend’. Guess where she was when she popped a curb and busted my car. Oh and further…guess what? She didn’t put a single drop of gas in my tank. When I finally got my car back I drove it directly home. The next morning I went to go to work, looked at the gas gauge and immediately had to pray that I would make it to the nearest gas station.
END SIDE STORY.

I let her take the car yesterday so she could go to work and start moving her shit out of my house and just so the boyfriend didn’t sneak into the house and to keep an eye out making sure they only took things that belong to HER and not US because, let’s face it, she steals everything that’s not nailed down! I took the day off work so I could quietly ‘supervise’. She came home at an appropriate time for a chambermaid just getting out of work–right around 2 o’clock or so. She started bitching and complaining about her job and her boyfriend and how he didn’t want to ‘move in’ yesterday (even though, according to her, on Sunday night, he was in favor of doing so on Monday). She asked if she could take the car again to go over and ‘clean the apartment’ to get it ‘ready to move in’. Reluctantly I said ‘yes’ and let her go. Nearly five hours later she came back. Either that’s one filthy apartment or she’s lying through her pearly whites. Guess which one it turned out to be.

We’ll get back to that in a bit because I want to discuss ‘the kicker’ now. I had the day off yesterday. I had the whole house to myself on a gray chilly day. I wandered around in my soft sweats all day. I drank coffee. I watched TV. I WROTE! Yes I did! By the time she returned home I was actually feeling better about losing my job. I was starting to think that it was a good thing. I could really use 4-6 months of that kind of down time and with my coming severance check and Unemployment checks I thought we could make the bills especially if Miss Rebecca wasn’t constantly going through my pockets stealing any dollar amount she could find. I mean that literally, if I have a single dollar bill in my pocket she’ll steal it. She constantly goes through my drawers looking for money and taking it. She even stole the money I got for my birthday! She couldn’t be bothered to buy me a present with it. I bet she bought herself booze or coke. I stopped confronting her about it because he just lies to my face and twists everything around so that I believe that I never had any money to begin with. She gets away with that because she’s my daughter and I love her and I want to only believe the best about her. That’s my downfall. That’s my fault. It kills me.

Anyway, yesterday,I honestly felt myself unwinding a bit and looking forward to my uncertain future in which, at least, writing would be a constant. I so NEED to get back to that. It’s killing me not being able to have the time and space to write anymore. My soul is empty because of it. I have nothing left to give other than fake smiles and false concern.

She didn’t return home until around seven o’clock and hubby and I had already agreed that since she took my car 3 days in a row and didn’t move out a single blessed thing that she would unable to have access to my car today until I returned home from work. It’s nice to be on the same page with hubby, his eyes have been shoved open in the last few months where Miss Rebecca is concerned as she started stealing HIS stuff and pawning it just as she does with mine. Broke my heart the other night, I was looking through my jewelry boxes and she actually stole my mother’s Barry Goldwater pin! And her ‘Archie Bunker for President’ pin! I loved those two items but now they’re gone forever all because she feels completely entitled to (in her words) ‘borrow’ things that don’t belong to her and hock them. I wanted to cry when I found the Goldwater pin missing. I wear it often for good luck but so what? She also stole an 1885 silver dollar from my wallet years ago. She probably used it to buy a blunt wrapper thinking it wasn’t worth anything more than $1.00 but it WAS worth much more than that both monetarily and sentimentally. I carried that coin for over a decade tucked away in my wallet as a Good Luck Charm.

Today, I get up, I have coffee with hubby, we watch the news, we discuss how we’re looking forward to having OUR house back again without any lingering fear of being robbed as we agreed to change the locks the second she moved out. We kissed good-bye for the day, we left and went our separate ways.

No less than an hour after I got into work I received the following text message: Plans changed.No apartment. U stuck with me til I get paid then I’m on a train to Nikki’s.

First off, Miss Nicole lives in Michigan with her husband in a very tiny apartment. Second off they are both currently unemployed and he is fighting the State of Michigan for Unemployment Compensation. Red States…they suck. They don’t want to pay him even though he worked ‘on the books’ for over a year. Miss Nicole pitched a fit earlier this year with regard to her Uncle possibly coming to visit her this past summer because there was ‘no room’ for them. I mean, they don’t even have an extra chair in their tiny apartment! AND she just pawned her wedding rings so they could stay afloat. She did ask me for money but I don’t have it to give until tomorrow when I will PayPal her some cash.

I sent a text back: Her and Nate are unemployed they can’t afford to take you in and have no room for you. Take the money you were going to spend on the apartment and look on Craigslist for apartments to share.

I get a text back: I already talked to her.

Yeah…bullshit!

So I called Miss Nicole and asked her about this new development. She was very surprised! In fact, the first thing she said to me was; <em>Train? </em>What train? The only train goes through Detroit and I’m too far away to pick her up!

LOL

Other than that, I mean, face it, the two of them don’t get along at all even though Miss Nicole has repeatedly tried to reach out to her sister. I can’t imagine the two of them living together never mind in such cramped quarters.

Well, my phone call to Miss Nicole put a quick end to Miss Rebecca’s plans to ‘jump on a train’ and show up on her sister’s doorstep completely unannounced.

Miss Nicole has a good heart and I’m sure she would have taken her sister in if she didn’t already know what an outrageous thief she is! But forewarned is forearmed and I felt I owed it to Miss Nicole to give her the heads-up on this one. So Miss Nicole put an end to Miss Rebecca’s plan.

Bummer.

I refuse to be stuck with her any longer.

It’s not that I’m cold. It’s not that I’m cruel. It’s not that I want my daughter on the streets in the dead of the coming winter. It kills me to have to do this, it really does. It hurts me so badly but I know that I can’t let it continue. I can’t let her keep freeloading. I can’t let her keep stealing everything she can get her hands on then lying straight to my face when she gets called out on it. I hate to say the following because I know I sound like a whiny little bitch but; It’s not FAIR!

She’s 26. Her life is passing her by. I didn’t give birth to her so she be a mooch forever. Please, keep in mind, we are talking about the girl who had a shit-fit every time she got her period at school. She would call me CRYING saying; Mom, there’s soooo much blood! You NEED to bring me fresh underwear and jeans NOW!

Every single time, I would drop whatever I was doing and bring those things to school. I would take her ‘bloody’ clothes from her, bring them home, only to find there was a dime sized drop of blood in her panties that hadn’t even soaked through to her jeans before she reached the Nurse’s Office for a pad. This is the same girl who CRIED she was being bullied at school! She didn’t want to go anymore! She let the ‘bully’ allow her to miss her Senior Prom! I went to bat for her with New London High School again and again. In the end, I found out that she was merely the subject of some rude stares and bullshit talk. She allowed a now welfare mother to stand in her way of progressing and of taking charge of her own life. Just as she’s allowing a low-life male who’s only interested in fucking and now doesn’t want to live with her to dictate the course of her life. He likes being nearly homeless. He likes being a nomad. He likes taking advantage of kind hearted people. He doesn’t think for one single second he should be responsible for himself because somewhere somehow the rest of us ‘owe him’.

You know…because he’s black.

That’s not ‘racist’. That’s the absolute truth where this jerkwad is concerned. Look, he’s been thrown out of my house on at least 3 occasions for breaking the No Overnight Guests Rule. When he does come by he never announces himself. He never comes to the front door and says something like; Hi, is Becca here? No, not at all. Why? Because he has no respect for anyone other than himself. He has no steady job even though…joke of jokes!..he currently works for RoGovin Moving Company and he either couldn’t or wouldn’t try get his boss to lend him a moving van for two hours! What kind of ‘worker’ do you think he is? What kind of ‘man’ do you think he is? One suitable for YOUR daughter? No he’s a lowlife scumb bag with a pitbull who mooches off everyone he can find. I’ll be gross and racist here for a single second, in my opinion, he loves seeing his black dick slide into a white woman. He doesn’t consider my daughter worth anything more than a stiff fuck.

It’s way past time Rebecca started holding herself in higher esteem. For her to realize she is worth WAY MORE than THAT. She’s a sweet girl with a kind heart who falls any sob story that comes her way. She needs to stop doing that.

If this is the harsh lesson it takes to get her to realize her own self-worth then so be it.

She left a perfectly wonderful guy for this POS.

That’s on her and no one else.

As for me?

Well, what kind of mother wants to see her daughter on the streets?

That’s what’s currently killing me.

I know through my counseling that Miss Rebecca’s decisions are HER decisions and I have no say over them. I KNOW that if I keep letting her live with us then I’m doing nothing more than enabling her and setting myself up to be ripped off to be lied to to be treated as though I’m nothing more than dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. Part of me cried out; She’s YOUR DAUGHTER! You shouldn’t CARE how she treats you! It’s better than having her be HOMELESS!

The other part cries out; When are YOU going to STAND UP for YOURSELF?

It’s a tough place to be in.

But, in the end, having lived at least 9 months rent free with nothing more than an $40.00/month cellphone bill to pay and having nothing more show to for all the leeway she’s been given and all the times she stole and lied and treated me like I was just a crazy bitch who belonged in a mental hospital…I guess she’s worn out her welcome.

She’s on her own. She has to face the consequences of her own making. If she doesn’t then she’ll never grow up. She’ll never be responsible for herself and she’ll just go right on believing that everything that isn’t nailed down is free game for her.

So….do I walk away feeling like a horrible mother and throw her out or do I continue feeling less than human by letting her stay, walk all over me, take advantage of me, steal from me, lie to me, all knowing she won’t change?

Kids.

Can’t live with ’em forever not even under the best of circumstances.

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