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When I went to Georgia because my mother was dying, I never expected to be thrown out of my family’s house two days before the funeral. It robbed me of the experience that was my right – but that doesn’t bother anybody in my family, especially my Daddy and sister. They don’t want me there “stirring up shit” as they said. Unfortunately, I told a lie to several people I know here in New York about why that was.

The truth is, my family said I was trying to take control of the situation and they had no use for that. And, beyond that – I threw away my oldest daughter’s stash of weed, pot seeds, empty liquor bottles and rig for making and mainlining crystal meth or crack cocaine, although it was probably crystal meth. I threw away sudafed type package drugs from the pharmacy that they had in the same drawer with their (my daughter and her wanted in Florida felon boyfriend) – glass syringe, spoon with blackened bottom and white encrusted powdery bowl on it, a metal stirrer looking thing that was caked with gummy charred something on one end and a butterfly looking handle on the other, their bowl of pot seeds they were apparently saving, a bottle of my mother’s narcotic pain pills they had on the shelf in their room and a gallon sized ziplock bag of assorted prescription drugs which I didn’t even check for the names on them because my daughter doesn’t and never has had that many prescriptions of anything to her name, neither has her boyfriend legally.

But, while everyone was gone – even though for two days I had warned them to remove anything and everything that they didn’t want me to see or to know about because I was going to come into that room where my belongings were stored and get them – I found their rig and their goodies and their illegal drugs and fifths of liquor emptied and piled in the room – and I threw them out. Then, I took all of their bedding and aired out the mattresses in the sunshine, febrezed them, sprayed them with Off bug repellant to get the fleas out of them from their puppy and put all of the other blankets and sheets in the laundry room for them to wash.

So, everybody hit the ceiling and came after me as starting shit and said that I was too mentally incompetent to understand and that Mama being dead had upset me and stirred up my mental illness to the point that I didn’t know to leave “their room” and “their stuff” alone. Well, I damn well did know – and I did give them every opportunity to get their stuff out of my way, but they chose not to do that. The chest of drawers they are using is mine. The room their stuff and they are in – was given to me by my Mama and Daddy with the promise that no one would be in there and that ALL – every last piece of my belongings stored there would be safe and out of harm’s way and that nothing would happen to any of it until I could get it up to New York with me. They had me put the most important and most valuable of my things there that couldn’t go on the plane with me to New York. They never said, come get your stuff out of this room because we are going to let your daughter and her boyfriend stay in there, smoke dope, cook and mainline crack or crystal meth and get sloppy violent, aggressively drunk every single night they’re here. They didn’t say that to me or to my other daughters helping me in New York to learn the space here. Oh no they didn’t. But they did have my oldest daughter stay in that room they had given me to store my things next to Mama’s ceramics and ceramic molds – which are also now trashed and nobody can use them.

And, they told her to throw away my things and the things I was bringing to New York that belonged to one of my grandchildren – everything she owned and has talked about having – as they promised her and me on the phone that she would get those things. But worst of all, they threw away and consummately destroyed a “brain in a box” mnemonic tool that was in a sectioned fishing box which had taken me years to make – and they knew that was what it was and dumped it. They didn’t even tell me they had done it. And, every Barbie hand-made piece of clothing I had made for my daughters with their entire collection of special Barbie things that they had intended to share with their own daughters and have looked forward to doing that for years. It is cruel, vicious and sadistic that they did these things to me and to my belongings, moving my most valuable books and things to the nasty hot attic and destroying others, giving away things of mine that did not belong to them and after having promised to care for them and keep them safe. They didn’t do that at all – but unless I sue them – what can I do?

And, then to rob me of the services and burial of my Mama. And to cost me going there and then back on the bus – at no expense to them – saying that if I ask for any money it is because I’m poor and trying to take advantage of them. The sister from hell of mine even accused me along with my oldest daughter of pillaging the house going through drawers to steal from them when I’m the one who up until a year and a half ago when I moved to New York was the only person allowed to go into drawers and boxes to find a highlighter pen or some piece of paper somebody was looking for. And, those were the reasons I was looking in those places this time as well. Why would I steal from my own house? It is stupid.

However, I do know that my sister is stealing from that house – besides her stealing my once in a lifetime opportunity to attend my mother’s funeral services and stole the Sunday afternoon music and fellowship in the living room that I had invited one neighbor and one of Mom’s church friends to come do to help Daddy feel better. She stole that and she is raiding for books to tear apart because my sister does eBay and has a buyer who will buy a hundred pieces of vintage book illustrations and book plates for $2 or $3 to use for her own artworks and scrapbooking. My sister sold her $200 worth one time at $2 each, so she thinks that is what to do with my mother’s entire extraordinary collection of cookbooks, art books, Aladdin book from the 1930’s and others like it, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseum. I am so disgusted with her and with all of them including my Daddy who damn sure knows better that I could spit nails.

So, aside from the fact that Daddy and my sister told everyone at the funeral and at the cemetery service that I had gone back to New York as if it was a choice I made with no other facts involved, they have blocked any and all calls from me to my Daddy or to my sister – won’t answer when I call, used the call block to prevent any calls from getting through and told every other one of my grown children that I am the one causing the problem and trying to take advantage of Daddy at this difficult time. They have got to be kidding – have they always been that cruel and I didn’t notice? I have a head injury and post traumatic stress disorder from domestic violence – I’m not stupid. And, I’ve worked hard to live an adequate and quality life despite those hindrances. What gives them the right to do everything they can to make my life more difficult? It is my mother that died. I am not a stranger to that house. I’ve lived nearby and come at the drop of a hat to fix anything and just about everything they’ve asked me to for over 36 years. It is ridiculous to act like I’m a nosy busybody trying to steal from them – why would I – I haven’t for 36 years many, many times a month they’ve had me come over and wash their dishes, clean out their fridge, do plumbing, vacuum, clean, organize, help with the gutters, help with the yardwork, help with the shopping and errands, help with whatthefuckever, wash clothes, mop the floor, clean the bathrooms, help go to WalMart and the grocery, make something yummy to eat, etc – also ad nauseum. Its damned ridiculous.

And, beyond all that – my oldest daughter is violent, aggressive, drunk every night and probably doing that crystal meth using the rig I found – despite her saying that she got into poison ivy and that’s why her legs, arms and face were all clawed up with welts and big red itchy sores where she was scratching them – looked just like those people in their mug shots after 3 months of doing meth or crack. That was how she looked when I first got there and she said that she drank an entire fifth of whiskey by herself that day because she wanted to “get me back” but didn’t know for what exactly. That is some twisted thinking. But I’m the one they want to have put in a mental hospital and threw out of the house for destroying the illegal drugs which would have put all of us in jail, cost us ever seeing our grandbabies again and no telling what all else.

So, I lied to my neighbors and new friends in New York. I didn’t want to tell them what a mess it is and that my oldest daughter is humping a wanted felon sitting in my family’s garage room as they engage in cooking and snorting and mainlining meth (and hopefully not heroin or crack, but who knows) and staying drunk every night. The friends and neighbors I have would have probably understood – it is way too common in families over the past twenty years at least. But still, I didn’t want to tell them, I didn’t want to know it and I didn’t want to think about the cruel and sadistic way my family handled a disabled person they claim to care about which is me. I’m really horrified at that. Truly horrified. I would have never guessed that about them but looking back – they were apparently that way all along and I couldn’t see it clearly. For that, I am truly ashamed and humiliated to be part of such a family. I wish they weren’t that way. I am finding it hard to love them right now – and I am going to make amends to my new neighbors and friends for lying to them and set the record straight. Maybe I’ll learn it is okay to tell the truth and to be honest about the reality I live. Maybe.

– cricketdiane

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Oh yeah – and besides my entire set of Encyclopedia Britannica with my handwritten notes in the margins having been totally polluted by these clowns with their drugs being smoked inside the house and in that room where they were stored – my artwork is completely mucked up as well. The artworks I stored there are piled over with crap and have been permanently polluted with crystal meth cooking operations going on next to them. So are Mom’s extensive collection of greenware porcelain dolls and doll parts she made and the molds used to make them – some of them are ridiculously expensive because they are for designer dolls where the molds are specific to a known famous doll designer. What kind of idiots would muck up that much stuff and what kind of idiots would let them? Is that some shit or what? Yeah – but I’m the crazy one. Yeah right.

I’m not that crazy.

**

Oh – and just to be clear about it, my oldest daughter is actually out on bail with conditions which she is obviously ignoring along with my Dad who probably paid it – for a case where she spun around after some co-worker splashed her with the hot water spray when he was doing the dishes at a restaurant where they worked – and she took his nose off with a stainless steel salad bar bin when she hit him with it. That case is up in Pickens County – so they probably don’t care if she meets any of the conditions of her bail bond or not as long as they don’t have to deal with Cobb County where she is sitting now and come get her. That’s how they do it up there in the woods where everybody knows everybody, although those restaurant owners she and her boyfriend were working for – she said, they were recently busted for selling and then for having a meth lab in the basement of the restaurant. I don’t know – it might only be her bragging about not getting caught for selling it and they did. I’m really not sure. But if anybody here is not the bad guy – it would be me despite having wasted their “good stuff” on the throwing it out scheme – and if anybody needs some serious rehab and help with living skills – it is those two. One of these days, I’m going to find out what that boy is wanted for in Florida and what kind of felony it is – then he’s going on vacation to Florida. I’ve done had enough of this shit. (Just had to write this post – can’t stand keeping it to myself anymore. They don’t matter anymore – there is not one redeeming quality to either of them and I’m beginning to realize that may be the case for some of the rest of my family members as well. Just let it go and walk on. I didn’t get to get any of my stuff that I had stored at my parent’s house anyway – I can’t take pot and meth infiltrated stuff back on a bus or plane that may be randomly searched by a police officer and dog. That would be stupid. And I don’t even know how to fix that either – I brought back three volumes of my encyclopedia, have doused them with baking soda in a bag but I don’t really have my hopes up about it.)

**

By the way – this is the real pisser – one of my daughters in New York and I spent over $800 to get me to Georgia on a plane and taxis to the airport and back again on the bus plus the little bit I spent while I was there – none of them helped us do it and my daughter who did that is homeless and I’m on SSI with less than $7,000 a year to work with. I don’t even want to talk about how many of my bills didn’t get paid in order to do this and then to be treated this way after doing everything they asked, finding everything they needed when they asked me to get it or find it or whatever – and helped in every other way I could. I’m never going back there. They don’t have one dime’s worth of love in any of them.

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