My peanut butter jar is just about empty. Peanut butter is one of those staples that will get you through any disaster I found. After being made homeless here numerous times, I have even lived on it for weeks at a time when I was unable to go to the store or walk. After my car was taken it was hard to get groceries. In many places here there are no cabs or if there happens to be one it can be unaffordable. I have barely enough money for groceries and my phone now. Spending $50 on a cab was extremely difficult, but oftentimes I was forced to. The small alimony I'm getting was made to seem like a big gesture from my ex-husband, but like most things, these decisions were made when I wasn't in court and were made to seem like he was the victim so nothing was done in my best interest. It's enough to barely cover food and my phone and with today's prices and not being able to cook or keep a pantry or shop on sale it becomes difficult. Besides the constant worry each month the money is in my account. I would rather have had a "lump sum," especially the money he is using about 40 grand over a 5yr period was the money from an inheritance I was supposed to get from his cousin who passed away. She seemed to be one of the few people to have an epiphany on her death bed and wanted me to have half of the money she was leaving us. My name was clearly on the documents, but like everything else I never got. This is part of the post-divorce coercive control. Doling out money like he always did, barely enough, even though we had money and increasingly did well financially. Even though I always made good money, he made sure that my money was spent while he was stashed away for the day he would divorce me and leave me destitute, which I came to see had been the plan all along.
I had missed just a couple of court dates after being made homeless and this is when all these extremely important financial decisions were made. When I questioned the settlement I never agreed to or signed, I was told I was lucky to get anything. Being homeless was no excuse and I should be glad I got anything because the Judge was going to put me in "default." I had not even been asked about anything concerning my future or what was in my best interest. All these questions were decided by people I had spoken to a only a few times up to that point.
One was an Ad litem who routinely told me to "go to a homeless shelter" that my personal belongings in storage would be auctioned off—I heard this repeatedly. I remembered at the end of the marriage my ex-husband would watch these shows about people's storage units being seized. I thought they were awful shows. People exploiting other people's misery and heartache and putting their lives in even more danger. I knew what it was like not to have the things you needed. I grew up going without things all the time—poverty is difficult. This voyeuristic type of behavior combined with the violation of a person made me sick—reminded me of growing up. Poverty is always a reason others use to humiliate because of course it's always your fault even when you're a child. I had thought by that point after all the hard work I was going to be ok, but I was to learn everything in my life would be stolen.
Even writing it now makes my head hurt, feelings engulf me and waves of nausea start if I'm not careful. The futile attempts I made to talk to her and tell her my story and the dismissive way she treated me. The verbal and emotional abuse was so bad. She would basically wave her hand at me whenever I attempted to ask about my home or how this was even legal or that I had over 20-years of things in storage. So much original artwork and photography for my business, it overwhelmed me to think about it being all gone—I would have nothing. So much that I would never be able to replace. She would dismiss my concerns and either just not speak, giving me the "silent treatment" or imply in that way that was becoming what everyone did that was involved in this was that I just "didn't understand" that there was just "something wrong with you." She already acted as if she knew all about me. It became increasingly clear it had all been mapped out how it would all go long before I talked to any of these people.
If I asked questiones she would act as if I wasn't understanding and then just basically stop talking. If she did say things it was to give me directives about what was going on and if I didn't take the directive or questioned it she would end the discussion, just stop talking implying that I was in fact "incompetent." It took me a while to understand this was the motive all along. In fact the motive when we first married—to make me appear that way. She knew exactly how to do this, but at the time I had no idea how this worked. I had no idea about Gaslighting or that so-called "professionals" would imploy it also. I had no idea what an Ad Litem did or why I had to have one. I was to see that in fact she basically did know all about the me that was being made up. The person my ex-husband had made up a long time ago. The made-up person who was mentally ill did nothing and was incompetent. After 20-years of Gaslighting, he had it all worked out about what he made up about me and had everyone I knew doing the same.
"She's agitated!" The judge sternly told the court when after one of my pleas about being homeless was ignored. I asked if I could be excused to use the restroom. By this time, I was often made to wait on this Judge, Ad Litem, and my ex-husband's Attorney who would often be late. A few times close to 2 hr. Waiting an hour for all of them in the lobby was a regular occurrence, laughing and joking as if they were all old friends. I went to the restroom and vomited. Being homeless was unconscionable, but that was to be a regular occurrence of how I was being treated. Less than human—an object. I didn't think it would be a problem to excuse myself to use the restroom, but it was written up as I "walked out" and was "agitated." This was used as the excuse as to why I needed an Ad Litem when I questioned yet again why it was I was being told I was an "incompetent adult."
By this time there had been a few of them. As soon as I walked into Family court one was there. I was under the impression Family court was only when you had children, but when I went to the local Domestic Violence agency they told me they could do nothing for me and to go to Family court. They all acted the same, insinuating things that weren't true, picking fights in the lobby to get the guards to tell me to "quiet down" whenever I seem to be "upset about things," which was just basically being stunned about the way I was being treated. Guards hoovered right from the beginning implying I was one of those people that "had to be watched." If I spoke too much or raised my voice they pretended to appear like they would grab me. At first, the intimidation was jarring and frightening, but I came to see it was being done on purpose—it just seemed so "crazy," which was the point! Being a competent professional for my entire career, having successful businesses and a number of other assets and being talked to like I was a "delinquent child" was just too much. I wouldn't even talk to a child in the way I was being talked to. Even children require consideration and the respect of being human beings and able to speak about their feelings and what they think.
In the beginning, I tried to keep up by sending emails to counter the horrible lies that this woman was spewing, but she basically ignored them. I couldn't imagine this woman was supposedly hired to help "incompetent people," or god forbid children! I was often asked why I was being treated like I was incompetent, but she would look at me in the same way as all the "assigned lawyers" at City Court would and viciously say I just didn't understand. If she did give me an answer it was just a blatant lie based on lies she was getting from my ex-husband, going along with whatever he and his vicious Divorce Attorney said. He would often say vicious things in court and these lies would become fact. Things like I really wasn't homeless, I was "partying" it up in a camping ground. On this occasion I had rented an apartment in a camping ground because that is all I could get on such short notice after being put on the street and arrested. By that time I had been sleeping in my car for weeks wherever I could find a safe place to park. All my personal belongings still in a storage unit put there by the police department. If I asked to get my own lawyer, it was denied on the grounds that I didn't "get along" with anyone and therefore it was not allowed. Increasingly, I was not able to get any of the money that we had together. This had been ongoing in the marriage also. I was told from the start of the marriage, all the money was going on our properties, to pay our mortgages, renovate the properties, and pay the taxes that increased all the time! I was yet to learn about Economic Abuse.
She gave another lawyer, not even a divorce attorney the $2,000 I was finally, after much anguish given to get a lawyer. After I talked to this lawyer for 10min in McDonalds I asked why the $2,000 wasn't given to me. I got a voice message that weekend that she was out of town and by Monday "they had already decided that this was my new lawyer." Accusing me of "being agitated" again whenever I questioned why I was being forced to accept "assigned lawyers" and could not get my own Divorce Attorney, which I had been trying to call and make appointments. Someone who would understand the way money was being handled all the time, the violence and the fact I was being made homeless consistently. Arrested numerous times by that point for things I didn't do. I was repeatedly told the "Cases" with City Court wasn't anything they could do about in Supreme Court. By this time, I had been pleading numerous times for answers to questions about my car, which I was continually told they had no information about and I was ignored constantly about my questions about being forced on the street, arrested and made homeless. Why I could not return to any of the properties we had together and how was I to manage all this with no car, no access to money and no place to live. By this time, my business was basically all in storage and I wasn't working. This after working the entire marriage or having unemployment. I had no income each month and was being forced to use my Chase Visa card. I had good credit, but as time went on it was clear that I would be stuck paying expenses while we were still married with no income to ruin my credit, lose all my cards and keep me from ever having credit again—all planned!
I discussed that this money but was in fact, part of an inheritance from my ex-husband's cousin who on her death bed had an epiphany. At that time I had no idea they all had been involved in the plan to leave me with nothing. That there had been "Family money" when I married, but I was routinely told everyone basically had nothing. Just "hardworking" people who after working so hard did well, but nothing more than that. She put my name on the money we were supposed to both get, but like all the other scams I never got my share and instead, it was now being doled out like some big gift from him each week—not even monthly! Money that had been always "managed" this way in the marriage too. I was coerced into spending my money for our "monthly budget" I see now that he basically lived off my money, paying off which would end up being "his properties" and banking his money. All the while deceiving me into believing this money was used to pay our mortgage, fix up our "rental business" and save for "our retirement," our lakehouse property, and other "investments" we had—all lies from the start. I was a "lucky girl" from a "poor divorced welfare family" who now had a "Financial Portfolio," with a "Professional Financial Planner." By cooperating, I was not only a "Good Wife," but a "Working Girl" doing very well!
A couple of tablespoons of Peanut butter and I can get through with no food. The days go by now and I have mostly come to terms with this nightmare. I pretty much can't do anything now. I was told it would be like that. I would have "no way out" this time, he said. The final end result of years of Economic Abuse, finally culminating in being deliberately made homeless with nothing—all planned! Threats continue of even the small alimony I get stopping. My own savings gone—taken in scams by all the evictions. I think of all the apartments I was evicted out of now. Usually, I had about a day to "vacate the premises." The slow erosion of my life made it increasingly difficult to continuously get another apartment. "Proof of Income" was now the norm, as were the calculations about income to rent ratio. All the evictions were gross lies and took their toll. The heat was always denied, the noise was constant and there was always someone to make "complaints" about the way I lived. Appliances never worked and each place more of my belongings were being stolen. If I questioned this, I was called "Paranoid" and told that I had a "Psychotic Break." Family members I hadn't seen in 20-years were showing up to tell me that I had one and I should just "accept it" and "let everything all go." If I questioned this, it was meant with threats to have me arrested. One family member, a distant cousin who had always caused trouble and that I hadn't seen in 20-years, her brother had molested me, even sent over her husband that I had never meant to threaten me—reporting me to National Grid. He worked for them and problems with National Grid were constant because the heat never worked in places I tried to rent. When he showed up, my hair had been falling out from a "Gas leak." I had called about smelling gas. I also had been without heat the entire time at this apartment, but he told me that I was unstable, made threats and called to report me.
It's hard when your so weak from not having eaten for days, unable to shower and trying to process the ongoing anxiety from having to come to terms with 20-years of your life stolen. I can remember years ago before I was married there would be pages of apartments and jobs here, but as the years went by they became less and less. Each time we needed new tenants for our rental apartments I would be grateful I had my home and work that much harder on it. Knowing times were getting increasingly bad for people again. Regular people like myself growing up poor in a rural area with limited opportunities and resources. Connections and friends were always hard to make here. Certain families were always given preferential treatment. It was always about who you knew. It's that way in a lot of places, but rural areas can be extremely difficult. After all these years it's now next to impossible for me to get a job, not that my skills aren't still relevant or decent, even though I am older, but because I was rarely given local opportunities and if I was it would last a few months before I was fired. To think this was all done on purpose makes me so overwhelmed at times I have to sit down. There is just too much to come to terms with at times. Too many memories, too many things stolen, too much of my life now that has been ripped to shreds.
"Divorces are never easy!" I was told in that contemptuous way I had come to expect whenever I asked for help or explained this was not a regular divorce or even a hard one. How can people do this to someone? People just routinely would take my money and laugh or give me a lecture about how divorces are hard and I should quit complaining. I would often be left in even worse shape than before. More of my things stolen, more money taken, more arrests for things I didn't do. I had no idea at the time this was all adding up to make me look "Incompetent." That I'ed had a "Psychotic Break" had one before at the start of the marriage, was unable to live on my own and to make me seem "crazy," a person who "did nothing with their life," but at the time I just kept trying to get a safe place to live. A place to call home, a place where I wasn't being continually harassed. A place where I had heat and where my sweet dog and I weren't subjected to constant noise. The noise, moves and violence were taking a toll on him also. I hated that he was suffering as much as me if not more.
I thought how sensitive his ears were and I knew the cold was getting to him. He was having more and more colds. His little eyes watery and sad with too much yellow-colored build-up. His once shiny beautiful coat becoming thinner and thinner from the stress. We often could not go for walks or play too much. Our grooming times were becoming less and less. Our schedule was constantly erratic, uncertain—frightening. This was becoming a regular thing, as were threats he would be taken. I would move in the landlord would seem nice and then the abuse would start. The noise would start—ungodly at times. All-day long, people banging, stomping in and out—partying. I was even told at one place the landlord was trying to get the person to leave because of "the noise," but was unsuccessful. This landlord though had no problem evicting me after a few months. Supposedly dumping my few belongings on the porch. I was at a Psych Ward at the time after severing 4 months in Jail and this is what I was told.
After I was finally able to get out of that horrible place, I was able to go through what was left and so much was stolen that I had basically nothing even to wear—nothing left. The few things left were stuffed in a couple black plastic garbage bags that were mismatched, ripped, or just plain out of season. This particular tenant made constant noise and had also by this time repeatedly shoved me around and had assaulted me, giving me a black eye, but I was the one arrested. Then arrested right away again for "Resisting Arrest," which I never did, but then I was jailed—everything would be gone by then. Taken at that time to the local hospital here St Mary's and called a "drunk," while nothing was done for my cut cheek and a black eye, not even a bandaid. By this time being taken to the hospital, in $1,000 ambulance rides no less, was also a constant occurrence. Ongoing labels of all kinds of bullshit. Defiant, Drunk, Paranoid, Uncooperative, Suicidal—Agitated. The litany of false accusations and numerous "evaluations" adding up no matter how many times I told "professionals" what was going on or what was being done to me. Forget any Medical care. I complained but was ignored. One time I was sprayed in the eyes with a chemical but told I had a "Psychotic Break" and was "brandishing a gun." My eyes were never rinsed, flushed, checked or cleaned.
Thank god I can order online. Maybe today I can order more Peanut butter, but problems with the Post Office continue—I rarely get mail now. I have changed my address so many times not only adding to my poor credit history but making it part of the reason I don't get mail. I also I found it was continuously being stolen. The Post Office would "hold it," but often only for a little while and then send it back resulting in of course "no response from me," proof I was not able to live my life. The Post Office never any help. "It's the way things are done," whenever I explained the violence, evictions, and problems getting mail. Even getting a postal box was a problem. My license and debit card were stolen when I was assaulted and all the important documents my ex-husband had stolen when he had me arrested. This was often used to accuse me of not answering "Official Documents" like court dates, directives and things like being served evictions, warrants and fines—it was an ongoing nightmare. Collection calls and bills were about the only things that I did get, which I came to see as part of making me believe I was in fact "Incompetent." That I had a "Psychotic Break," and was violent—unable to live on my own. Collections for ambulance rides and so-called "treatment" to the local hospital St Mary's to force me to get "evaluations." The diagnosis of course that I was incompetent and had been my entire life. Abusive Psychologists at Hutchins Psych Ward in Syracuse NY recently told me it was because I was "High Functioning" that I was able to even last this long. I had to laugh incredulously by this time. They had a fucked up diagnosis for every human emotion, feeling and experience and there was even one for "not accepting the diagnosis"—Anosognosia! On top of that your "Defiant" if you continue to not accept that. I reach for the last of the Peanut butter and cry about how fat I'm getting and out of shape. Mentally ill people are fat and out of shape I'm told too.
At 50, I had been so fit and healthy, but now with the way, I was being treated my health was being destroyed—on purpose. Being fit and healthy and looking a certain way is part of being able to get good professional jobs. He would often sneer and tell me about getting those "Cushy jobs" I would get. Implying I lied to get them and didn't work hard, but then if I told him I was overqualified for some entry-level jobs he would tell me to just "lie on your application." I thought I was too good to take those jobs, he would say. This was never true, but it was an ongoing problem to always explain professional jobs and the career ladder to people that had jobs that had guaranteed promotions and hierarchies. The Union jobs, State or Public servant jobs that most of his friends and family had.
I think of the fat in Peanut butter and can't believe I'm eating like this. I use to just have a little on my toast in the morning—wheat of course. Because I was not allowed to use "his Health Insurance" even though working manufacturing he got it paid, my coverage was only for "emergencies," and of course it was my fault I often "had problems at work" and had to change policies often or wait to get them. It was because I "didn't get along with anybody." I rarely used Health Insurance and just tried to be as healthy as I could. The fat is starting to roll over my pants—Menopause. He told me that was planned too. My mother-in-law had quite a few sisters and I'm sure because he was a "late baby" he learned all about it. "You'll be in menopause" he sneered contemptuously towards the end, "No one will want you!" At the time, I had not been worried because I was trying to keep healthy and in fact, felt great about my health as I was approaching Menopause. Other than the abuse, he was increasingly displaying, I had no idea the nightmare he had been planning all along. My gym membership was one of the first things he canceled, even though it was paid by me. Once my car was taken it was impossible to go to the gym. I had been going to various gyms since my 20's, but I take a deep breath, tell myself I am alive and know that Peanut butter got me through the worse and probably will continue to. I have to try and order some more today.
I had missed just a couple of court dates after being made homeless and this is when all these extremely important financial decisions were made. When I questioned the settlement I never agreed to or signed, I was told I was lucky to get anything. Being homeless was no excuse and I should be glad I got anything because the Judge was going to put me in "default." I had not even been asked about anything concerning my future or what was in my best interest. All these questions were decided by people I had spoken to a only a few times up to that point.
One was an Ad litem who routinely told me to "go to a homeless shelter" that my personal belongings in storage would be auctioned off—I heard this repeatedly. I remembered at the end of the marriage my ex-husband would watch these shows about people's storage units being seized. I thought they were awful shows. People exploiting other people's misery and heartache and putting their lives in even more danger. I knew what it was like not to have the things you needed. I grew up going without things all the time—poverty is difficult. This voyeuristic type of behavior combined with the violation of a person made me sick—reminded me of growing up. Poverty is always a reason others use to humiliate because of course it's always your fault even when you're a child. I had thought by that point after all the hard work I was going to be ok, but I was to learn everything in my life would be stolen.
Even writing it now makes my head hurt, feelings engulf me and waves of nausea start if I'm not careful. The futile attempts I made to talk to her and tell her my story and the dismissive way she treated me. The verbal and emotional abuse was so bad. She would basically wave her hand at me whenever I attempted to ask about my home or how this was even legal or that I had over 20-years of things in storage. So much original artwork and photography for my business, it overwhelmed me to think about it being all gone—I would have nothing. So much that I would never be able to replace. She would dismiss my concerns and either just not speak, giving me the "silent treatment" or imply in that way that was becoming what everyone did that was involved in this was that I just "didn't understand" that there was just "something wrong with you." She already acted as if she knew all about me. It became increasingly clear it had all been mapped out how it would all go long before I talked to any of these people.
If I asked questiones she would act as if I wasn't understanding and then just basically stop talking. If she did say things it was to give me directives about what was going on and if I didn't take the directive or questioned it she would end the discussion, just stop talking implying that I was in fact "incompetent." It took me a while to understand this was the motive all along. In fact the motive when we first married—to make me appear that way. She knew exactly how to do this, but at the time I had no idea how this worked. I had no idea about Gaslighting or that so-called "professionals" would imploy it also. I had no idea what an Ad Litem did or why I had to have one. I was to see that in fact she basically did know all about the me that was being made up. The person my ex-husband had made up a long time ago. The made-up person who was mentally ill did nothing and was incompetent. After 20-years of Gaslighting, he had it all worked out about what he made up about me and had everyone I knew doing the same.
"She's agitated!" The judge sternly told the court when after one of my pleas about being homeless was ignored. I asked if I could be excused to use the restroom. By this time, I was often made to wait on this Judge, Ad Litem, and my ex-husband's Attorney who would often be late. A few times close to 2 hr. Waiting an hour for all of them in the lobby was a regular occurrence, laughing and joking as if they were all old friends. I went to the restroom and vomited. Being homeless was unconscionable, but that was to be a regular occurrence of how I was being treated. Less than human—an object. I didn't think it would be a problem to excuse myself to use the restroom, but it was written up as I "walked out" and was "agitated." This was used as the excuse as to why I needed an Ad Litem when I questioned yet again why it was I was being told I was an "incompetent adult."
By this time there had been a few of them. As soon as I walked into Family court one was there. I was under the impression Family court was only when you had children, but when I went to the local Domestic Violence agency they told me they could do nothing for me and to go to Family court. They all acted the same, insinuating things that weren't true, picking fights in the lobby to get the guards to tell me to "quiet down" whenever I seem to be "upset about things," which was just basically being stunned about the way I was being treated. Guards hoovered right from the beginning implying I was one of those people that "had to be watched." If I spoke too much or raised my voice they pretended to appear like they would grab me. At first, the intimidation was jarring and frightening, but I came to see it was being done on purpose—it just seemed so "crazy," which was the point! Being a competent professional for my entire career, having successful businesses and a number of other assets and being talked to like I was a "delinquent child" was just too much. I wouldn't even talk to a child in the way I was being talked to. Even children require consideration and the respect of being human beings and able to speak about their feelings and what they think.
In the beginning, I tried to keep up by sending emails to counter the horrible lies that this woman was spewing, but she basically ignored them. I couldn't imagine this woman was supposedly hired to help "incompetent people," or god forbid children! I was often asked why I was being treated like I was incompetent, but she would look at me in the same way as all the "assigned lawyers" at City Court would and viciously say I just didn't understand. If she did give me an answer it was just a blatant lie based on lies she was getting from my ex-husband, going along with whatever he and his vicious Divorce Attorney said. He would often say vicious things in court and these lies would become fact. Things like I really wasn't homeless, I was "partying" it up in a camping ground. On this occasion I had rented an apartment in a camping ground because that is all I could get on such short notice after being put on the street and arrested. By that time I had been sleeping in my car for weeks wherever I could find a safe place to park. All my personal belongings still in a storage unit put there by the police department. If I asked to get my own lawyer, it was denied on the grounds that I didn't "get along" with anyone and therefore it was not allowed. Increasingly, I was not able to get any of the money that we had together. This had been ongoing in the marriage also. I was told from the start of the marriage, all the money was going on our properties, to pay our mortgages, renovate the properties, and pay the taxes that increased all the time! I was yet to learn about Economic Abuse.
She gave another lawyer, not even a divorce attorney the $2,000 I was finally, after much anguish given to get a lawyer. After I talked to this lawyer for 10min in McDonalds I asked why the $2,000 wasn't given to me. I got a voice message that weekend that she was out of town and by Monday "they had already decided that this was my new lawyer." Accusing me of "being agitated" again whenever I questioned why I was being forced to accept "assigned lawyers" and could not get my own Divorce Attorney, which I had been trying to call and make appointments. Someone who would understand the way money was being handled all the time, the violence and the fact I was being made homeless consistently. Arrested numerous times by that point for things I didn't do. I was repeatedly told the "Cases" with City Court wasn't anything they could do about in Supreme Court. By this time, I had been pleading numerous times for answers to questions about my car, which I was continually told they had no information about and I was ignored constantly about my questions about being forced on the street, arrested and made homeless. Why I could not return to any of the properties we had together and how was I to manage all this with no car, no access to money and no place to live. By this time, my business was basically all in storage and I wasn't working. This after working the entire marriage or having unemployment. I had no income each month and was being forced to use my Chase Visa card. I had good credit, but as time went on it was clear that I would be stuck paying expenses while we were still married with no income to ruin my credit, lose all my cards and keep me from ever having credit again—all planned!
I discussed that this money but was in fact, part of an inheritance from my ex-husband's cousin who on her death bed had an epiphany. At that time I had no idea they all had been involved in the plan to leave me with nothing. That there had been "Family money" when I married, but I was routinely told everyone basically had nothing. Just "hardworking" people who after working so hard did well, but nothing more than that. She put my name on the money we were supposed to both get, but like all the other scams I never got my share and instead, it was now being doled out like some big gift from him each week—not even monthly! Money that had been always "managed" this way in the marriage too. I was coerced into spending my money for our "monthly budget" I see now that he basically lived off my money, paying off which would end up being "his properties" and banking his money. All the while deceiving me into believing this money was used to pay our mortgage, fix up our "rental business" and save for "our retirement," our lakehouse property, and other "investments" we had—all lies from the start. I was a "lucky girl" from a "poor divorced welfare family" who now had a "Financial Portfolio," with a "Professional Financial Planner." By cooperating, I was not only a "Good Wife," but a "Working Girl" doing very well!
A couple of tablespoons of Peanut butter and I can get through with no food. The days go by now and I have mostly come to terms with this nightmare. I pretty much can't do anything now. I was told it would be like that. I would have "no way out" this time, he said. The final end result of years of Economic Abuse, finally culminating in being deliberately made homeless with nothing—all planned! Threats continue of even the small alimony I get stopping. My own savings gone—taken in scams by all the evictions. I think of all the apartments I was evicted out of now. Usually, I had about a day to "vacate the premises." The slow erosion of my life made it increasingly difficult to continuously get another apartment. "Proof of Income" was now the norm, as were the calculations about income to rent ratio. All the evictions were gross lies and took their toll. The heat was always denied, the noise was constant and there was always someone to make "complaints" about the way I lived. Appliances never worked and each place more of my belongings were being stolen. If I questioned this, I was called "Paranoid" and told that I had a "Psychotic Break." Family members I hadn't seen in 20-years were showing up to tell me that I had one and I should just "accept it" and "let everything all go." If I questioned this, it was meant with threats to have me arrested. One family member, a distant cousin who had always caused trouble and that I hadn't seen in 20-years, her brother had molested me, even sent over her husband that I had never meant to threaten me—reporting me to National Grid. He worked for them and problems with National Grid were constant because the heat never worked in places I tried to rent. When he showed up, my hair had been falling out from a "Gas leak." I had called about smelling gas. I also had been without heat the entire time at this apartment, but he told me that I was unstable, made threats and called to report me.
It's hard when your so weak from not having eaten for days, unable to shower and trying to process the ongoing anxiety from having to come to terms with 20-years of your life stolen. I can remember years ago before I was married there would be pages of apartments and jobs here, but as the years went by they became less and less. Each time we needed new tenants for our rental apartments I would be grateful I had my home and work that much harder on it. Knowing times were getting increasingly bad for people again. Regular people like myself growing up poor in a rural area with limited opportunities and resources. Connections and friends were always hard to make here. Certain families were always given preferential treatment. It was always about who you knew. It's that way in a lot of places, but rural areas can be extremely difficult. After all these years it's now next to impossible for me to get a job, not that my skills aren't still relevant or decent, even though I am older, but because I was rarely given local opportunities and if I was it would last a few months before I was fired. To think this was all done on purpose makes me so overwhelmed at times I have to sit down. There is just too much to come to terms with at times. Too many memories, too many things stolen, too much of my life now that has been ripped to shreds.
"Divorces are never easy!" I was told in that contemptuous way I had come to expect whenever I asked for help or explained this was not a regular divorce or even a hard one. How can people do this to someone? People just routinely would take my money and laugh or give me a lecture about how divorces are hard and I should quit complaining. I would often be left in even worse shape than before. More of my things stolen, more money taken, more arrests for things I didn't do. I had no idea at the time this was all adding up to make me look "Incompetent." That I'ed had a "Psychotic Break" had one before at the start of the marriage, was unable to live on my own and to make me seem "crazy," a person who "did nothing with their life," but at the time I just kept trying to get a safe place to live. A place to call home, a place where I wasn't being continually harassed. A place where I had heat and where my sweet dog and I weren't subjected to constant noise. The noise, moves and violence were taking a toll on him also. I hated that he was suffering as much as me if not more.
I thought how sensitive his ears were and I knew the cold was getting to him. He was having more and more colds. His little eyes watery and sad with too much yellow-colored build-up. His once shiny beautiful coat becoming thinner and thinner from the stress. We often could not go for walks or play too much. Our grooming times were becoming less and less. Our schedule was constantly erratic, uncertain—frightening. This was becoming a regular thing, as were threats he would be taken. I would move in the landlord would seem nice and then the abuse would start. The noise would start—ungodly at times. All-day long, people banging, stomping in and out—partying. I was even told at one place the landlord was trying to get the person to leave because of "the noise," but was unsuccessful. This landlord though had no problem evicting me after a few months. Supposedly dumping my few belongings on the porch. I was at a Psych Ward at the time after severing 4 months in Jail and this is what I was told.
After I was finally able to get out of that horrible place, I was able to go through what was left and so much was stolen that I had basically nothing even to wear—nothing left. The few things left were stuffed in a couple black plastic garbage bags that were mismatched, ripped, or just plain out of season. This particular tenant made constant noise and had also by this time repeatedly shoved me around and had assaulted me, giving me a black eye, but I was the one arrested. Then arrested right away again for "Resisting Arrest," which I never did, but then I was jailed—everything would be gone by then. Taken at that time to the local hospital here St Mary's and called a "drunk," while nothing was done for my cut cheek and a black eye, not even a bandaid. By this time being taken to the hospital, in $1,000 ambulance rides no less, was also a constant occurrence. Ongoing labels of all kinds of bullshit. Defiant, Drunk, Paranoid, Uncooperative, Suicidal—Agitated. The litany of false accusations and numerous "evaluations" adding up no matter how many times I told "professionals" what was going on or what was being done to me. Forget any Medical care. I complained but was ignored. One time I was sprayed in the eyes with a chemical but told I had a "Psychotic Break" and was "brandishing a gun." My eyes were never rinsed, flushed, checked or cleaned.
Thank god I can order online. Maybe today I can order more Peanut butter, but problems with the Post Office continue—I rarely get mail now. I have changed my address so many times not only adding to my poor credit history but making it part of the reason I don't get mail. I also I found it was continuously being stolen. The Post Office would "hold it," but often only for a little while and then send it back resulting in of course "no response from me," proof I was not able to live my life. The Post Office never any help. "It's the way things are done," whenever I explained the violence, evictions, and problems getting mail. Even getting a postal box was a problem. My license and debit card were stolen when I was assaulted and all the important documents my ex-husband had stolen when he had me arrested. This was often used to accuse me of not answering "Official Documents" like court dates, directives and things like being served evictions, warrants and fines—it was an ongoing nightmare. Collection calls and bills were about the only things that I did get, which I came to see as part of making me believe I was in fact "Incompetent." That I had a "Psychotic Break," and was violent—unable to live on my own. Collections for ambulance rides and so-called "treatment" to the local hospital St Mary's to force me to get "evaluations." The diagnosis of course that I was incompetent and had been my entire life. Abusive Psychologists at Hutchins Psych Ward in Syracuse NY recently told me it was because I was "High Functioning" that I was able to even last this long. I had to laugh incredulously by this time. They had a fucked up diagnosis for every human emotion, feeling and experience and there was even one for "not accepting the diagnosis"—Anosognosia! On top of that your "Defiant" if you continue to not accept that. I reach for the last of the Peanut butter and cry about how fat I'm getting and out of shape. Mentally ill people are fat and out of shape I'm told too.
At 50, I had been so fit and healthy, but now with the way, I was being treated my health was being destroyed—on purpose. Being fit and healthy and looking a certain way is part of being able to get good professional jobs. He would often sneer and tell me about getting those "Cushy jobs" I would get. Implying I lied to get them and didn't work hard, but then if I told him I was overqualified for some entry-level jobs he would tell me to just "lie on your application." I thought I was too good to take those jobs, he would say. This was never true, but it was an ongoing problem to always explain professional jobs and the career ladder to people that had jobs that had guaranteed promotions and hierarchies. The Union jobs, State or Public servant jobs that most of his friends and family had.
I think of the fat in Peanut butter and can't believe I'm eating like this. I use to just have a little on my toast in the morning—wheat of course. Because I was not allowed to use "his Health Insurance" even though working manufacturing he got it paid, my coverage was only for "emergencies," and of course it was my fault I often "had problems at work" and had to change policies often or wait to get them. It was because I "didn't get along with anybody." I rarely used Health Insurance and just tried to be as healthy as I could. The fat is starting to roll over my pants—Menopause. He told me that was planned too. My mother-in-law had quite a few sisters and I'm sure because he was a "late baby" he learned all about it. "You'll be in menopause" he sneered contemptuously towards the end, "No one will want you!" At the time, I had not been worried because I was trying to keep healthy and in fact, felt great about my health as I was approaching Menopause. Other than the abuse, he was increasingly displaying, I had no idea the nightmare he had been planning all along. My gym membership was one of the first things he canceled, even though it was paid by me. Once my car was taken it was impossible to go to the gym. I had been going to various gyms since my 20's, but I take a deep breath, tell myself I am alive and know that Peanut butter got me through the worse and probably will continue to. I have to try and order some more today.
Stolen artwork; Mixed media collage.
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