I fill out forms and more forms and even more forms, as I drive myself into a tizzy. The very needed certificate to prove I took a course years ago has been printed.
With this tiny slip of paper, I am suddenly employable. Irony….it’s been so long since I took the course and test, that I don’t remember what I learned. That doesn’t matter, but the slip of paper shows I did it at one point in time. If I had had that tiny slip of paper with me on Sunday, I would have been hired on the spot.
I was “higher educated” than him. I “married beneath me.” Both things he said. Yes, I had had some post-secondary school education, but I “flunked out” for want of better words. I don’t remember anything I was taught. Not that I had the mind for it. It was training that I didn’t have the knack for.
But I did have it.
There was a small accident today. The very precious memorabilia from his mother got damaged, so I threw it out. I’m okay. No bruises or anything. It stopped me from falling and hurting myself.
The irony is that it was a poster we have been dragging around from place to place, and it hasn’t been put up since about two moves ago. I begged him to hang it. Instead, it got dragged out of the laundry room about two weeks ago and was floating around the living room. I was moving it out of the way, stumbled and… it broke in 3. But it had started to mould anyway on a bottom corner anyway, so out it went.
Kinda makes me wonder where my “Elfquest – 30 years of fantasy with teeth” poster went. Last time I saw it was in our previous place. Did he leave that behind?
There’s a lot of “last time I saw its” I’ve been having. Last time I saw my favorite little bunny stuffie, it was in my “injun bag” that was hanging from a storage shelving unit right after getting home from shopping. He decided to move the shelving unit for safety. I never saw either item again and I know I tore the place apart.
That bag was my favorite bag for shopping and more. It was my purse and I loved it.
Other stuff of mine would go missing, never to be seen again. I assumed it was me misplacing things.
Oh, how I was wrong.
“Mom, I feel guilty keeping his secrets,” said one of the children.
Hemming and hawing, and finally, “when you went out, he would throw your stuff out.”
I asked what they meant, and they gave me examples of when they were told to take stuff to the trash – my property. My stuff. Mom hasn’t read this book? Throw it out. Mom hasn’t read this magazine in a year? Throw it out.
“He put your giant teddy bear and your spinning wheel in the storage. He was going to throw them out next.”
Except some of the things that were thrown out were stuff I could not replace easily, if ever. My spinning wheel? I paid $2 for it. A new one would cost several hundred to replace it. My sewing machine? Can’t find a part for it. Out it goes. The replacement? Out that went cause the same part is missing. New one? Similar part is poofed from the machine, but I know where it is. Oh yes, I do.
No wonder I’ve been buying twos and threes of things. No wonder I’ve gone crazy buying tiny stuffies. I knew he threw out a stack of my crafting magazines without my permission two weeks before I was going to go through them and donate them to my kids’ school.
I’m missing sketchbooks. Clothing. Shoes. Jackets. Books. Crafting supplies. Kitchen supplies. I hate having to buy multiple items because I can’t find stuff. Finding out he was throwing things out at random? Priceless.
Keep going… Keep going… must keep going for the kids.
I spent $40 today I didn’t want to. $45 really. I got some dollar store drinks for the kids, and a gatorade for me. I still can’t eat much, if anything. The rest was spent on a charger for the car to keep it going till I can get it fixed. Any day now. Really.
The place is a pigsty. The kids have decided dad’s and our exfriend’s stuff has to go. “Can I throw out this broken Golem?” Smash it went. “Can I throw this out?” “No, let’s see if I can sell that for money.”
I’m letting the kids make decisions on how they want the house, but not all of them. I need to downgrade from the king sized bed I have to a queen or even a double. I don’t need big bed anymore.
I did something today I have not done in eons. I made my bed. I am going to go back on the “Flylady” program and get my home out of chaos, so I can be arty again. We’re getting an inspection next Wednesday. I hope we pass.
One slight bit of selfishness I need to do. I need to get my eyes checked. Long story short, I need new contacts desperately.
Spitfire welcomed me to her arms today. I missed them. I missed being hers so much.