October can’t come sooner

This house I’ve lived in for two and a half years and had my daughter in is not mine. I get reminded of that constantly.

I don’t work because I’m a stay at home mom. So my money is not my own. I get reminded of that constantly.

When I moved into this house, I was expected to get rid of everything. So everything here is not my own. I get reminded of that constantly.

So, I am left with nothing but the clothes in the closet, my crafting supplies, an outdated computer, a calphalon pan set, a dresser, some knickknacks and a chair and stool set.

I have never felt welcome here and am treated with little respect. I am expected to do everything including stuff that has nothing to do with me. If I don’t do it, my son is expected to.

If I protest, it’s disregarded. If I threaten to leave, it’s disregarded. If I attempt to become independent, it’s squashed and I’m reminded of why my son and I are allowed to live here.

I am expected to take care of this man, this baby and this house and nothing else. If anything else comes first, like my son, it’s squashed.

I don’t like how I’m treated, so I’m leaving. I have no idea where I’m going. I have no idea how to take most of my stuff, but I’m leaving.

Fuck up thing? My youngest son is flying into town on Thursday and I can’t be homeless with him. I will have to stay put for another month until he leaves. Waiting. Wondering. Impatient for October 2nd.


About BrooklyneChaos

What about me? Would any adjective change your opinion or help you better understand where I come from? I don't think so. If you really must know more, read my blog. It'll tell you everything and nothing about me -- all at the same time. View all posts by BrooklyneChaos

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