This is a copy-paste of all the posts regarding Kirby, spelling & formatting mistakes included. It is massive, in order, & a serious TL:DR post. But if you want to read it on one page then here ya go!
I was copy-pasting for a print out log so figured I may as well post the finished thing as well.
Here ya go & congrats to anyone who reads it!!
Here are the nicknames & relations
Echidna ♀️ (great grandmother) 💍 Typhon ♂️ (great grandfather)
Begot
Demon ♀️ (grandmother)
Demon & her 3 mates Begot
Kirby ♀️ (mother) 💍 Dad ♂️ & Indian-not-indian Shaman ♂️ (half? uncle) & Ginger Mastermind ⚣ (half? uncle/essentially adopted older brother)
Kirby & dad begot
[deceased at birth older bro] ♂️ & Twink ♀️ (me) 💍 Hubs ♂️ & Bro ♂️
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October 24 2018
[JustNo/Narc Mom] Kirby & Twink's National Treasure Dive Into Paperwork
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[JustNo/Narc Mom] Kirby & Twink's National Treasure Dive Into Paperwork
[This is cross-posted to a couple support groups.] Kirby (mid 50's) ODed June 2018, she is no longer tormenting me. She followed when me, hub’s, & bro moved out for the first time because the family home was foreclosed on. (her fault) We could not get her evicted or put in an institution due to her spinning a legal web that could have ended up with Adult Protective Services wrongfully going after me. (Not that we could not have 100% no problem cleared it up without question, but it would have taken time & we may be looking into adopting someday so I need no stains on my record) We were just getting an elder law lawyer involved for my dad's divorce, her eviction, & perhaps a restraining order too only two weeks before she overdosed. So after a lifetime under her roof & four years under mine I am free from her mental, verbal, covert sexual, medical, & physical abuse. If you want to read the backstory my chronology of posts is pinned to the top of my profile.
I want to say thank you for all the kind comments & for the support. I really appreciate it, you guys gave me so much hope through all this & the offers of continued support makes me feel all fuzzy inside & very grateful. Y'all pulled me out of the FOG that Hubs had thinned.
TL:DR at the bottom
So I have been plugging along at the hoarded junk & finally had a chance to turn to mine & hubs' room. During this clean up any paper/letter/document/note/manual/receipt/etc has flowed into our room & on/under/around/burying my desk.
Lil bit here to maybe explain why. I am a stay at home wife. I was Kirby's 24/7 caretaker officially, like get out of jury summons official. I still am a caretaker for my dad but he is a warm spring breeze compared to the squall I toddled out of.
I am a writer & was making money on books & art but Kirby squashed that like a bug. I will be doing it again once the house is cleared so I do/will have a "money earning job" hahaa.
On top of my caretaking & my pathetically piddly trickle of creative career I am the family "secretary", "stock manager", "head chef", "book keeper", & "banker". I handle all the calls, mail, schedule all appointments, oversee all bank accounts & manage 90% of them, manage all investments, keep all the paperwork filed & easy to find, safeguard all keepsakes from damage + being lost, manage all the bills, manage the budgeting, keep us with a natural disaster 1-2 month pantry supply that I rotate + manage, set up 90% of the meals + enlist family member to help in the cooking, & plan for the futuretm .
I like doing all of this. Despite the current look of my house I have the spirit of a very organized person (I am the whack job who giggles at binders like some women giggle at shoes) so it is pretty easy to do for me.
I take care of mine + hubs, my dad's, & my bro's (aside from his day to day bank & cash savings). It may be weird but it works & to me it is fun. I tried to back off of it once because Kirby was screaming at me to relinquish control & calling me a bossy nag (she did that a lot now that I look back). I did not want to, no one but her wanted me to, & it took me 6 months to recover my system from a month of not implementing it. I am still finding stray paperwork from that time.
Anywaaaaay~ back on track, Twink.
So I had this mountain of papers equally mixed with important, medical, shred, keepsake, & file for possible future incidents. That has been my monster for the past 3 days & boy have I found a lot.
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I was only 11 when she purchased the feathered demon blue & gold macaw that she agreed to hand feed then gave up, demanding I do it. Claimed I had begged for the bird & it was "my" bird. But at that time I was coming on to year 2 of being pseudo mommy to my brother & taking care of the household chores. No way in Hades' Dinner Parlor would I have volunteered for more responsibility.
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Found a bond thing from my evil incarnate bio grandmother & it actually has my name on it unlike her usual gift-not-gifts. So... yay! Money! ... in 20 years. shrugs
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Tons of paperwork from dad & Kirby's foreclosure scam (not Kirby's scam surprisingly but the lender's).
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Mine & bro's child immunization record cards. I got 30 different shots. My bro got 6. She had me stabbed over 3 times more than my brother who was only 4 years younger so it was not like a great medical advancement. Tons of the shots were after he was born.
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Cards from long, long, long dead relatives. I mean like... died 20+ years before I was born. I am a genealogy mini geek so I thought they were cool as heck.
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The records for my dead companion pup I spoke about last post. Adoption to death.
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F'ing creepy... honestly gonna have to say what it reminded me of... love notes... for my husband that went straight in the shredder. Dripping with that sickeningly sweet mommy of the year BS that she pulled on everyone. These were from the time of pre-fiance hubs & when he would spend the weekend over. Lots of "There are 3 Tupperwares of food in the fridge" (yeah. That I made for him. Because surely I forgot to tell my mate about the food his woman make. Ug! Ug! chest thump) "We all love you." "If I am not awake before you go..." (Nani da f●●k? That is love note opening stuff. I can guarantee you walrus-face my husband was too preoccupied with his last minute goodbye presents to give a shit about you being awake.) Straight to the shredder. She never ever in my LIFE wrote my dad a love note for his lunch box. But she wrote them for my boyfriend-turned fiance-turned husband.
shudders -
Paperwork stating that my computer is actually mine & not hers. SHOCKER!
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Her life insurance policy that would have covered her cremation but instead she demanded I do the leg work & cash it in for her to buy the pool that turned into Shrek's swamp & was finally drained + thrown away earlier this month.
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The granddaddy of them all.
A letter addressed to me when I was a young teen. That was equal parts bashing me with a Bible (I am nondenominational Christian & always have been without straying sooooo... not sure what this was about) & a girl on girl version of covert Jacosta. I kept it to always remember how freakin nuts she was. But reading it... Lord help me!
It started off talking about how God had gifted me my creative talent & how I should use it only for His will. (she did not do the cap on the pronoun which both irked & confused me with all the rest of the Bible bashing in the letter) Kept going on & on about it until it was preachy & uncomfortable. I mean... it was like she had caught me writing porn. I only wrote erotica after meeting my husband so no. Wasn't that.
Then it segued into the "love of my life" creepy shit. Lots of declarations of love. How she waited on bated (baited ??) breath for my birth. How she prayed to meet me every night. How beautiful & talented I was. How jealous she was of said talent. How I mattered the most to her & was her love. Only I mattered in the world along with my brother. (She wrote the 3 of us. I have no idea who #3 was unless it was my stillborn much older brother. She didn't ever mention my dad in these creepy love letters) I kinda iched out about halfway through the 4 page love letter & flipped it over to see an equally love letter-esque signature on the back.
Behind it was my 2 page rebuttal letter. Because those were required. Saying how she was the best mother in the world stupid, blind, baby Twink, soooo stupid & then listed like 20 verbs, including schemer haHAA, that she was the best at. Thanking her for graciously creating me. Saying I would be nothing without her. Like 6 "love"s written at the end.
Typical narc num-nums.
Scary thing is I am not done yet. There is more, even more totes in the garage with stuff from my childhood. I have no idea what National Treasure level secrets I will find. I had already found (years ago) the letter about divorce she had written my father ON THEIR HONEYMOON!!! Telling him to give her what she wanted or the divorce train was a-commin. (Of course she was not as blunt as me, it was all weepy & woe is poor widdle ol me) Which she claimed never happened & must have later destroyed the letter.
Wish me luck in my ichy treasure hunt! I have already found a mason jar's worth of hair. Hers AND MINE!!! & not talkin baby hair. Like split ends she trimmed off & put in a jar when I was a teen. As well as teeth. Marked & unmarked. Yay! blargh
TL:DR.
National Treasure level keepsake & important paper diving has uncovered the fact she chose to stick child me with more than 3 times more needles than my brother, a mason jar's worth of her hair & a lot of mine too, unmarked + marked teeth, covert love notes to my husband, covert love letter to pre-teen me, my dead dog's paperwork from adoption to death, the actual age of the demon bird, her life insurance pool fund paperwork, a pretty stack of papers saying that my computer was in fact mine, & lots of more boring things.
November 23 2018
(Narc / Justno Mom) Kirby & Thanksgivings Past
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[JustNo/Narc Mom] Kirby & Thanksgivings Past
[This is cross-posted to a couple support groups.]
Kirby (mid 50's) ODed June 2018, she is no longer tormenting me. She followed when me, hub’s, & bro moved out for the first time because the family home was foreclosed on. (her fault) We could not get her evicted or put in an institution due to her spinning a legal web that could have ended up with Adult Protective Services wrongfully going after me. (Not that we could not have 100% without a problem cleared it up, but it would have taken time & we may be looking into adopting someday so I need no stains on my record. Even ones that get officially & legally bleached.) We were vetting an elder law lawyer for my dad's divorce, her eviction, & a restraining order only two weeks before she tried to kill me via pressing her weight into my throat & then subsequently overdosing within 36 hours. So after a lifetime under her roof & four years under mine I am free from her mental, verbal, covert sexual, medical, & physical abuse. If you want to read the backstory my chronology of posts is pinned to the top of my profile.
I want to say thank you for all the kind comments & for the support. I really appreciate it, you guys gave me so much hope through all this & the offers of continued support makes me feel all fuzzy inside & very grateful. Y'all pulled me out of the FOG that Hubs had thinned.
So I am not gonna put a TL:DR on this one because it is not so much a linear retelling as a blurb of word/memory vomit. Hahaa None of this is any particular order & is actually relatively tame considering the living underworld Kirby put me through. Just straw backs & last camels & all that jazz.
So... (You are an actual author, Twink, why do you start everything with 'so'? Ugh!)
I love to cook. I am GOOD. Like, wanted to open a country cooking dinner thing as a teenager good. (Until I read horror stories from staff & owners of such places) I love to cook. I very very rarely use a cookbook. Like maybe two dozen times a year when I want to make specific foreign foods or something my family has never had before. This is important & not bragging (well maybe a little) I swear.
My great grandmother who raised Kirby was a great cook, she owned a very sought aftet catering business way back in the days of shag carpet & wizard vans. She was probably the one that taught me to cook in all honesty, though she was a "watch me but stay out of my way" cook who did hosted every family get together & Holiday, + cooked everything herself. I had a costo step ladder h bar stool hybrid that was where my butt was supposed to stay by the sink if I was in the kitchen with her. Hahaa I never remember seeing her use a cookbook either, she had it all memorized.
Her daughter (Kirby's bio mom that had my great grandmother raise her) was the kind that added vinegar to literally everything. I now suspect that drowning things in vinegar is the only way for a demonic being to digest human food. She could not cook nor bake nor prepare anything fit for humans. There was nothing covert about this woman's pitch dark soul. Kirby learned to be subtly & secretive from watching her I think. (Honestly I may start telling about her too in the future, only a few of her antics directly involved me but man oh man she was the mustachioed villian in a silent film)
So then the maternal line went to Kirby. She could cook. I will not deny that. But her stuff was.... boring? Simple? Like she did not use any spices other than salt, seasoning salt & garlic. So her food all tasted like prepackaged deli food from a grocery store. & not Publix either. Like Walmart. She used cookbooks a lot but everytime she did she managed to somehow make it taste awful. Like... I have NO idea how but anytime she read a recipe it was 25/75 everyone would pretend to like it then let it go bad in the fridge.
So that is the back up to my maternal family's cooking skills.
● Kirby never cooked a Thanksgiving meal from my birth until I was 11, she always had my very old Great Grandmother do it. Not that anyone could wrestle the honor from her, but I do not even remember the psuedo dinner that normal people do at their house to have leftovers when visiting others. The only reason she cooked when I was 11 is because we moved. Great Grandmother followed within a year & she was back to hosting. Then she moved back again before the next Holiday. So my 13-26 Kirby cooked maybe 2 Thanksgiving dinners & helped with 2-3 more. The rest she made me cook. & those were not in a row but sporadic. I was like 14 when I orchestrated my first one alone.
● Even if she did not do the actual shopping, prepping, cooking, clean up she did the menu. I was NEVER allowed to choose what I cooked. & she NEVER kept things the same. Thanksgiving was when she would surround herself with her mountains of cookbooks h pick the weirdest (to us) hardest thing for me to cook the first time ever. & not allow me a back up in case it was not good. Which it usually was not. She like went out of her way to pick awful disgusting recipes. Even in my own home I had to cook what she demanded, I tried to stand up to her. But she pulled no stops & broke me down to a trembling sobbing mess. Then just sat & watched me do all the work while promising to help with her extra weird menu. Luckily my Bro was off of work & stepped in & made the family classic mac h cheese we always do. That mac & cheese was the only thing anyone ate that year. & she tried to say I cooked everything wrong & blame me for her disgusting food.
● I have some weird brain/memory issues. I have long suspected I had a toe dip in the Autism spectrum (it runs in my family pretty prevelantly). When someone asks left or right I always respond the opposite (was born a leftie but Kirby took it upon herself to "kindly" retrain me because "I saw how bad my brother had it with being a leftie, I did not want the same for you" then proceeded all my life to make fun of my messy handwriting) I cannot tell the months in order without starting from Jan in my head, same thing with ABC. I cannot count itemstanimals/people over five without physically touching them or the numbers get all discombobulated in my head. I have social anxiety so bad that at times I would lay awake at night wondering if I said hello wrong to a cashier. I cannot do math in my head beyond single digits & have to write it down then I am fine. I always write 'D' instead of 'B' or vice versa unless I am totally concentrating. I was very articulate with my speech from like 6 years old, reading books way beyond my age level & saying words that Kirby did not know. (My dad loved this because he was the same & he thought it was hilarious to have a mini me & we would get into discussions using those big words correctly & Kirby would get SO mad)
Just minor stuff like that where it is annoying but not really an issue unless someone starts making fun of me & then it gets worse (Kirby loved doing that)
In conclusion with my ramblings. I do not know how long to boil eggs. I can cook a supple, sweet honey smoked bbq pineapple bacon Turkey until it just melts like butter off the top of my head. But not boiled eggs. No biggie, right? Just ask someone without that brain issue to remind me how long. (this was before I was googling things because that was not allowed due to "it costing money" on an unlimited land line & data unlimited cell service. The fog & fear were as thick as pea soup) Of course not, this is Kirby we are talking about. She would ridicule me, get mad at me, mock me, you name it. Only when no one else was around. & some form of boiled eggs were always on the list.
So after putting me through the ringer she would hack up her flecks of common knowledge graciously depart upon me her egg wisdom. The thing was they were always hard to peel. I thought it was normal. They also always had a green layer on the yolk. Also normal. Or so she said. I boiled eggs for yesterday for the first time in a year. Googled a time. 15 mins. Did as instructed. Eggs pop out like a greased pig. No green layer. I think they are raw so back to Google. Miss knowledgable Kirby was having me overcook them every single time. My entire 26 years. Folks. She. Had. Me. Burning. Boiled. Eggs. Her one & only "one up" on me was fricken burned eggs!!! Roflmbo!! I giggled so much while cooking & laughed my ass off when I told hubs. His answer was a short then an eye sparkling yummy when he ate one. XD
● Those who are familiar with Kirby know I was her caretaker by... no choice of my own. Take care of my dad after his heart attack h win a Kirby... yay... Thing with her was 99% of her illness was because she kept shoving sugar & calories down her sound hole to such a degree she could have used a snow shovel. (I am fat, was 336+ dropped to under 300 in the last year-ish. I rarely eat more than 2 meals a day, no dessert, no snacks, no soda, no drinks over 100 cals. Stress & PCOS, ladies & germs. Stress & PCOS. So I am not "fat" shaming just... food vortex shaming.) & refused to take her meds. She shat as she walked, pissed as she walked, refused undies, constantly vomited, left blood everywhere, fell down & went "squelch" as she did. Just... gross-a-roma. But she would do stuff to make herself worse.
So for the last 3 years we have had no Holidays. At all. None. We would give gifts. But no trees, no Turkey, no egg painting, no fireworks (at home or event), no sparkle virgin apple fake wine stuff, not a thing. She would always fake some emergency & our plans would go buh-bye. The people in my home are adult shaped little kids. We hide Easter eggs for each other as grown ass adults with no little ones. We have an entire shed devoted to Holiday decorations. But we have been scrooges for 3 whole fricken years because Kirby would fake an emergency whenever we got together to decorate!!
Year before last we bought like $20 worth of grocery store fireworks for new years. Hubs' family had a tradition of always setting off fireworks & it was the first time we managed to get the time to buy some. So we had to hide them from Kirby because we knew she would start some medical emergency. We snuck them outside, asked my dad if he wanted to see them too. He was sick from BS Kirby had pulled earlier that day so he just wanted to sleep. So the three younger residents of the home went outside to set them off but our lighter was dead. My bro ran back inside to grab our backup & somehow Kirby had found out what we were doing. (My dad mumbles when he is sick & gets... confused hence me still being his caretaker. So he may have accidentally blurted it out) She screams at my brother who darts away to us, fills us in, & our souls get rained on so much we do not enjoy the first taste of fireworks we had in years. Then we went in & got screamed at about "Why didn't you ask meeeeeee?! I would have wanted to seeeeeee!!! How can you ignore meeeeeeeee?!!!" For the next 2 days.
● She always made everything about her. If she wanted a nap no one could eat, if she was awake everyone had to eat then. If you dared to wear something other than night clothes you were mocked endlessly. It.... well.... it was awful.
So she is gone. We had no decoration because we are all still recovering from the mental & emotional vacuum that is our minds. All in our nighttime clothes while in front of the tv. But we had a full lunch!! On time!! In front of Christmas shows!! All at once!! With an out loud & holding hands Prayer!!! Everything was delicious & classic!! We had fake wine/champagne/whatever-it-is for the boys & fruit punch for anything-carbinated-tastes-like-pennies-because-of-my-meds me!! Tons of nummy leftovers!! No stress!!! Then we all took naps!!! It was amazing!!
November 26 2018
(Justno / Narc Mom) Kirby & "That Isn't A Heartwarming Memory, In Fact It Is Pretty Morbid."
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(Justno / Narc Mom) Kirby & "That Isn't A Heartwarming Memory, In Fact It Is Pretty Morbid."
[This is cross-posted to a couple support groups.]
Kirby (mid 50's) ODed June 2018, she is no longer tormenting me. She followed when me, hub’s, & bro moved out for the first time because the family home was foreclosed on. (her fault) We could not get her evicted or put in an institution due to her spinning a legal web that could have ended up with Adult Protective Services wrongfully going after me. (Not that we could not have 100% without a problem cleared it up, but it would have taken time & we may be looking into adopting someday so I need no stains on my record. Even ones that get officially & legally bleached.) We were vetting an elder law lawyer for my dad's divorce, her eviction, & a restraining order only two weeks before she tried to kill me via pressing her weight into my throat & then subsequently overdosing within 36 hours. So after a lifetime under her roof & four years under mine I am free from her mental, verbal, covert sexual, medical, & physical abuse. If you want to read the backstory my chronology of posts is pinned to the top of my profile.
I want to say thank you for all the kind comments & for the support. I really appreciate it, you guys gave me so much hope through all this & the offers of continued support makes me feel all fuzzy inside & very grateful. Y'all pulled me out of the FOG that Hubs had thinned.
So I am not gonna put a TL:DR on this one because it is not so much a linear retelling as a blurb of word/memory vomit.
Last night hubs & I cut into the taste platter thing of summer sausages & cheeses that we got. Another one of our new Thanksgiving & Christmas traditions we wanna start.
Anyway. I was getting ready to slice the sausage & remembered I still have an antique slicer. I grabbed it & I was struck by a memory of when I was a preteen. I told it to hubs, kinda laughing. But he looked utterly horrified. I stopped smiling and said: "It was actually pretty f@cking messed up, wasn't it?" He yep-ed & said it was all over now. What was the story reddit peeps? Read below.
In my last post I talked about how Kirby never did Thanksgiving growing up (my great grandmother did) or after they followed us then moved away (she made 11/12 year old me do it with maybe like once doing it herself & twice helping from then till she made us stop having Holidays around 2015). She also demanded that I cook the menu she came up even when it was gross or something I had never made before.
Well for 3-4 years she had an account with swiss colony. (fun note, you can actually have swiss colony collections go after you, did any of y'all even know that was possible without having their credit card if they even have one) So she would spend $300+ maybe even $500 plus. (I was under 15 then so I was not allowed to deal with money even though I was forced to work her "shops" instead of her since I was 11 & was not allowed to keep the money I earned)
Sausage & cheese platters were high on the list & the only thing the rest of us were really allowed to eat. We could get the chocolates she hated & the pretzels after they were old & soggy but none of the $50 cakes she got or the other sweets.
So I was supposed to pre slice the cheese & sausage for Christmas to go with the meal as a barely in double digits kid. She would not buy a new slicer, the safe kind. She demanded I use the metal, creaking one that looked like a medieval torture device & was prone to slip back down if you went too fast & could slice to the bone quicker than you could realize. And I had like 4-6 of the big rolls of meat & the same amount of cheese I had to slice myself while pre cooking the meal. After it was all said & done it would fill a Tupperware cake holder made for the 2 layer cakes. Not to mention the raw potatoes & sweet potatoes & carrots I had to do with the self same torture device.
So I would do ingredients first & then the meats + cheeses. It was always dark when I got to them (during this time my dad was working a four hour drive away & got back on Christmas eve so Christmas eve eve was the pre cooking day) everyone in the house would be asleep.
But I had to get the meat & cheese done that day. I had to I was not allowed to fail in this or the wailing would begin if I even mentioned putting it off. Never refused to do it so no idea what would have actually happened but my imagination was good & Kirby was scary.
So I was cutting that particular year & I wanna say she was awake but in her room & my baby brother asleep. I sliced myself on the medieval torture device. Bad. I had to grab a slice of my fingertip out of the gap. But I was not allowed to stop.
I couldn't even get a bandage because Kirby refused to buy them. She had bought a bulk on sale box when I was 6-8 & made us use them even though they were so old they didn't stick anymore. Whenever I tried to buy new ones or asked for them she would start yelling that we had plenty.
So can't stop. No bandages. I continued cutting while my blood flowed over everything like water. I made sure to rinse everything good after I was finally done & I held an ice cube to my hand until the bleeding stopped.
I told my dad I got cut & he wasn't happy (with Kirby not me), but looking back I think he thought I meant a normal little paper cut like cut. Swiss colony stopped either the next year or the year after that.
I was laughing telling my husband that. "Oh, clumsy Twink" always hurting herself, hahaa" But.... that is not normal. At all. I would be horrified & gut sick & crying if my someday child ever felt that pressure, ever got hurt like that.
But it was normal for me. Even now I will be doing physical work & slice, smash, bruise, cut, twist various parts of me but keep going until the job is done. Doesn't matter if the thing I am working on looks like a prop in Friday the 13th, I can always wash it off, my dripping blood will soak into the ground. I will take care of myself when I am done. I am working on that & much better now though.
Another thing was we were never allowed to take breaks. Ever. She would have a 10 year old & a 6 year old in the [Hade's armpit state] summer from sun up til down while she sat on her blubbery ass demanding we drag pots that could be as big as us & weigh twice as much. My brother got spared a lot & I do not begrudge him for a second. In fact I went out of my way to save him.
But not me. No. Never me. "Yard work" 2-3 days a week (replanting trees, ripping out plants, putting down new, laying brick + concrete, moving 100s upon 100s of bags of bark, painting in the rain, ridiculously stupid labor). Then flea market 2-4 days a week selling by myself with my dad there to load & unload + protect me, though somedays it was just her & she would shop all day leaving me to work & load alone watching my brother. That left 1-2 days only some weeks to do my homeschooling & the housework. The rest of the time I had to cram it into the mornings before yard work & the nights after. The yard work petered off after I turned 14, so then it was just flea market, housework homeschooling my brother + myself, but then Ebay joined the ranks.
I grew up with no time to... be me. To relax. I learned to draw in 5 minutes so I even could. I was allowed to relax when she demanded we watch whatever show she liked but that was it. So I stayed up late to write or watch what I wanted or to play games. During all this she slept & shopped & ate & watched TV & slept some more.
If I wanted to rest or take a break I had to hide in the bathroom "pottying". But I could not sit in the tub or anything. I had to be pants down on the toilet because she would burst in to... I have no idea why she did it but she did. It wasn't the main bathroom, it was a small bathroom off of my room only accessible via my room. (My beautiful dad knew a growing girl needed her bathroom privacy & he battled Kirby to get me that room) So she would just step into this tiny but private bathroom.
A pocket door that was broken so a camper acordian door was there instead, the toilet crammed with 4" to spare between the wall & counter. The floorspace only as wide as the doorway then a rather large walk in shower directly opposite the toilet. Kirby would come in & take up the 2'x3' space not taken by my legs h just..... stand over me. If she ever found me sitting in the shower (my safe zone) I would get reamed up one side & down the other. Naked or not. If I was sitting I was in trouble.
That sure went into left fieldn Twink.
Anyway, back to yesterday. I also told my hubs one I knew was messed up.
At my childhood home, the one that was foreclosed on four years ago because Kirby does not think her highness needs to pay bills, we had a sunroom on the back. Big, yucky, thing older then I was that needed torn down & replaced. Leaked, was full of mold, could not be patched up, actual mold between the double paned glass, awful. She made my little brother live in it once. One of the time he went 180° from GC to fellow scapegoat then back again.
It had a bare concrete floor with sticky tile from the late 80's on it. Stuck like it was welded but discolored scratched & ugly. Kirby decides it needs to be pulled up. But Kirby never pays anyone to do something, she has her husband or daughter do it. Her goats have to pull their own ya know /s.
So dad was out of town for work again so it was my job. Kirby had no idea how to get tile up, had never done it & did no research on it. I was about 13 or so. So she does not buy dissolvent glue, eye protection, a scrapper blade, work gloves, a canvas dumpster, a shop vac, knee pads etc. Nothing. Instead she hands me a little plastic spatula scraper like for cleaning paint off of smooth surfaces. (my dad used them to scrap puke & worse off of carpets) Tells me to get to work.
I swear to the golden keyboard I am not making this up or living some Cinderella fantasy in some lock-up in the backwoods. This is 100g truth.
She sent me out there to scrape up the well secured tile in a 20'x12+' sunroom. With a plastic paint spatula thing (I give it credit for being the sturdiest plastic tool I have ever held) in my hand, in my tattered night gown (I also didn't get new clothes but was bought thrift store clothes that I could not get torn up), no eye protection or gloves.
I got about 3 tiles up before a sliver of this ceramic like tile shot under my thumb nail & sliced my nail away from the bed deep inside. I was quick enough to pull back before it could get stuck or take off the nail. Blood spewed out of my hand like a cheesy 80's movie prop.
And my brother was there. Picking up the pieces as I went to help me. (Offered himself not required by Kirby God Bless his baby heart) He flipped out like only a 9 year old can. Lots of "Sissy!!!"s were screamed. Kirby never came though she had to have heard it if she was awake. But the chances were she was high & asleep since it was midday.
I told my bro I was okay, it was okay. I told him to go play his game, that I had this. So with my blood coating everything like a lubricant I got a third of that MFer up with that champ plastic vomit spatula before it was too dark to see. (There were no lights in the sunroom either)
I told my dad when he got home the next day that I could not do it. It was probably the first time I had bit the bullet & chose defeat over pain & damage. He was mad. I am sure he saw the blood stains I couldn't get out. I have no idea what happened with that but I never had to work on the sunroom again. It stayed half covered with slivered tile until the foreclosure 4 years ago.
I think I scare my husband sometimes. He went through a terrifyingly similar childhood abuse wise if not context wise. But he has blocked most of it out for his own sanity. He just kept repeating it was over, it was never happening again. I did not need to be scared again.
P.S. for those who are probably going to try & hate on my dad. Kirby came from old money & my dad came from nothing. Kirby's bio mom had this weird orgy things with the town lawyers. Other family knew the judges.
He was threatened with the "I will leave you, take every cent you own, & take your precious kids from you!" All the time. Kirby would just get in the van & leave, no knowing where she was or when she would come back. (She threatened to do that after she moved in with us after about a year, was legally blind & no feeling below her knees. My dad put the van in my hubs name to prevent her from "stealing" it & causing us major trouble.)
This was back in the 90s when a man was not likely to win custody even without nepotism & hanky panky ties stacked against him. Plus he worked construction & was gone for weeks if not months at a time more often then not & even though it was crazy good money that would be a major tick against him.
Right when my brother hit legal adult age & it was safe my father had his heart attack. Several things happened at once & maybe even a mini stroke. He was an oxygen masked vegetable for nearly two years, getting better the third, then coming to terms with divorce the fourth. We had contacted a divorce/elder law lawyer less than 2 weeks before Kirby tried to kill me then ODed.
Submitted February 20, 2019 at 11:59PM by Twinkie_Face_1991 https://ift.tt/2GG4JF5
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