Remind Me to Think Before I Speak

Thanks everyone for all your much-needed support yesterday.  I was feeling  angry, yes, but  after my rant yesterday, I think you all deserve a bit of an explanation.  Firstly, let  me say that lack of sleep can do that to you.  Having spent the last few nights lying awake with all sorts of thoughts rattling through my head, I was totally at the boiling point.   The city is an awful place to live.  Unlike the countryside where you can put things by the curb or take them to the dump, one is forced to be totally dependent on sanitation which makes tossing your garbage a stress inducing chore.  Anyone remember the fiasco I had trying to toss an old mattress?  Well, it's tenfold now with all the things I have to get rid of. 


They make things so difficult. I'm sure glad I'm no longer a smoker because I would have gone through a carton by now. Take Tuesday's pickup for example.  I put out my old ironing board and my typewriter, hoping that someone would take one of the two, but it rained, so it was up to sanitation to take them.  Did they?  Nope!!!  They left them lying there on the sidewalk.  Friday is their pick up day for that stuff.  It's the same truck that they use at our Friday pickup, so go figure.  That's where I messed up with my counting of days.  I had it figured that each pickup day I would put a few more things out, and by the time we moved, all the unneeded items would be gone.  


There is no dump in the area, and the cheapest place I found to haul household items will run $380 that I just don't have.   That knocked me for a loop, and that is when everything started spiraling downhill for me. I mean, I just paid four months of rent...one month here, one month rent, one month security to the new place, and one month rent to real estate.  (What a racket!)   I really didn't mean to give  everyone  the impression that my son is a spoiled brat, and sorry it came out that way.  Yes, he did screw up with the garbage, and yes, he is behind in his packing, and it did make me angry when I had to go out there and clean up the mess, but I realized after I saw your responses that I made him out to be a monster. But, to be fair,  up until this point, he has been extremely helpful, running errands, doing chores, paying my bills, etc.  

He'd been out of the house for several years, living with his ex, when they announced they were going to have a baby.  But, she was quite the 'mama's girl', and mama wasn't ready to become a grandmother so she told her daughter to 'get rid of it', and the daughter did despite what my son or myself wanted.  I was so surprised that they even did an abortion at the stage; they baby was already moving.  My son was devastated and tried to make a go of it, but that was too much for him to bear so they broke up.  My grandson would have been nine years old.  


He then moved back into the city and was on his own for several years when there was a fire in his building, and he lost everything.  He asked if he could stay here until he was back on his feet, and I do believe he would have moved out a long time ago, had I not made him feel that I didn't want him to go, and in all honesty, I guess I didn't.   I have become somewhat, no, a lot spoiled having someone ready to run to the store for me every time I got the urge for something, or having someone to do my laundry every week and save me the hours I used to spend in that tortuous laundromat.  The extra money he paid me to live here also helped, especially back during that period when they were garnishing my salary for something that my ex had done. 


I guess what I am trying to say is that I never really pushed him out, preferring to keep things at the status quo. Not making excuses for him, but as the first born,  he was always my ex's favorite, so during his youth,  my ex made some threats against my life and took my son to live with him.  I missed out on those teen-age years, and I guess having him here was my way of making up for that lost time.  I made it too easy for him.

I also realize that all of you are probably wondering why hubby would run off and take his son for a haircut in the midst of all this.  I don't believe I have ever mentioned here that he suffers from schizophrenia. He was a normal child until he hit 18, and then, just like his mom and grandmother, the signs of the illness began to show. I work with mentally ill clients, and I sadly, I have to say his case is one of the worst I have ever seen. Even on medication, his baseline is low, and he will never be able to live a normal life. He has played around with his medication so much so that nothing really seems to work very well for him. He lives in supportive housing, but even they have a hard time getting him to take care of himself. His calling to go for a haircut is actually a big thing because most of the time he lets hygiene go totally, to the point where he actually smells.  I usually try to be more understanding, but yesterday I really needed the help.

Last night after dinner, we all got together and talked.  I laid out my fears and advised what I needed to be done. But, even getting one of my son's friends with a truck would be useless, because where would the garbage go? So, my son and his friend will be making a number of trips during Monday and Tuesday night with the car.  He stated they will break up the love seat if need be.  And that gives me another worry.  The only way they can get rid of this stuff is to go around to the different dumpsters and toss the stuff.  Problem there is, if caught, they could be arrested.  This is just so darned ridiculous, but a problem that will be avoided once I live in a building.  These issues only happen with private homes.  In a building, it becomes a super's worry.  


So, later on Sunday, hubby and son will be  loading up the car with some of the boxes, clothing from the closets, etc. to make some room around here for me to work.  I think that is what I found to be another  overwhelming part of it...having more things to pack, but no place to put them.   I'm just going to be glad when this is all over, and my life goes back to normal. 


Thank you all for being here and lending your support, and I do hope none of you think I've gone off my rocker.  Sometimes just knowing someone is there for you means the difference between a total breakdown or constructive communication.