I don't post much at all - I'm a very introverted person and I have spent a good portion of my life convinced that no one cares what I have to say, anyway. However, I have lurked on this site for a couple of years now, and I have been very impressed by the compassion and caring that I've seen in that time. This post will probably ramble a lot, but I just need to vent, I guess.
I live in Tennessee, but I am from Virginia. My husband and I moved down here 5 years ago to make a fresh start after I lost my manager job due to internal politics and ass-kissing. His mother lives down here, on land that he paid for by working his ass off through his teens and early twenties, only to leave it behind when he moved to VA to marry me. He signed the land over to his mother when he left, and she said that if we moved back down to stay with her, we would be able to get back on our feet. We'd be rent-free, and just help her with the utilities, and she had two running vehicles (we had been without a car for a couple of months in VA), so we would be able to work and save money and just help her out. So, we packed up and moved, leaving my family behind.
So, we got down here and discovered that things would not be as discussed. She only had one working vehicle, and she expected $400 a month for "having to put up with us intruding in her home," plus us paying half of the utilities. She also didn't want us to use her one working car more than absolutely necessary - which made life a little difficult when we lived 20 miles from town. We were responsible for putting gas in it, and if anything went wrong with it, we were "driving it into the ground." She kicked us out half a dozen times over the next year (including one time that we walked 5 miles to his sister's house, only to be told we could spend the night and then she'd help us find a homeless shelter) before we finally managed to get our own apartment. In the course of that year, we had barely saved enough for the first month's rent, while she had managed to buy a used car...which she then bullied us into buying from her (making payments) so she could buy something she liked better. I'm not even going to go into the extensive mental abuse she inflicted, mainly on my husband, in the time we were there. The woman is not stable. We had to stay with her again for a few months two years ago, and the last confrontation ended with her swinging an axe at my husband.
Anyway, we have now been down here for 5 years. Both of us want to go back to Virginia - I miss my home and my family, and he misses the state that actually felt like home and the family that accepted him simply for loving me. We are once again without a vehicle (transmission failed in the car we bought). I work full time, but my husband is not in good health and has not worked since March. I haven't been able to get back to VA to visit my family, and my mother and I were very close before I left. The last time I talked to her (the day of the VA earthquake), I learned that my grandparents were in poor health, as well. Last Saturday, I got a call from work (it was my day off) telling me that my brother had tried to call me there. My brother hasn't spoken to me in about 6 months, so I was very concerned. I tried his house, but the number was no longer valid, so I tried my grandparents' house, as my mother has been living with them as a caregiver for over a year. One of my aunts answered. My grandfather had died early that morning.
I loved my grandfather. He could be a very difficult man to understand, but he showed his love in the little things - ongoing jokes, making sure each grandchild got something small especially from him on Christmas, an unexpected gift of money when my husband and I first started out and he knew we were struggling. I hadn't seen him in 5 years, and I don't remember the last time I spoke to him on the phone - he was never one for long phone conversations. He didn't get very far in school, but he was always learning new things, challenging himself. The strangest memories have popped into my mind over the last few days - the way he called cookies 'n cream "that old dirty ice cream" because he said it looked like it had been scooped up off the floor; how he would sit there at Christmas with his bowl of nuts and a nutcracker; the fact that I don't think he ever learned how to spell my first name correctly.
I spent Saturday sobbing off and on. My MiL called once, while I was relatively calm, ranting about something trivial and barely letting me get a word in about anything. I didn't tell here about it then, and I didn't tell her the next day, when she called as I was on my way out the door to walk to work. She found out Monday by reading my husband's post on FB, then called him to rant about how her children were all inconsiderate and hateful. Why on earth should I have made it a priority to tell her about my loss? She never cared about my family, unless she thought they could help us (well, her) financially.
I started my week vacation today (Thursday). Too late to attend my grandfather's burial or memorial service. I scoured travel options the past few days, trying to find a way to get home just for a little while, but we didn't have the money, transportation, or connections to make anything work, even if I went on my own and my husband stayed here with our three pugs. I feel so trapped. I hate my job, and I hate this town. I want to go home. I don't want to lose my grandmother without ever seeing her again, and I would seriously have a nervous breakdown if something happened to my mother and I couldn't be there. My brother is there, and my two not-so-little nieces. There is nothing here for us but a bitter, selfish, hateful woman who can't see beyond her own needs and wants. The only guilt I would feel would be that once she's gone, I know neither of her daughters would care about her dogs the way we would (she has pugs, too, and we helped raise one of them). To clarify, my husband feels the same way I do. If we had trustworthy leads on housing and jobs, we'd be packing this second.
At least I have the next few days to try and get myself back together - it's difficult to run a shift, even a slow one, when you really want to just lock yourself in the office and cry.
I live in Tennessee, but I am from Virginia. My husband and I moved down here 5 years ago to make a fresh start after I lost my manager job due to internal politics and ass-kissing. His mother lives down here, on land that he paid for by working his ass off through his teens and early twenties, only to leave it behind when he moved to VA to marry me. He signed the land over to his mother when he left, and she said that if we moved back down to stay with her, we would be able to get back on our feet. We'd be rent-free, and just help her with the utilities, and she had two running vehicles (we had been without a car for a couple of months in VA), so we would be able to work and save money and just help her out. So, we packed up and moved, leaving my family behind.
So, we got down here and discovered that things would not be as discussed. She only had one working vehicle, and she expected $400 a month for "having to put up with us intruding in her home," plus us paying half of the utilities. She also didn't want us to use her one working car more than absolutely necessary - which made life a little difficult when we lived 20 miles from town. We were responsible for putting gas in it, and if anything went wrong with it, we were "driving it into the ground." She kicked us out half a dozen times over the next year (including one time that we walked 5 miles to his sister's house, only to be told we could spend the night and then she'd help us find a homeless shelter) before we finally managed to get our own apartment. In the course of that year, we had barely saved enough for the first month's rent, while she had managed to buy a used car...which she then bullied us into buying from her (making payments) so she could buy something she liked better. I'm not even going to go into the extensive mental abuse she inflicted, mainly on my husband, in the time we were there. The woman is not stable. We had to stay with her again for a few months two years ago, and the last confrontation ended with her swinging an axe at my husband.
Anyway, we have now been down here for 5 years. Both of us want to go back to Virginia - I miss my home and my family, and he misses the state that actually felt like home and the family that accepted him simply for loving me. We are once again without a vehicle (transmission failed in the car we bought). I work full time, but my husband is not in good health and has not worked since March. I haven't been able to get back to VA to visit my family, and my mother and I were very close before I left. The last time I talked to her (the day of the VA earthquake), I learned that my grandparents were in poor health, as well. Last Saturday, I got a call from work (it was my day off) telling me that my brother had tried to call me there. My brother hasn't spoken to me in about 6 months, so I was very concerned. I tried his house, but the number was no longer valid, so I tried my grandparents' house, as my mother has been living with them as a caregiver for over a year. One of my aunts answered. My grandfather had died early that morning.
I loved my grandfather. He could be a very difficult man to understand, but he showed his love in the little things - ongoing jokes, making sure each grandchild got something small especially from him on Christmas, an unexpected gift of money when my husband and I first started out and he knew we were struggling. I hadn't seen him in 5 years, and I don't remember the last time I spoke to him on the phone - he was never one for long phone conversations. He didn't get very far in school, but he was always learning new things, challenging himself. The strangest memories have popped into my mind over the last few days - the way he called cookies 'n cream "that old dirty ice cream" because he said it looked like it had been scooped up off the floor; how he would sit there at Christmas with his bowl of nuts and a nutcracker; the fact that I don't think he ever learned how to spell my first name correctly.
I spent Saturday sobbing off and on. My MiL called once, while I was relatively calm, ranting about something trivial and barely letting me get a word in about anything. I didn't tell here about it then, and I didn't tell her the next day, when she called as I was on my way out the door to walk to work. She found out Monday by reading my husband's post on FB, then called him to rant about how her children were all inconsiderate and hateful. Why on earth should I have made it a priority to tell her about my loss? She never cared about my family, unless she thought they could help us (well, her) financially.
I started my week vacation today (Thursday). Too late to attend my grandfather's burial or memorial service. I scoured travel options the past few days, trying to find a way to get home just for a little while, but we didn't have the money, transportation, or connections to make anything work, even if I went on my own and my husband stayed here with our three pugs. I feel so trapped. I hate my job, and I hate this town. I want to go home. I don't want to lose my grandmother without ever seeing her again, and I would seriously have a nervous breakdown if something happened to my mother and I couldn't be there. My brother is there, and my two not-so-little nieces. There is nothing here for us but a bitter, selfish, hateful woman who can't see beyond her own needs and wants. The only guilt I would feel would be that once she's gone, I know neither of her daughters would care about her dogs the way we would (she has pugs, too, and we helped raise one of them). To clarify, my husband feels the same way I do. If we had trustworthy leads on housing and jobs, we'd be packing this second.
At least I have the next few days to try and get myself back together - it's difficult to run a shift, even a slow one, when you really want to just lock yourself in the office and cry.
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