Sicily, 1922…
More like Fort Worth, 2045.
I’ll be holding my granddaughter, and they’ll have asked me
how I’d become homeless 21 years before.
And as the vapors of drama overtake me, I’ll begin to lay
out the scene:
It wasn’t any one thing that found me in dire straits in the
early winter of 2024, without a job, without a running vehicle (just a
non-running 1999 VW Passat in need of a clutch and a recently-deceased 2009
Buick Enclave in need of – hopefully just - time and TLC to get back on the
road), without any savings, and most importantly, without a home, without
sanity, and without the kids.
The last three are woven together. When I left our last
house, and found myself without a home (ding ding, player number 1) some
friends of our graciously invited me to stay for a while. As they were located
quite some distance from the kids’ school, however, the kids flip flopped and
began spending a majority of their time with their Dad and only just some time
over the weekend with me, depending on their other commitments. In a matter of under
a couple years, I went from having the kids constantly, when we lived in Westworth
and they went to Fort Worth schools, to them being in Birdville and me being
without my kids (ding ding, player number 2) in Reno and me having no idea of
when that would end of what I was going to do next.
Enter player number three, my sanity. Without a home and
without my kids left me without my sanity. I’ve never failed to maintain a home
in two and half decades. I’ve never spent this long or this much time without
my kids. I’ve never gone this long without a plan. I still don’t know who
Scientology picked to marry Tom Cruise next. I suspect only one of those “I’ve
never” statements concern an issue that will get boatloads of money thrown at
it, and as I have an amount of money equivalent to Enron after the attorneys,
it ain’t one of mine.
Being out of work for more than four years after becoming
disabled did not help. Working primarily in ride-share and delivery work after
returning from disability, as well as some freelance work online, while adding
funds to my account, was not helpful in looking for new housing
(self-employment is a pain in the patoot when it comes to houses and cars) and
as it turns out, convincing people to hire you after you’ve been down for 4+
years disabled and freelanced for 7 years before that, so your last time in an office
was 2012…well, that’s special, now isn’t it, punkin?
Health issues like month-long trigeminal neuralgia flares
and multi-day migraines and the constant nausea of gastroparesis wasn’t any help
either, not to forget mentioning my other fifty-seven gazillion other health
crappinesses.
By early February, it felt like not a single other thing
could go wrong. I used to be able to tell the kids “Because Mommy is…magic!” referring
to all manner of things from repairing broken toys to fixing an electronic to
making just super perfecto exactamundo what they wanted to eat/drink/wear/dunk
my head in, to any number of other things. By then, I couldn’t have sewn on a
button if it had come off my shirt, something I’ve known how to do for 35 or
more years.
So, when I found out my friends’ parents (in-laws) were
having to move in out of necessity, and read between the lines that I would
have to move out, the last straw in my brain broke. Now what?
Well, now what I was imagining was true rugged on-the-streets
homelessness and imagining how horrifying and embarrassing that would be to my
children, to whom I am already a source of embarrassment.
And so, I decided to choose what was behind Door #2.
My daughter clued into my mood and had me call my friend, a
psychiatric nurse. That friend called an ambulance for me.
After that, I was off to the ER. After an iPad consult, I
was off to Mayhill Psychiatric Hospital. After a few weeks there, I returned
ever too briefly to my friend’s house before heading from far west of where the
kids are living with Chris in North Richland Hills to far east to Greenville,
Texas, which will be home to one of the longest times of totality in the DFW
area for April’s eclipse. So ya know.
GOD I need ADHD medicine.
And snapping back to the present...
I’m staying with my roommate from Mayhill, who lives with her
adult son. They’ve been great to me.
My possessions are in two storage units in North Richland
Hills. My cars are in a store parking lot near the storage units – don’t ask. One
of my dogs and both cats are with my friend in Reno. My kids are with their Dad,
and my little dog is here with me. I’m writing a ton of lists, trying to stay
sane and busy and job hunt and figure out how to pay to tow the cars and keep
the storage units and, ever so occasionally, eat.
In six months’ time, I expect to have conquered the world. For right now, I’ve a far mountain to ascend.
A hope there's a few shady pines.
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