(foreword … continued from part two)
… One thing I neglected to mention earlier, was that my mother had come into money after my Grandpa died, as well as my Dad. My Grandpa had married a wealthy woman and all their money was being left to my Dad and to me. I was in my early thirties when Grandpa died. My mother had talked Grandpa into leaving the money that he was going to leave me, to her instead. She told him she didn’t trust me and that I was on drugs ~ which I was not, not at that time. He was in the beginnings of dementia so he wasn’t seeing her deceit. Bless his heart, he did what she requested and left it all to her. Three hundred thousand dollars is what he’d left to her, believing her promise to give it to me a little at a time when I needed it until I was 21. My two favorite aunt’s both told me the year after it happened, because I had no idea my Grandpa had any money to leave anyone. That was a big surprise to me. No one ever told me anything.
(part three … of three)
… Since I had been on the streets, I’d heard through the grapevine, that a girl I met while out there, needed help to get away from a violent boyfriend. Of course, I wanted to help, so I let her stay with me and my son while she decided her next course of action.
A few days before she came to stay, my settlement came through, and I picked it up from the lawyers office. I didn’t put it in the bank because I was going to spend it all on my cousins double wide trailer I was buying. So I hid it under my box springs, under my queen sized mattress. It was the older box springs that had little stair steps under the inside of them. I put the money that was in a bank bag, between those stair steps.
I had relapsed yet again a couple weeks before, for the fifth time and that pull it had, was definitely pulling me. I had a friend find me a dealer that would deliver to my house so I was not out on the roads. I wanted to be left alone so I smoked it most all by myself. My son was able to buy himself some cool new school clothes and other things he’d wanted. I was not so caught up that I wanted to spend all my money on drugs while during the times before, I didn’t care if I did or not.
My son had lived me through my entire addiction, and he knew what I was doing even before I realized it and trying to hide it. There would no hiding the fact that I was high on crack, because a drug like that is easily recognized once that pipe is hit.
My son knew but loved me anyway. To this day, I tell him he is my hero because he is the ONLY reason i didn’t seriously consider taking my life back then. I never seriously considered that in my life but it gave me an insight to how people could be in a certain place emotionally and would be able to do something like that to themselves. My son saved me from suicide and from relapsing again on COCAINE. He is my true hero forever. God gave me the best son ever, and I waved him to have all he ever dreamed. Especially since I was the cause of his dream being crushed.
It was a very scary and surreal realization. I thank God for my strong mind to this day or I never would have survived what I’d gone through back then. No one knows some of the horrors I endured but I had no one to blame but myself.
What had I done?
The girl I had promised to help and stay in our home was around for three days. The last day she was there, when she left with no word to either of us. She had taken my entire world with her and my son’s as well, only we weren’t aware of it at that time.
Nothing would ever be the same again, I was about to find out.
I recall vividly my son running into my room one morning, crying and mad because she had taken the money out of his billfold that he’d received from his Daddy. He had been saving up and he had 70$ but now it was gone, and so was she.
Once I realized the hard fact that they were both gone, a chill ran through my entire body.
Right then, in my gut, I knew that I had somehow messed up, by allowing this woman into my home for those few days. I ran to my hiding place, under the box springs and was horrified when I grabbed the money bag from where I had so carefully hidden it. The money, or dream house money, over 30,000.00 was gone!
In that instant my team cold and my heart sank, pounding in my ears and it made me feel as if I were going to pass out right there. I was more or less in shock. Why does this type of crap always happen to me when all I wanted to do was HELP someone out of a horrific situation I once been in myself. We were learning how cruel and mean people really were. Was everyone just a thief and only out for themselves?
I had just wanted to help her because I understood where she was at in her violent relationship. I thought people had the same heart as I did but this woman proved me dead wrong. Just because I helped her, that didn’t stop her from abusing me like so many others had done before her, including my parents. I figured it was just going to keep hairline to me but I wasn’t worried about me, it was my son’s crushed dreams I was over there top about!
I felt those old emotions and feelings come back. The ADHD symptoms weren’t as bad during my addiction because I’m guessing that the cocaine kept my feelings and emotions quite numb, so they didn’t appear as often when I was I using. I’m no professional, but it makes sense to me, that was what caused that to happen. It was all I could do to hold it together and to this day I don’t know how on earth I did.
I had to worry about my son at that point because he was so devastated that my heart broke into millions of pieces, watching and listening to him get angry, only for him to turn around and be crying for his loss. In my mind, I was his mother and I had neglected to protect him just as I was unable to protect my daughter years before.
I felt so utterly worthless and useless and just no damn good. I didn’t deserve to live as far as I concerned. I had to be the WORST mother than ever lived, why me and why my babies? I never tried to hurt anyone so why was everyone trying to hurt us? I was lost and no clue what to do or where to start.
I silently begged God to save my son from this pain, knowing that it was my fault that he was hurting and I was the one who deserved all the pain, not my baby boy.
Since I had no money after this cunning burglary, I could not pay rent, and two months later we were evicted from our home. During this time, my son had stayed several nights with one of his classmates.
I had nowhere for us to go. I was lost and confused, but I wasn’t doing crack anymore, so that was a plus.
Thankfully, a classmate of my son’s, told his mom what was going on and she came to me, offering my son a home until I could get back on my feet. Relief that God had answered my prayer hit me and I remember feeling so grateful for this angel of a woman, offering her family and home to help my baby.
God had already been working on my son’s behalf. I didn’t care about myself, I just was to be sure that he was going to be taken care of while my gut cringed up painfully, with the thought of being away from him. I cannot find the words to tell you how dark and alone I felt, not to mention what a worthless piece of crap I was for allowing this to happen to us.
So he now has a bonus mom and bonus brothers in his life. At that time I was so grateful that my son would not be homeless with me, I saw her as an angel God had given him. Although since then, she and I have had our differences but that didn’t really matter to me. She didn’t care for very much but all I cared about was that she loved my son. It wasn’t about me. What mattered most to me that she was helping my son and I was beyond thankful for them and for them accepting my baby boy into their life as “family”.
💜I tried harder than I ever tried before to get a job anywhere I could in my small hometown. Sadly, no one would consider hiring me because of my well known addiction problems. There was nobody that was willing to give me a chance. My son’s bonus mom seemed angry with me as time went on and I still had no job while in her mind, I should have been able to get a job regardless and that I couldn’t have been trying very hard. Would anyone ever believe in me again? Was I just meant to fall and hurt my children who I loved more than anything in this entire world?
I eventually had to move to the next town over, leaving my son to stay with his bonus family. I went the nearest homeless shelter because I was afraid if I stayed in my hometown, I would relapse once again. Above all else, I could NOT let that happen again. I had to show my strength for my son’s sake.
Years passed, and my son grew into a young man. I was never able to get any job steady anywhere, so we were probably never going to be able to live together as a family again. This was a sobering thought for me. I tried not to allow the guilt to harbor full force, but it took the reins anyway and did exactly that!
He stayed with that family that took him in when he had no other place to go until a few months ago. He is now planning on moving with his sister to Missouri to start a fresh life. Their Daddy passed a short time ago and they both need this fresh start. I’m gonna to miss him like crazy of course, but I wouldn’t hold him back for the world. He lost to much in his young life and I never wanted him to miss out on anything ever again. Especially, not because of me. He was better off without me I thought because all I seemed to do is hurt my kids. I could not fail this precious boy again.
My daughter has not spoken to me since 2015 nor has she let me see my grandkids. I don’t believe it had anything to do with the burglary situation but more to do with an online discussion we had on Instagram after I had moved to Longview, where I reside to this day. I’ve reached out to her countless times through email since she has me blocked on FB, only for me to receive a short response or no response at all. Well no response in being interested to get together and talk this out anyway. She is using the silent treatment on me and is very good at ignoring me. She sees me as someone who blamed others for my mistakes and that can’t be any further from the truth. She harbors a grudge longer than anyone I have ever known, except for her grandmother, my mother. She’s in contact with her of course and is my mother’s power of attorney.
There is a hole in my heart where her and the kids are supposed to be. I’m crushed because she refuses to acknowledge me anytime I ask her to talk this out with me, whatever the problem might be. Any correspondence I receive from her is vague and distant, short small talk if you will.
The problem is they I’m not sure why she’s not speaking to me. She hasn’t told me which leads me to believe believe she either doesn’t care or she’s waiting on me to figure out why by myself. I would just rather get together, hash it out and move on with our lives. What she’s doing now seems a lot like she’s playing games, making me sweat and paying me back.
She was speaking to me until 2015 and the only thing that happened after that was I was talking about my mother in a post that I had posted on FB, and she didn’t like that everyone could see it. Normally I’m not going to put it out there like that, but I had just been fed up that my mother always seemed to get by with everything and she would always make sure everyone knew I was the bad guy in her story, everytime.
Since I had been hooked on drugs and had mental issues earlier in my young adulthood, people believed anything she would say about me for the most part.
I’d had my fill, hence the post. All I can do is be here if she reaches back to me, and cry almost daily for the love of my little girl to come back. She’s grown into an amazing woman, and is an exceptional mother to two of my grandkids.
Lastly, my kids include one that I didn’t give birth to but she had my heart at the time. She was going through a lot in her young life and my heart broke for her. You could see the pain she was in but I felt so helpless to do anything. She wouldn’t allow me to. This other child, who I love dearly, is my bonus daughter. My son’s father’s daughter with his first wife. She has two girls that are precious and they are my bonus grandkids. She was 12 when I first met her and was quite the rebellious teen that had a bad attitude and acted out all time.
She didn’t like me at all from the beginning. I got frustrated with her from time to time but it was only because she didn’t listen to me. All I wanted to accomplish with her is that I wanted her to like me. She was my son’s sister and I wanted them to be close and I wanted a place in her life as well. It took years for us to become close to any degree, but she grew up from that rebellious young girl into a beautiful young woman that is an excellent mother, daughter and sister. They are my family. My son’s father’s entire family became my family, despite our rocky relationship and they are now the only family I have. My mother but to many years ago told me that I no longer had a family, they were her family, not mine. I was told to leave them alone, so I did. I’m referring to my mother’s side of the family. Not one of them ever tried to contact me after that, except one first cousin and her hubby that I still talk to regularly today.
I wish i could go back and change so many things but I can’t. It’s just so important for my kids to know exactly, how deeply I loved them back then and that I did my best with what I knew. I need them to know how much they mean to me and how much they mean to me now.
There’s an urgency inside of me, rushing me to let them know this. I pray one day that my daughter will forgive me and my prayer is that will happen before I leave this world. I’m at peace within myself and in the process of being at peace with God.
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