Life with no jobs and multiple disabilities is difficult enough. But to add insult to injury, our apartment complex has decided to raise our rental price over $100, should we decide to renew our lease. Well this apartment is falling apart. The doors leak when it rains, there is no bathroom downstairs, the kitchen has no counter space, and there's really just not the right kind of room for our needs. So we put in our notice to leave. We really weren't left with much of a choice - my grandparents are paying the rent right now, and it's not fair to raise the rent on them. I made the mistake of touring a rental house on Sunday that is just barely outside our budget. It really is the PERFECT place. It's a 3 bedroom, 1 bath home with a nice kitchen, plenty of storage, fabulous hardwood floors, a great yard for the dog, and lots of potential to be our first real home. But how on Earth are we going to convince the landlord to pick us as tenants when we have no income? My grandfather is going to have to at least co-sign on a lease because there is no way that our lives are going to magically get 200% better before the end of April.
Some days are much worse than others. I backslid on my diet horribly yesterday and today. I ate so many things I was allergic to, just because I couldn't bring myself to get anything done. It's a very depressing situation at home right now, and I'm having trouble believing that things are going to get better anytime soon. The people who can afford to help us are the ones who haven't once called or texted to see how we are. Of course, I could call them. But for the past 15 years, that side of my family has had the belief that phone calls are a two-way street, but never treated them as such. Why should I always be expected to make contact, when their fingers aren't broken? The hubby's mother attempted to use the line 'You changed your phone number so I didn't know how to get a hold of you' once, and I let her have it. We've had the same numbers since 2010. It's 2012 now, bitch. You know the number. My grandfather forwarded an email I sent him a couple of months ago regarding my thoughts on suicide to my father. Have I received a text or call? Nope. Of course, this is the same father that when I decided to cut myself in high school said if I ever did it again, he'd have no choice but to take me to a psychologist. The first time wasn't enough, so I'd have to do it again? Let's ignore the fact that I'd attempted several times before the cutting, and nothing was ever done. I've grown up a lot since then, and know suicide isn't the answer, but wouldn't it be nice to know that someone in the family cares enough to worry about suicidal comments?
Things were starting to look up last week, before we got the notice about the rental increase. I was eating better, losing weight, and really trying to stay positive. But like I've said for years - Murphy's law really should be changed to Lynne's Law - because everything that could go wrong for me has, and continues to.
And what makes this even worse? I'm afraid that something may be very wrong with the hubby. Whenever he goes out to do something, he always comes back with these fantastical stories about run-ins with cops, rude drivers, etc. I've always been curious about all the stories, because these crazy things NEVER happen when I'm around. Every once in a while I'll hear something that contradicts what he has said, or find someone associated with a story that cannot corroborate it. I'm deathly afraid that he is blacking out and his mind is making up these stories. If so, what is he doing when this happens? Does it cause potential problems when driving? Could he black out and drive into oncoming traffic? I honestly have no idea where to turn with this situation. My mom understands and shares my concern, but what are we to do? He's been like this since I met him - but his family is so full of crap that I wouldn't know who to believe if they gave me conflicting stories. I've expressed my concern with the hubby and he seems genuinely concerned about how it is affecting me, but not so much how it affects him. At one point I just thought he was doing a lot of daydreaming - he'd honestly believe that he had completed housework only to realize later that nothing had been done. We tried some methods to help him remember to do things, like post-it notes on the door and such. Those worked while I was working. When I stopped working and was home all the time, all the concerns went away because I was with him and could see when he was or wasn't getting something done. Then the stories about what happened while he ran errands started showing up, and the problem has begun all over again. As a pessemist, all I can think about are the bad things this might be. Does he have multiple personality disorder? Maybe a tumor? Is he hiding abuse in the past? I just don't know, and don't have any clue as to how to explain this to a doctor - let alone know what kind of doctor to take him to.
I'm looking forward to Friday evening- I'm going to the symphony with my mom for my birthday, and for a couple of hours I can forget everything and enjoy the music. Hopefully the world won't fall apart while I'm there.