I’ve decided that I’m not going to keep GIVING to this situation. I keep feeling bad that Jerry is running out of money and Mike isn’t helping with expenses, etc so I was helping him out with additional bills ON TOP of the bills I already pay. Well, all that gets me is BROKE. I spent more last month than I make. And I said NO MORE. If he can’t step up and tell Michael that he needs to contribute then I have no reason to feel guilty and no reason to put myself out. Especially since Michael takes every opportunity he can find to run me down and verbally abuse me and trash me to everyone who will listen. I’m over it. I’m done. Fuck this. PLUS, I have to come home every day after work to the utter DISASTER he’s made the house and CLEAN UP AFTER him because he a lazy slob.
I just can’t do it any more. I’m so stressed out over the whole thing. I have great days at work. I’m relaxed, I’m happy. Then on the drive home I can feel my anxiety going up. And as soon as I turn the corner and can see the front yard I’m miserable. Instantly miserable. For the rest of the night I’m just pissed off and miserable and it isn’t fair to me or the kids or anyone.
2 days ago I turn down the road to see he has parked his deceased mothers car in my spot. Now, I’m not one of those people who is nuts-o over parking places. But he has spent the last 2 weeks BITCHING at me via text message that his brother, (who owns the property that I park in front of) has told him i can’t park there. Which it complete BULLSHIT because I’ve personally talked to Bart about it and Bart could care less. He doesn’t even come to the property. It’s an empty lot. So, just to piss me off, he parks the car there. He keeps telling me I have to “Move my piece of shit van” because he’s going to park this that or the other thing there.
Why? WTF. Just to be an asshat. I seriously park across the street and down the road so my car is out of the way, but he just has to be a dick. So fucking petty I can’t even take it.
So I didn’t say anything, I come in the house, which is TRASHED. He’s got dirt and mud tracked from end to end, and who do I find hanging out in the living room…Sailor Sam. Oh yes, the homeless guy is STILL hanging out here.
Instantly pissed off.
Last night I get home, they have relocated Sailor Sams sailboat, which had been occupying a parking spot out front, into the back of the side yard, so sailor Sam has set himself up some lounge chairs where the boat had been. So now he has the whole deadend of the road for himself to spread out.
I walk in the house, a trail of dirt and debris…leads me to a cage…with 2 fucking puppies in it.
We can’t pay the electric bill this month, but Michael brings home 2 fucking puppies.
Are. You. Fucking. Kidding!?
I can’t take it. I’m so sick of cleaning up after him. I just can’t do this any more. I HAVE to get the fuck out of here. I HAVE to. I can’t keep doing this to myself. Allowing him to steamroll me, and abuse me and take advantage.
I’m just going to have to figure it out. I’m gonna buy something, anything, and just get the fuck out. It will be SO MUCH better for my sanity.