Even
thought she's soon-to-be-an-ex sister-in-law, who knows who much longer
she's going to torment everyone. My brother is now in therapy, and this
week's discussion with his therapist is along the lines of, "I worked 15
hour days so she could stay home, how horrible of a husband was I? And
why does my kid hate me?"
Additionally, the YentaBeast is such a cruel
asshole, she informed my brother (who converted to Judaism for her, so
they could marry in the temple) that he's to give their kid "Xmas
gifts." Which I don't understand the rationalization for that at all--he
converted. He's a Jew. His kid is a Jew. He gives his kid Hanukkah
gifts. End of story! And I guess therein shows she never looked at herself as part of our family, or us as part of hers. We all have been strangers and outsiders to her. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
So two nights ago, he brought his daughter flowers for Hanukkah (as YB dictated that he not bring any gifts for the first night, as his daughter would be visiting him this weekend, and whatever gifts, XMAS GIFTS, should be given then. And his daughter's response was one of utter disgust that he'd give her FLOWERS for a Hanukkah gift.
And there was something worrisome in the last couple days, my brother asking my sister if he should get something for the YentaBeast for Hanukkah. And sis replied something to the effect of:
1. No.
2. If he's planning or even thinking about getting back with her, my sister is done with HIM.
And about #2, I find that to be more bluster than reality, because the reality IS that she will just keep helping, because that's the outward manifestation of the damage done to her, to be programmed to be "the care giver," as well as being the one to suffer the brunt of the chaos of everyone else's lives (whereas I just shut down and insulate myself from everyone and their chaos).
How absurd is that? How sick and co-dependent is my brother? This isn't some deeper sense of chivalry or trying to be the bigger person. I think there is something deeply wrong with him. And whatever it is that's wrong with him is what's also wrong with Audrey. I lack the professional expertise to know whether this is nature or nurture. Is this something that was innately programmed into both my brother and Audrey, or is WHATEVER this is the result of faulty programming (aka EMOTIONAL DAMAGE) Audrey did to our brother (and us, too), as well as the faulty programming/emotional damage my grandfather did to Audrey.
In the meanwhile, my sister is having panic attacks (and the scheduler for her therapist's office is being a real ass-pain), and she's having these vivid "sentient type" dreams, and she's convinced he's going to either kill himself or die. And she's got this messiah complex and compulsion going on. She can intellectualize the fact she needs to back off, but there's that primal instinctual programming going on, too--much in the way Canadian geese fly south for the winter, so, too, my sister continues to HELP, even to her own detriment.
Here endeth today's absurdity.
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
12/5/17
(Screengrab from the Sheriff's website, 12/5/17.)
The value of the house is approx $250K-$275K--Look at how much they owe.
I
still have the overriding desire to let the executive directors of her
temple know that the person in charge of their "ways and means"
committee is incapable of handling basic household economics.
Today is their wedding anniversary (16 years).
Today is their daughter's birthday (12 years).
Today is the official date she leaves him.
I
never went into it, as I didn't think it was still relevant; however,
when my brother was a kid, he had a lot of problems. Perhaps dyslexic to
a degree. Definitely had learning issues. Was left back a year. Somehow
I thought he outgrew it. But it's really obvious to my sister and I, he
hasn't matured or evolved past the age of roughly 15, and I suspect
there's something else I cannot put my finger on exactly--perhaps a
touch of oppositional defiance disorder?
He was incapable of handling ANY of the details that needed to be handled in such a short period of time: sending the necessary paperwork to the Sheriff's office, establishing a new bank account, come up with a place to live, and try to shuffle as much of his stuff to mom's house, and the houses of trusted friends. I strongly suggested he establish a post box, and made that suggestion 3-4 weeks ago, and rather than do that, he had his address on record as our sister's house. Is he too cheap or too obstinate to do such a simple thing? I don't know.
Sister
has deluded herself into thinking that now that he's "settled" into
mom's house, she'll be able to coast. He's incapable of "playing nice"
with others, and where mom's house is (I really should get out of that
habit--as soon, it won't be "hers" any longer) has a HoA, and HoAs tend
to have lots of Nosey Parkers, trying to control what goes on outside
everyone's home. I don't see this ending well at all. And I worry that
my sister got her boss/owner of the company where she works involved in
this mess.
Monday, November 20, 2017
Non-Update Update
Not much to report here, at the moment.
The estate liquidator has flaked yet again, leaving us precisely where we were on October 14th, when she came by for the walk through--which is to say, EVEN FURTHER BEHIND THE 8 BALL than we were, THANKS AUDREY!
We signed a contract, so WE cannot back out of it; however, we are just waiting until THEY decide to emerge out of obscurity, at which point, the house will probably be sold at that point in time. FUCK THESE PEOPLE.
And we are one day away from the date of foreclosure on my brother's house.
What a train wreck all of this has become.
So much in life comes right down to timing. Rather than lead us all on this stupid vanity trip of Audrey half assing her way through rehab, had she been honest with herself (AND MORE IMPORTANTLY--US!), we could have used the two months she languished and half-assed through rehab, to empty the house. But instead, we get one week's notice that "oh by the way, I've decided to stay" and a week later, my sister got a $13K bill from Shady Pines. And the timing of the YentaBeast doing the five year long con, setting the stage for my brother to become, essentially, homeless. Fuck her too. These two hags are two peas in a fetid pod.
Even my family halfway around the glob are going through something similar. They are selling their previous property, and were depending on the financing from the buyer to go through by now, so my brother-in-law sells the ONLY FAMILY VEHICLE, thinking he can buy a new one SOON, and even halfway around the globe, people are disappointing, deceiving fucks.
The recap:
Audrey's house isn't empty & sold;
Brother's house is about to be foreclosed;
Brother ended up in ER due to defibrillator;
Brother hasn't suffered fatal cardiac attack, yet;
Sister hasn't suffered fatal cardiac attack, yet;
Brother hasn't gone out in a misguided blaze of glory in a murder-suicide, yet;
Estate liquidators are MIA.
Here endeth the non-update update.
The estate liquidator has flaked yet again, leaving us precisely where we were on October 14th, when she came by for the walk through--which is to say, EVEN FURTHER BEHIND THE 8 BALL than we were, THANKS AUDREY!
We signed a contract, so WE cannot back out of it; however, we are just waiting until THEY decide to emerge out of obscurity, at which point, the house will probably be sold at that point in time. FUCK THESE PEOPLE.
And we are one day away from the date of foreclosure on my brother's house.
What a train wreck all of this has become.
So much in life comes right down to timing. Rather than lead us all on this stupid vanity trip of Audrey half assing her way through rehab, had she been honest with herself (AND MORE IMPORTANTLY--US!), we could have used the two months she languished and half-assed through rehab, to empty the house. But instead, we get one week's notice that "oh by the way, I've decided to stay" and a week later, my sister got a $13K bill from Shady Pines. And the timing of the YentaBeast doing the five year long con, setting the stage for my brother to become, essentially, homeless. Fuck her too. These two hags are two peas in a fetid pod.
Even my family halfway around the glob are going through something similar. They are selling their previous property, and were depending on the financing from the buyer to go through by now, so my brother-in-law sells the ONLY FAMILY VEHICLE, thinking he can buy a new one SOON, and even halfway around the globe, people are disappointing, deceiving fucks.
The recap:
Audrey's house isn't empty & sold;
Brother's house is about to be foreclosed;
Brother ended up in ER due to defibrillator;
Brother hasn't suffered fatal cardiac attack, yet;
Sister hasn't suffered fatal cardiac attack, yet;
Brother hasn't gone out in a misguided blaze of glory in a murder-suicide, yet;
Estate liquidators are MIA.
Here endeth the non-update update.
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Stalker, More Details Trickling In
The story is awful enough as it is, isn't it? And yet, I felt compelled to ask for clarification on the details, specifically, "was it in front of the urinal or in a locked stall?" It's an act of aggression, certainly, and awful regardless of where it took place; however, I think if it were out in the open, it's even MORE awful.
Today's clarifications:
And in the meantime, the Haitian dude has a project: to basically find out the Stalker's schedule of what he does on what days and times, so I can ensure I stay far from those locations to the best of my ability.
I have two friends at work, two older men in their late 60s, old school paisans of whom are all in my "Circle of Trust," and I am in theirs. Without hesitation, upon hearing of these latest updates, my one friend, who, for privacy purposes, I will refer to herein as Snowy, blurted out, "If you need anything at all, you let me know. And I mean ANYTHING. You *know" D and I will take care of it."
Today's clarifications:
- The previously mentioned workplace tugging did not occur in a stall;
- It happened in front of a urinal in an open mens room (no lock on the door--multiple people can use the restroom);
- When someone walked in on him, not only did he NOT stop; he even managed to either scream or grunt at the point of *release*;
- When confronted (I guess by management or by whomever caught him), he was defiant and said he's not going to stop (and he also managed to say something along the lines about being lonely);
- He pretty much left the surrounding area of the urinal looking like a Jackson Pollock painting. (Ew.)
And in the meantime, the Haitian dude has a project: to basically find out the Stalker's schedule of what he does on what days and times, so I can ensure I stay far from those locations to the best of my ability.
I have two friends at work, two older men in their late 60s, old school paisans of whom are all in my "Circle of Trust," and I am in theirs. Without hesitation, upon hearing of these latest updates, my one friend, who, for privacy purposes, I will refer to herein as Snowy, blurted out, "If you need anything at all, you let me know. And I mean ANYTHING. You *know" D and I will take care of it."
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Ruminating on The Hostile Work Environment Complaint
So many thoughts I want to smash together and sculpt the perfect post. I have to just accept I'm going to vomit the words here and it'll be sloppy, but so be it.
Since the outcome of the complaint amounted to a whole-lotta-nada, and has made me look at everyone involved, Tim-the-old-fuck, as well as his boss, I view them both with jaundiced eyes, and devoid of good will.
I circle back to how this all came to be, how neither one of them, apologized to me. I think of knowing both of these people roughly 15 years, and how neither one of them valued me as a human or as a friend or even as a co-worker sufficiently to even warrant an apology.
The question I ask myself is, "How would they feel if it were their daughter or granddaughter." And then the realization hits me, that perhaps Tim does this to his own daughters and granddaughters, and he doesn't give a shit. They are theirs for the taking. Women exist purely for their pleasure and whim, without question?
This is the 21st Century. I work where I work, so you'd think the standard would be to default to being a paragon of propriety. And in the end, like every other instance in my life where I was harassed or molested--nothing happened to the person(s) who perpetrated this shit upon me.
Within a year or so of my complaint, we had an EEOC type meeting on harassment, and there was one slide in the powerpoint presentation, wherein EVERY. SINGLE. BULLETPOINT. was pertinent to my complaint. I resented being at this meeting. I resented having to sign a form stating I attended this meeting. It was clear to me, this meeting and the contents of the presentation was not to protect ME, but to protect the "office" where I work.
Me speaking out is not MY problem.
Me wanting some modicum of acknowledgment or even justice, is not MY problem.
What IS my problem is being raised by two broken people who raised me to expect nothing more than to be broken, too. What no one (even myself!) ever expected was that I'd glue myself back together, and be strong, and be WHOLE, and have standards. This is not my problem.
I have no idea what it will take to break these old, abusive patriarchal behaviors and transgressions. No amount of outing famous, powerful men is going to do this. I haven't wrapped my brain around what it will take, but I know that a tag #MeToo isn't enough. And even men who come forward claiming #MeToo won't be enough either. And this crosses all manner of socio-economic, national, and racial lines too.
Sharing our stories and examining how common all of this truly is, is good in that it exposes how entrenched this problem is, within families, within our work, within our communities; however, what happens next?
Since the outcome of the complaint amounted to a whole-lotta-nada, and has made me look at everyone involved, Tim-the-old-fuck, as well as his boss, I view them both with jaundiced eyes, and devoid of good will.
I circle back to how this all came to be, how neither one of them, apologized to me. I think of knowing both of these people roughly 15 years, and how neither one of them valued me as a human or as a friend or even as a co-worker sufficiently to even warrant an apology.
The question I ask myself is, "How would they feel if it were their daughter or granddaughter." And then the realization hits me, that perhaps Tim does this to his own daughters and granddaughters, and he doesn't give a shit. They are theirs for the taking. Women exist purely for their pleasure and whim, without question?
This is the 21st Century. I work where I work, so you'd think the standard would be to default to being a paragon of propriety. And in the end, like every other instance in my life where I was harassed or molested--nothing happened to the person(s) who perpetrated this shit upon me.
Within a year or so of my complaint, we had an EEOC type meeting on harassment, and there was one slide in the powerpoint presentation, wherein EVERY. SINGLE. BULLETPOINT. was pertinent to my complaint. I resented being at this meeting. I resented having to sign a form stating I attended this meeting. It was clear to me, this meeting and the contents of the presentation was not to protect ME, but to protect the "office" where I work.
Me speaking out is not MY problem.
Me wanting some modicum of acknowledgment or even justice, is not MY problem.
What IS my problem is being raised by two broken people who raised me to expect nothing more than to be broken, too. What no one (even myself!) ever expected was that I'd glue myself back together, and be strong, and be WHOLE, and have standards. This is not my problem.
I have no idea what it will take to break these old, abusive patriarchal behaviors and transgressions. No amount of outing famous, powerful men is going to do this. I haven't wrapped my brain around what it will take, but I know that a tag #MeToo isn't enough. And even men who come forward claiming #MeToo won't be enough either. And this crosses all manner of socio-economic, national, and racial lines too.
Sharing our stories and examining how common all of this truly is, is good in that it exposes how entrenched this problem is, within families, within our work, within our communities; however, what happens next?
A Palate Cleanser of Sorts: Update on the Stalker
It's been some time, and I don't recall off hand whether I shared (several months back) that I learned that the Stalker ended up retiring; however, last night I learned he didn't retire but was "let go." Apparently he had several issues/reprimands with/by his building manager (a woman), with the final straw being he was caught masturbating in the men's room (multiple times).
Masturbating in the men's room is a sign of aggression, also, an inappropriate place and time for that activity, which just further cements my opinion he's dangerous and a sociopath.
I do have an unanswered question about whether he was jerking off in front of a urinal or in a closed door stall. Not that it matters all that much, in the final analysis; however, if it were out in the open, it's even more aggressive, IMHO.
As I said to the Haitian doorman, "This whole thing is like 'the devil that you know, beats the devil that you don't know,' and that Julius Caesar quote, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' The problem here is we don't know where the hell this devil IS right now!"
Masturbating in the men's room is a sign of aggression, also, an inappropriate place and time for that activity, which just further cements my opinion he's dangerous and a sociopath.
I do have an unanswered question about whether he was jerking off in front of a urinal or in a closed door stall. Not that it matters all that much, in the final analysis; however, if it were out in the open, it's even more aggressive, IMHO.
As I said to the Haitian doorman, "This whole thing is like 'the devil that you know, beats the devil that you don't know,' and that Julius Caesar quote, 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' The problem here is we don't know where the hell this devil IS right now!"
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
T-6 Days & A Wake Up
Here we are, officially/literally a week away from the date my brother's house gets foreclosed.
Where we left off...
He's still pretty much spinning his wheels. He finally broke down and called me. And it was a conversation that went no where, other than just wallowing and circling the drain. No forward movement.
He's incapable of doing what he needs to do (focus, power through, even for the short term) to get himself and his thoughts organized enough to do what he needs to do. And no amount of me telling him he needs to get a storage unit and start ferrying his shit THERE is going to matter.
When he called, he was at Walmart getting some bins to pack up some of his trains (see? he should be focusing on essentials, whatever). His goal for the day was to pack those four bins, and at some point during the day, he got himself wound up, and by the time a friend of our sister's arrived (to look at/assess/possibly buy some stuff), my brother's defibrillator was zapping him like a bolt of lightning.
Luckily the friend was there, and he called our sister, who asked him to take our brother to the hospital. Luckily, it wasn't a cardiac event (this time). After a day and a half of being in the hospital, it was discovered the defibrillator needs to be tweaked or calibrated, and was misfiring.
So losing that day and a half puts him even further behind the 8-ball.
All I can do is sit back and witness what's going on. The list of reasons for my non-involvement are:
Will my sister?
Will he go out in a blaze of misguided glory in a murder-suicide?
Who knows. Stay tuned.
Where we left off...
He's still pretty much spinning his wheels. He finally broke down and called me. And it was a conversation that went no where, other than just wallowing and circling the drain. No forward movement.
He's incapable of doing what he needs to do (focus, power through, even for the short term) to get himself and his thoughts organized enough to do what he needs to do. And no amount of me telling him he needs to get a storage unit and start ferrying his shit THERE is going to matter.
When he called, he was at Walmart getting some bins to pack up some of his trains (see? he should be focusing on essentials, whatever). His goal for the day was to pack those four bins, and at some point during the day, he got himself wound up, and by the time a friend of our sister's arrived (to look at/assess/possibly buy some stuff), my brother's defibrillator was zapping him like a bolt of lightning.
Luckily the friend was there, and he called our sister, who asked him to take our brother to the hospital. Luckily, it wasn't a cardiac event (this time). After a day and a half of being in the hospital, it was discovered the defibrillator needs to be tweaked or calibrated, and was misfiring.
So losing that day and a half puts him even further behind the 8-ball.
All I can do is sit back and witness what's going on. The list of reasons for my non-involvement are:
- Geography--I live too damned far away to commit to helping him without putting a strain on myself and my household, monopolizing our household's only car for this purpose;
- The fact that in 1998 when my life imploded, the only time my brother "helped" me, was when and if I were able to PAY him for his time;
- The fact he's got a baseline of hostility, in a general sense;
- The fact he possesses all the negative characteristics of both parents, that he's lazy and complacent, and easily overwhelmed, and pretty much thinks either he's going to hit rock bottom or perhaps someone will save him, because both of our parents did nothing in the way of preparing ANY OF US with any real life skills like COPING.
- He hasn't asked me for my help.
Will my sister?
Will he go out in a blaze of misguided glory in a murder-suicide?
Who knows. Stay tuned.
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