I’m pretty good at ranting and am often afraid to let my wrath loose on my blog for fear of people hauling ass for the hills because people tend to do that when I fuckin’ lose it, but today I’m going to just freak out a little bit. Please bear with me. If I don’t get it out then I’m liable to explode in an unhealthy way and no one needs that.
I would like to say a big FUCK YOU to the U.S. Army and sort of did just that this morning although, granted, it was in the background of a phone call Dean was having with his superiors. Here is what is going on:
Back in July they took all of our pay and have since left us with no money. Our bills are behind and shit is being shut off left and right and we’re eating out of food closets and shit. Well, the military has a sort of welfare program where they assist families who have no money and are extremely destitute and it is so hard to qualify for this additional financial help that there are only five soldiers in the entire Army who do. And we are one of them. So, as of September 13th, we have been “supposed” to have been getting an extra 250 bucks a month to help us and even though that doesn’t do much, we need it. This extra help is called FSSA. When Dean wrote his congressman the investigators were told by his unit that they were helping us and that we have been receiving FSSA every month.
We have not seen a red cent of this money.
Now, you all have seen our paychecks and so you know this is true and that we need this money (!!!!). Christmas is coming up in a couple of weeks and we have not gotten any of our kids even one gift yet and I am down to two diapers and we need food. Dean goes to his unit and they take him down to finance who tells him that last Monday he will receive back pay for all of the FSSA money we should have gotten since September which is almost 900 dollars and could solve a lot of problems. We can catch up on bills, go to the grocery and buy the kids some presents so that I don’t have to tell them on Christmas morning that Santa was shot down by terrorists, which is what I’m sort of thinking I may have to tell them.
Still no FSSA. Now they are saying that we should have it by next Monday. We’ll see.
At any rate, we have been running around like crazy trying to get some help. Matt and Owen’s school has a program where a certain amount of families qualify for a shopping spree at Wal Mart. It’s for fifty bucks per child in school and the boys are supposed to be there right now each buying fifty dollars worth of toys. But, they are NOT there right now. Guess why.
Dean had a dentist appointment scheduled for today because they can’t throw him out of the military if he needs work done. So, they scheduled him an appointment that coincides with the shopping spree and when Dean asked if he could reschedule it they told him that he is “ordered” to go to the appointment and if he misses it then they will give him another Article 15. Olivia and Emi are not allowed in the store during this shindig because they don’t go to the school and the store is being closed to the public today for this thing and so Dean was needed to take the boys. And this was all last minute so no time to try to hunt down a sitter (sitter… *snicker*… as if I know ANYONE here that could watch my kids).
This morning, Dean begs his work to allow him to reschedule his dentist appointment. He tells them that my kids have nothing and really need this. He is promptly told to go to hell and reminded of the Article 15 warning. Dean is flabbergasted.
Somebody in his unit called here this morning and I went ballistic in the background. Dean was going along with the call and saying that he would be at the appointment but can they please reconsider because it’s important to his kids and then..”Okay, I’m sorry” and all kinds of shit. I was about three feet away yelling my fool head off into the phone:
“SORRY??? YOU’RE APOLOGIZING TO THESE MOTHERFUCKERS??? NO… FUCK THEM! TELL THEM YOU’LL TAKE THE ARTICLE 15 BECAUSE THIS IS BULLSHIT! THEY ARE FUCKING OUR KIDS IN THE ASS AND RUINING EVERYTHING… TELL THEM TO FUCK OFF!!! TAKE THE FUCKING ARTICLE 15!!!!!!!!”
There was silence from Dean and then: “Um, okay.”
They are calling him back, he says. Oh. Okay, I reply.
Five minutes later they call and “order” him in to work for an ass chewing. Lord. At this, I can visibly see Dean just about shitting his pants. He is pale. He can’t speak. An ass chewing is something he fears since they love to push him into walls and scream in his face and shake their fists at him and threaten to destroy his family. He is scared to death and I try to calm him down.
This is all ridiculous because just yesterday they told him to try to get some help somewhere for Christmas. Now, they are standing in the way of that. For no reason.
The stress is killing us. I’m now throwing up as a result of it about twice a day and neither Dean nor I can sleep. As a result of neither of us sleeping, bad things are happening to further stress us out:
Dean fell asleep at the wheel yesterday and got into a crash that totalled our car.
He’s okay physically. The other guy is fine but our car is not. And the icing on the cake? Since we have no money and are totally behind on our bills, our car insurance lapsed out and we’re screwed.
Can someone tell me what the fuck is happening to our lives??? I am in hysterics. This past year has been AWFUL. Just for fun, here’s a timeline of events that have occurred in the past twelve months that has completely fucked up my head:
JAN. 2007– Dean, in a desperate attempt to get food for our family, shoplifts some video games from a store and returns them for cash. He gets busted.
FEB- I, at six months pregnant, find out that I have a grapefruit sized tumor on my ovary and am going to have to have emergency surgery to remove it or I could go into shock, bleed to death, lose my baby and die. I silently panic and freak out over what to do.
MAR- I have the surgery and am put on bedrest. We are thrilled to find out that the baby is okay and that I’m not dying of cancer.
APR- Dean decides it’s time to get off the methamphetamines the military has put him on and tries to do so cold turkey resulting in a deep depression. He, ridden with guilt and feeling completely lost, goes to work where he is cussed out all morning until he snaps. He leaves work and then attempts suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning. He is discovered in a remote corner of post, unconscious in our car, pulled out by two soldiers who stumbled upon him and is ambulanced to the hospital where they dilute his bloodstream and the poison in it. He is then sent home instead of to a loony bin where they should have put him on suicide watch. I, still pregnant and on bedrest, am starting to crumble.
MAY- I go into premature labor and spend days at the hospital with them giving me steroid shots and trying to stop my labor. I’m still very stressed out.
JUNE- We go to the hospital for an ultrasound because I have gotten huge and they think there is a problem with the amniotic fluid. They discover a cyst on the baby’s placenta and they also discover that I am in labor again. I am admitted to the labor and delivery ward, given an amniocentesis and give birth the next day, a month early. The baby has a lot of problems and spends the first week in the NICU getting spinal taps and treatments for oxygen desaturations as her lungs were underdeveloped.
JULY- At the beginning of the month Dean gets his Article 15 for the shoplifting. They take his rank and all of our money.
AUG- I write a threatening letter to the commander telling him that I will have his ass for what he has done to my family. His unit responds by telling Dean that he had better shut me up or there will be consequences. I have another surgery and go back on bedrest for a week.The next day the commander sends the first sgt. to break into my house, have my children taken away, calls my landlord and has us evicted and tells Dean that he is being thrown out of the military. They snicker at us and explain to us these “consequences” of my letter. Dean and I start fighting like hell, get our kids back and spend the entire month in court getting restraining orders and fighting our eviction. We win the eviction and a judge tells Dean’s first sgt. that he is a piece of shit and to stay away from us.
SEPT- We try to piece things together and practically live at JAG. We write a very lengthy complaint to our congressman. We go crazy working with social workers and lawyers and just… go nuts. Totally apeshit.
OCT- Still no money and things are starting to get shut off. We live without power for three days and I cook food in my fireplace.
NOV- Child welfare comes back with their findings on us as parents and the allegations Dean’s unit has made against us. The verdict? UNFOUNDED. Finally, something to smile about.
DEC- This shit. $6,000 estimate for my totalled car. Which isn’t running.
Can someone PLEASE tell me how in the hell I’m going to make it??? I can’t handle any more shit. I really can’t. I’ve been slowly falling apart for a year and I just cannot do this anymore.
I’m going to try to be happy today, I am. I really, really am going to try. I’m just starting to wonder if some police officer 26 years ago really screwed up my fate and if I was never supposed to wake up from the coma my dad put me in. I am really wondering what the fuck I’m doing here… what the past 29 years of life have been for….
On my wall I have an old, decaying newspaper article “COP SAVES THE LIFE OF BABY” and in it is his name. I have always wondered if I should call him up and thank him for giving me cpr and saving my life but these days I’ve thought about calling him up and asking him, “why couldn’t you just leave me be??? Couldn’t you have just ran a little slower??? Would you have saved me if you knew what would be happening for the next 26 years??? Why couldn’t you have just let me die and spared me all the shit that has happened since then??”
But no need to make him unhappy. He is the hero cop and he deserves to be. I just sometimes really wish that his efforts had been for nothing, that it was too late.
I think life was supposed to stop that day and God now doesn’t know quite what to do with me.
I’m going to be happy today… I will force it if I have to. Which I can pretty much bet on. Happy Happy Happy Happy Happy….
Say it with me now… everybody!!!