What did I do? by Monica Chaddick Say It Ain't So, Joe writing prompt entry |
So, my question is “What did I do?”. I ask this question because it seems as though very few good things happen to me. Yes, I believe in God, talk to Him, put things in His hands, and trust in Him to help me. And yes, I have been blessed many times in my life. However, let's put the religious aspects aside for a moment, if you don't mind, and please look at the realities of my situation. I don't judge other people. I accept everyone, regardless of their political, religious, or sexual preferences. If someone identifies as some other gender than what they were born as, I try to respect that and address them as such. I don't judge anyone's lifestyle, nor their choice in mates (unless, of course, they are in some sort of danger, like with an abusive partner). Then, I still don't judge them, I just try to help them. I married a good man, with a good work ethic. I worked, as well, and still made breakfast and dinner for my family (home cooked most of the time). I packed lunches for my kids. I put them in any and every extra curricular activity that they wanted to be in. I or my husband, or both, were at every single school and extra curricular event that they had. We took up for them and supported them. When my daughter got pregnant at sixteen, we supported her to the point of taking out a loan to pay the doctor she wanted, because even though she could get help from the government, her doctor didn't take medicaid and she didn't feel comfortable going to a stranger. I babysat for her so she could finish high school, even bringing the baby to work with me. I signed for her to get married to keep her baby's father out of jail. We allowed them to live with us, and they even had another baby while living with us, which I also helped take care of. When they moved out, they left the two kids with us for a year, and we raised and supported them. When my other daughter was kicked out of her boyfriend's house, had a miscarriage, and tried to commit suicide, we took her back in and supported her until she could get back on her feet. She had a baby while living with us, which I watched for her so she could work. When my daughter with the two kids split up with her husband, we moved her and the kids back in with us and again raised the kids while she worked and discovered a social life. I even encouraged her to go out because she never had before. My wonderful, supportive husband literally worked until he had to go into the hospital for the final time. Losing him was the hardest thing I ever had to deal with. Once he died, two of my four kids (the daughter with two kids and my youngest son) basically abandoned me, offering me no help or support whatsoever. My youngest daughter moved back to town, but then she got involved with a severely abusive male and she stopped helping me, as well. In fact, the three younger children begged and borrowed from me until they left me practically penniless. Once my husband died and my children took almost half of his life insurance money, things didn't get any better. I had to give up my house and put most of my possessions in storage. I had to get rid of most of my pets. I kept one dog that my husband had gotten for me not long before he died, and three cats. Once I moved into an apartment complex, one of the neighbors that usually let their little yappy dog run loose allowed it to attack me twice, and my dog (a part pit bull, part Norwegian Ridgeback, did absolutely nothing). One day, my grandson was walking my dog, and that same dog went after my grandson. THAT time, my dog ran after it, rolled it over, and stepped on it. He knocked its hip out of socket. They made a HUGE deal of it, and my dog got taken away and put down. I didn't even get to be with him in the end. A couple of months after that, my storage building was robbed. They broke into an entire row of units in a supposedly secured facility and cleaned out every building in the row, including mine. I lost everything. Appliances, toys, books, important paperwork, family heirlooms, collector's items – everything. A week after that happened, we had to evacuate for a hurricane. My two oldest grandkids were at my house (like always). I called their mother, and she wouldn't leave because she was at work (with her “best friend”), but she said for me to take the kids. She never came out to meet us. We went to Mississippi, and she went with her friend to his family's house in Colorado instead of coming to meet her children. Once we were able to return to our hometown, I had to empty my apartment because there was water damage. My belongings were okay, but I once again had to rent a storage facility (this time out of town) to put my stuff into. We weren't able to finish in a weekend, and there was no electricity or anything yet. Between trips to move, my apartment was robbed. They took a bunch of things, including some blank checks and my wedding dress, which I had promised to my granddaughter. They even stacked a bunch of stuff at the door, apparently planning to come back. Then someone stole my late husband's bar-b-que pit and my twelve outdoor chairs, which were all chained down, but they cut the chains. We weren't even finished moving the furniture before ANOTHER hurricane hit our town, and this time I had two feet of water that stood in my apartment for I don't know how long. By the time we got back, most of my furniture was destroyed, including my full sized billiards table that my late husband had gotten for me and my brand new king sized mattress. When we were finally able to leave evacuation (after two months), there were literally no places available to live in our town. By this time, my oldest son (the only one that hadn't taken money from me) had decided to move in with me to help me out as I was disabled and my physical disabilities were worsening. I found an apartment in Texas, but this complex was a complete slum. It was infested with roaches, there was no maintenance to speak of and the air conditioner kept freezing up and flooding the apartment. I bought a bedroom set from a rental place, but then couldn't afford it because the complex moved us to a larger unit and charged me another deposit, along with another pet deposit. The unit they moved us into had NO air conditioning, the toilet leaked out into the hallway, the stove didn't work correctly, and neither did the dishwasher. They put a small window unit in one bedroom. I had to give up my bedroom set and ended up with just a mattress on a frame and no place to put my clothing. This unit was also infested with roaches. We couldn't even cool down in the pool, because it was as green as a marsh. It took two years before we were able to move back to our hometown. I thought things would get better, but they didn't. While in Texas, we were driving back and forth every day to get my son to work. My daughter suddenly decided she was a mother, and took the kids (9 and 10 at this point), moved in with her friend, and didn't allow me to see them or talk to them for four months so they could “get adjusted”. This after I paid for everything to homeschool them for a year due to Covid while fighting heart problems and being in and out of the hospital. I didn't even get a thank you for that. In fact, she complained to my mother about me having to go in and out of the hospital and not being there to teach them. However, when they went back to school, they had to test to get into a charter school, and I had brought their levels up enough that they passed into their correct grades. I was a teacher for ten years, including special education for six of those years, and knew what I was doing. We moved back to our hometown, and I was watching my other daughter's new baby, that she had with the abusive boyfriend that she was still living with. I tried to help her get away numerous times, but she wouldn't leave him. My five year old grandson was physically, emotionally, and sexually abused in that household, and my daughter said nothing. She lost custody, and now I barely get to see him because he is with his father and his stepmother feels that grandparents should see their grandkids “sparingly”. My daughter got angry with me, said it was all my fault (I never said or did anything), and now will not allow me contact with the baby (she will be three in a few days) and I was very close with her, as well. My mother began having health issues, and while trying to see about her I fell and injured myself, then fell again fracturing my tailbone and my skull. I can't get food stamps or government assistance of any kind, and my rent takes almost my entire check. I have my son and a roommate that help with some bills, but now my son has gotten involved in some online stuff that I am concerned about. As if all of this wasn't enough, the roommate began having health issues and was out of work with no pay for nearly three months. He just went back to work, but won't get a paycheck for four weeks. My son was only given three shifts two weeks ago, three shifts this past week, and his schedule for next week just came out and he has no shifts. He called to find out why, and it is because customers complained. One because he asked them not to sit on the counters, one because he told them their child needed to sit down in the buggy (it ended up flipping over and then they griped at my son because it did), and a third because he told her she wasn't supposed to leave her children unattended in the store when she ran out to get her phone from her car. Due to these complaints, he was suspended for a week and is on his final warning. I can't afford to support myself, much less the rest of these people. I transport my mother anywhere and everywhere that she wants or needs to go, and I barely get $20 a month for gas, and she doesn't help with maintenance at all because she doesn't feel she has to because it's not her car. My son also has to use my car for everything because he doesn't have a car. I keep track of all of my mother's medical stuff for her. As I said at the beginning – I do anything and everything that I can for everyone. I judge no one for anything. I try to do the right thing and be a good person. So, once more as I finish up this sad, sad tale, I ask – WHAT DID I DO???
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Monica Chaddick
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