I will never have a freezer. I will never have a room where I can foster.
I will never be able to invite lots of friends and family over for another Hanukkah party.
I can't move out of this house into the one I think we might have bought.
I am trapped in a house full of my husband's THINGS. His bookshelves overflow with books he'll never read, clippings of articles he'll never us. He can't reach his closet, because the door is blocked with tool bags and stuff from home projects he's never gotten back to. The hall closet is crammed with 8-12 of his coats, with little room for the rest of our coats, which overflow wall pegs, and the rest of the closet is crammed with more tools. And we HAVE storage--$500 worth of it, that holds dozens of boxes of his books among other things.
He sits at the kitchen/dining table, surrounded by hundreds upon thousands more books, typing on his computer,( on message boards because he is paranoid about personal identity on the Internet), and since we have a living/dining room, it makes me feel as if I am invading his space if I sit there and watch TV. More books are piled on the floor and on top of the bookcases I bought to go behind the sofa, so he could get them out of sight. He hasn't.
At night, if he is not at the table he is using the Wii I hoped would be used for healthy activities for goddamn pilot/shooting games, and he comes upstairs only when it's his bedtime.
So I am generally trapped up in my bedroom, and the girls retreat to theirs--JR to play her guitars, SC to use her computer. They don't hang out with Dad much anymore. SC sometimes will stay up late watching a movie with him--usually they select movies I don't like and I'm not invited to join them.
The house that used to feel warm and loving and happy is a junkyard for things the Man brings home that don't make him happy, that make the rest of us unhappy, and because of this I can't think of showing it to renters, let alone to buyers, and as a result, I can't get a mortgage for a larger house where the girls and I might be able to be happy again.
I'm not sure the Man will ever be happy again. He gets angrier and more depressed no matter what we do, and he is reminding me alarmingly of his own father, who had severe PTSD and made the last years of Nanay's life a lot harder than they should have been. We have all asked him to get help. He may or may not.
But I am trapped into this house, into this life. The girls won't be--not forever. But right now they are--and they are unhappy about things--especially JR. I hate that.
I lost my mom and my dad. My brother has sadly become a relative, but not family.
And this is the final insult.