The stale air in my room was stuffy, humid and stagnate, even with the fan pulling fresh air from outside. The fact the window was small and my room set up made it impossible to feel the air, not by choice mind you, but more do to the constraints of the room in itself we in and of itself, depressing. It wasn’t possible to reposition the set up, in part due to the size and layout of the room, but also my father, who’s house it was, wouldn’t allow it. Most days up until recently my room was the living room, (storage room and supply room) in addition to my personal space, however the fact was I had no personal space.I had no home, and none of my things or that feeling of connectedness you get in your own space. My room was the space the kids came to feel connected and happy and at night I came to cry.
My personal belongings, what I had left were in storage, my divorce, just finished leaving me financially negative. I had planed to have one daughter with me (the other two were at college), she was the one who had a slew of mental health diagnosis’s and I had residential custody of, however, I was quickly
educated that, my decree meant nothing, means nothing.
Lies, not the small kind, where used and the system manipulated. I’m not sure what will happen. Every possible way I have tried to find help, there was none there for me. So now I sit in my room, much like a inmate in a cell, (although I think their space is large), unsure of what will happen, in any and every avenue of my life.
The lesson I’ve learned is being genuine, kind and caring gets you know where. Lie, make up your own truths and get someone stupid to pay your way. He’s living the high life, used my daughter for his own gain and I’m the one who’s the joke.
I have tried everything. I have done everything that was suggested to me. There is no justic in this world.