It has been a few weeks, and I haven’t posted an update on the
situation with my mom’s house, mainly because life has been INSANE, but also
because I handled things less than ideally, and I am pretty embarrassed by how
it all went down.
The plan, dear interlocutors and interested parties, was
this: we were going to get the Mustang sold to make the June payment, and then
my mom was supposed to work on getting some of her assorted stuff (fenton art
glass, sewing machines if need be, etc.) sold to make the July payment. My sister was going to have a big garage
sale, to clear things out, and I kind of thought to help with the mortgage payment. We had things under control, we had a PLAN.
But, like most plans I try to make, it did not really work
out. Selling the mustang in its previous
non-running state was a major challenge, we also had substantial life things to
deal with and had a hard time keeping up on it all. My sister DID have a big garage sale, and I
believe she made some money at it, but I don’t think any of it went towards
saving the house. I don’t know. No one actually tells me things unless/until
it’s an emergency they want me to solve.
While this was going on, I discovered something else. I applied and was accepted to a graduate
teacher education program in my area. I
received a generous funding package, comprised of scholarships and a tuition
remission fellowship that was going to make the whole thing cost me about
$1000. Not bad, really, since scholarships
for teaching school are pretty rare… BUT I discovered 2 weeks before class
started that the tuition remission did not start until Fall 2019, and I had no
funding at all for summer term. Also,
the additional endorsement program they pushed me to enroll in cost quite a bit
more than they said it did at the info night...
“WELL, SHIT,” I thought, “but I’m already committed to this,
and $5,000 still isn’t that bad for an
MA,” so I filled out last year’s FAFSA and a financial aid form, and was “awarded”
a Stafford loan that was enough to cover both tuition and an excess of, very
conveniently, just a bit over the amount needed to cover my mom’s next stupid
payment if we couldn’t get the Mustang sold in time. In the meantime, my
brother-in-law very graciously offered to come down to visit and stay for a few
days and get the car to start and run.
So, I figured, “OK, I’ll accept the loan, hold off a few weeks on selling
the car, give my mom a temporary loan until that happens, and then have
this little pool of money left over to put a down payment on a new van, since
ours is breaking down” Sure, it’s not
what student loans were intended for, by any means, but basically NONE of the
student loans I took out for my Ph.D. actually went to tuition (CUSTODY
LAWSUITS, living expenses while ex was unemployed, etc., BOOOOO!!!) so I’m
already on a roll, at least this makes things simple and I can stop being so
anxious about it and do this in an orderly fashion.
So brother-in-law comes down, they mess around with the car
for a couple of days, finally get it running, husband posts it for sale right
before I head off to leave on what’s supposed to be my last-hurrah-before-becoming-a-worthless-graduate-student-again
trip to Seattle for a Magic tournament.
I’m thinking, when I get back, it will be sold and life will be
grand. But shit happened. So much shit, and it didn’t work out.
Life got super stressful in a number of new and exciting
ways, the car got unlisted, grandma’s health took an abrupt turn for the worse.
(She got better, though, like she does.) (I don’t mean “better” as in she’s going to completely shake off this whole
dying plan, but she did recover from the apparent crisis, and is back to her
basic slow, steady, generally cheerful decline.) My mom also DID start making inroads into
sorting her stuff for some kind of sale, so that’s good. The Mustang is now in my garage, it has a
trip permit, and it’s sitting there taunting me and trying to tempt me to take
it out and drive off fleeing into the sunset, as I have a tendency to do when I
have access to a convertible in the midst of a mid-life crisis scenario.
(OK, that’s only happened ONCE so far, so that may not indicate
an actual a “tendency,” but the overwhelming pull that stupid car has on me
right now makes me suspect that it easily could become one if I let it. And hey, maybe that’s not so bad. The last time it happened, it more or less
worked out because, while the Rabbit DID sort of burst into flames in the dead
of night on a spooky and remote stretch of highway between San Francisco and Santa
Barbara, I DID meet a prophet out of the deal (my first and only so far). And the interesting, painful, but
enlightening and completely necessary drama that ensued, eventually, after much
agony, did end up being for the best. I
think. Let’s just say it did.)
Whew, I got off
track, because this is where it all went wrong, and I am super stressed about it,
and now we get back to the June payment.
I got back from Seattle much later than I expected on the 23rd. My grad program started the evening of the 24th. I was exhausted, there was a lot to deal
with, I just barely got myself to my first class. But my first class was kind of awesome, and I
felt pretty optimistic about that. I was
still really worried about the cohort leader I was assigned to, but I had a
meeting scheduled for the next day with the department head, and it was my
understanding that I was going to be able to switch groups before the first
class met, and everything would be OK.
BUT IT WAS NOT OK. It was super
not OK, but I sent off the emails I needed to, worked on my Monday class
homework, did some other stuff that really needed to be done, and just let my
mom know that, look, I took out enough student loans to cover the $1500 you
need for this month, and you can pay me that back when we get the Mustang
relisted and sold, hopefully this weekend.
“But,” she said, “actually, some things that I wasn’t
expecting came up, and could you actually do $2000.” “Um…” I thought, “that breaks into the van
money I got selling Magic cards in Seattle, but we should definitely be able to
get $2000 for the car, but maybe not much more, and I was really hoping we would
also be reimbursed for some of the miscellaneous money we’ve put into getting
it salable and posted…but OMFG, whatever, I don’t have time to get her sorted
out to do anything else.” So I
agreed. (I also found out that she
actually only has one more balloon payment to make, not the two that I was expecting,
and so the other part of my acquiescence was just relief that we were a lot
closer to done with this mess than I thought.)
She gave me a deposit slip, I went to my bank and withdrew
the cash, drove it over to her bank and deposited it on Wednesday, and let her
know, and ASSUMED she’d let me know when she’d made the payment because
she knew I was worried … but all I heard were crickets. “Well,” I thought again, “grandma’s been
struggling, and she’s probably worrying about that. I’m sure she made the payment. Of course she did.” But more crickets.
Meanwhile, I was dealing with an apocalypse at school. They wouldn’t let me switch cohorts, my guys
was 100 times worse than I ever imagined, the department was only marginally
helpful in sorting it out. I was
panicking because I went in not 100% sure if I actually wanted to be a high
school teacher, and became certain that, either way, there was no way I could
make it through a term, let alone 2 years with this guy in charge of my
classes, my placements, and my veritable fate.
I was dealing with that, and trying to keep the kids somewhat entertained,
as well, and not really thinking that I needed to also micromanage my mom.
But then it was Friday, the 28th, two days before
the first, and I still hadn’t heard from here, and then I got scared. I sent her a text in the morning – “did you
get the payment made? It’s the 28th…” No reply.
I went to the meat market, and started a pot of hamhocks and beans for
grandma, because I know it sounds cheesy, but they always cheer her up and have
lead to improbably health rallies in the past.
I did some other things, and got ready to take the kids to the park. I still hadn’t heard and thought everything MUST
be OK or she would have said something, and then I realized in one of those lightning-flash
oh-shit moments that probably the opposite was true somehow. So I called her around 2:30. She didn’t answer. I left a message. More crickets, so we went to the park.
The big kids drew and walked around, the little one played
and looked at rabbits, and we were treated to a very flashy obnoxious show of
squirrels doing it. It was a pretty good
park trip all around, but as we were about to get in the car, the phone
rang. At 3 FUCKING 45 PM, the last bank
day before the first. It was my mom
calling me back, guess how: IN A PANIC.
Some auto payment debited early, allegedly, and she was another $350
short. Could she borrow that much until
Tuesday, when she would definitely pay me back.
I’d need to come by and get her debit card or a deposit slip, and take
care of it right away.
SO FUCK. JUST,
FUCK. I was pretty exasperated, but I
didn’t chew her out. I’m already 2 grand
in on this, what the fuck does it even matter now. I told her I’d drop off the kids, and head
over, we’re apparently doing this again.
Dashing across Gresham in afternoon traffic, getting the slip, going to
my bank, going to her bank, hoping to make it on time, waiting in line to do
bank business on the Friday afternoon before a holiday week when everyone who
still gets physical paychecks is trying to turn them into spending cash. FUCK.
I did cry in the car, and told the kids what was happening,
and how this wasn’t OK, and I would never, ever, EVER do this to them, and they
didn’t need to worry that this was some kind of normal. (It’s not normal, it’s not OK, and I will NEVER
put them through this.) I stopped at the
house and got them settled, and scooped out a couple of containers of beans for
grandma, and headed over to the house to get the thing. I got over there and went inside, and
realized my uncle was there, but no Momma.
She was at HER house, by the way, going through stuff and didn’t mention
it. So I jumped back into the car, went
over to her house, she handed me the deposit slip and thought it was funny that
I was confused? No sorry, no thank you,
just here you go, do the thing.
And I did the thing, and texted her from the bank asking her
to please confirm for me when she’d made the payment so I could stop worrying
about it. She at least did that, but was
very terse about it, and seemed put out by my distress. I was rattled, and stressed out, and felt
like a complete chump, but I didn’t have time to rage it out. I went to Magic with my son, I played
horrifically because I was so distracted, but that’s still better than sitting
home stewing in bile.
More things happened with school, the situation got worse, I
realized I couldn’t do it and needed to drop, but decided to sleep on it a
night, and dropped out Monday morning… only to find that I had to drop by
midnight Sunday night to get a refund, because summer term is really, really
stupid like that. I filled out a
petition to get the refund, anyway, due to the extremely bizarre circumstances
I was dealing with. It should eventually
be approved, but there are several more steps to go, and I am not even 100%
sure what happens with the student loans once my drop is processed. Are they all due back right away? Do I just have this stupid money in my
account? If so, I’m going to see if I
can send it right back to them, but there are several layers of “Ifs” that must
be resolved before I even get to that point, so I have not put in the call yet.
In any case, now I’m stuck here, with another chunk of
student loans taken out, my mom (OBVIOUSLY) did not call me on Tuesday to arrange
to pay me back the $350. My whole life
plan is screwed up, and I feel like a total chump. So far as I can tell, she hasn’t actually
started trying to sell anything to make the August payment, and I suspect is
planning on me stepping in to organize whatever sale she is envisioning carrying
out. I’ve got a bedeviled Mustang
sitting in my garage taunting me, and everything is a gigantic mess.
But I am trying to just keep going. I relisted the car today, and have already
had one pretty serious bite. I called my
boss and said “hey, I actually AM available to teach for you now,” and was immediately
assigned more classes for the summer than I probably should have taken on, but
I feel an urgent pressure to make some money, just in case this refund thing
doesn’t pan out, and because the van’s still busted and is not, like my
grandma, a magical, immortal, self-regenerating beast. And more than that, because when I go to work
and teach my silly classes, I feel competent, and in-control of the situation,
and fulfilled knowing that I am helping people who actually want and appreciate
my help, but the same time able to say “no,” when they occasionally ask for
help that exceeds my contracted list of duties and obligations.
I’m trying to make a new life plan, and figure out what’s
next. I’m reading a self-help book on codependency,
because… when someone told me that was the problem with me way back in the
Generalisimo days, I thought they just meant “as it pertains to your
relationship with Franco,” and did not pick up at the time that they meant “YOUR
WHOLE ENTIRE PROBLEM, STUPID, EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU AND THE WAY THAT YOU’VE BEEN
TRAINED TO INTERACT WITH PEOPLE.” It was
a tricky time, I was fighting for my life, and the fact that I at least heard
part of that message and got out was, I think, still a pretty decent victory,
but it probably would have kept me out of some of the additional trouble that
followed if they had explained that a little more thoroughly at the time. It would also be helpful if, instead of just
explaining the 1000 ways my brain is dysfunctional, it would take a chapter out
to explain how “normal, healthy” people do respond to this kind of nonsense, so
I understood what I was aiming for. But
it doesn’t, so I guess I will just have to interpolate and guess.
And that’s where I’m at.
Waiting to hear from the school, waiting to hear from my mom about the
$350 (assuming that I won’t), waiting to
hear from potential Mustang-owners, and currently, at this EXACT moment, babysitting
a classroom full of students who are enduring the agony of a proctored LSAT
exam. Waiting and thinking and hatching
plans, and planning responses, and building up the nerve to tell my mom “NO
MORE. That’s it, I’m out, you’re going to have to figure out the rest.”
I know that’s what I need to say, I’m trying to work up to
saying it, but it’s trickier than it sounds.
My poor uncle is imprisoned over there trapped in her net (he’s a grown
man, he could also say no, I know that’s at least not my responsibility, but …
my brain programming is barely hanging on to this concept in general, and is
not ready to stop worrying about him.)
Worse yet, it sounds like, we’ve heard disturbing rumors that,
she’s trying to sucker my nephew who just turned 18 into taking his place, and
that is TERRIFYING. FUCKING
TERRIFYING. Like, I know that I need to
defend myself, we also have an obligation to protect the kid, because he’s also
been raised in this nightmare scenario, he doesn’t understand that it’s not
normal, and we want to make sure that he really understands what’s really
happening, and knows that he does have the right to say no.
So, anyway, everything’s pretty much fucked at the
moment. But the goddamn house isn’t
being foreclosed on for another month. I’m
so tired of all of this, I want out, I want to run away. But I don’t want to see another unsuspecting victim
get sucked in to take my place.
Anyway, this has all been super fun (I’m apparently less
fine and composed about it than I thought I was when I started, arghhh!!!,) but
the students are finally ready for their break, so I’m ending this here.
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