Why Can't I Get Over This?

I'm kind of reluctant to get this personal, but since no one reads this blog, I guess it won't matter.

I was born in Redondo Beach, California. I lived in California until 2001, when we moved to North Texas.

The last place my ex and I lived was Perris, California. We owned a 3 bedroom, 2 bath stick built home. Two horses, two horse trailers, and a good Ford Lariat Dually to pull them with. I belonged to a equestian drill team, and had a great job, and my ex was steadily working for once. I had a little money, from an inheritance from my dad. I also had the last remnant of my bull terrier kennel. There were about eight dogs, all aging gracefully and with great care by me and my ex.

Our next door neighbors were our best friends, and we did alot of great things together. We also had a standing Domino game ever Friday and Saturday night.

One fatefully day, our neighbors announced that they were moving to Fort Worth, TX. Without going into too much detail, my ex talked me into going with them.

So, in summer of 2001, we pulled up stakes and moved to Texas.

We were able to find a 5 acre parcel, and purchased a large, custom-made doublewide home to put on it. We built stout oil-pipe fencing for the horses and was able to make a corral of about 1/4 acre. For our dogs we were ablt to make their own yard, with a ramp going into the house to their very own room.

Then reality struck.

My ex, always the cocky fellow, decided that since he had a federal Airframe and Powerplant license, that he should just be able to walk into any company around and suddenly become a top manager.

Obviously, Texas didn't agree and he went without work for months. He then finally found a job at Wal Mart. He found his girlfriend there, too. More on that later.

Meanwhile, I combed all of North Texas looking for a job as a secretary, receiptionist, anything I could find. I finally wound up working as a sales person for a manufactured housing (read: trailer house) company.

I soon discovered that sales is not my strong point. I can't lie to people about the product, and I can't see getting people's hopes up about buying a house when they can't possibly afford it. I lasted a year there.

I then finally found a secretarial job in Dallas. Two hour commute both ways, but I was able to make the mortgage and bills together with my ex's check.

Enter: ex's girlfriend. She was a large woman (as I am) with 3 kids by 3 different dads, and one on the way. I suspected my ex for the one in the oven, but the timing wasn't right. She did however, try to get him to sign his name on the new baby's birth certificate when it was born. He didn't...it was the one time he listened to me.

To make a long story short, I was tired of him, he was tired of me, and thought he'd found the perfect woman. So I told him to pack his things and go live with her.

Now, I was REALLY on my own. With no support from the ex on the house, all the bills were mine.

I held on for a while, by the skin of my teeth...every one ate, even when I didn't.

Thing got worse and worse. Finally, I took my dogs to the vet for a final visit. There were eight, all of them aging bull terriers that I could not place. I was there for each as the needle with slipped into their vein. For 10 years I raised and showed bullies, and now it was ALL OVER. My heart still breaks when I think of it.

The only dogs that I kept was my chihuahua/pomeranian mix, Jaws, and a chocolate chihuahua named Cisco. I could afford to feed them.

It got to the point where I couldn't afford to feed my horses, even with round bales going at about $25. A kind lady at my job at the time took them in. I gave them to her and her husband. Sidenote: I did go to visit the horses once. There were on 5 to 7 acres of lush pasture, fat, contented and happy. Their feet and teeth looked great. Her husband had even used my foxtrotter in Martin Luther King day parade and was very happy with him. My grade buckskin was ridden most often by their teenage boys, and was in great shape as well.

Now, with all the animals gone, I had more money to spend. Mostly on dumb stuff like food, mortgage, car payment, tax payments, etc.

The final blow came when I was laid off from my job in Dallas. A new manager had come it, and he decided I was below the calibur of secretary he needed. So, out I went.

Now I had no job, no prospects, and a looming, enormous bills.

You may ask where my "friends from California" now? Well, they were struggling, but both were working. Not once did they offer a place to stay, a meal or even a listening ear. They just stayed away, like I was some sort of leper.

During this time, I had a sudden influx of mice in the house. Like an Asshat, I put down some poison and little Cisco got into it and died. I'll never forgive myself for being so galactically and reprehisibly irresponsible. I still have his ashes as a reminder.

I had a couple of jobs. One in the Wal Mart Deli for about 2 weeks. I failed miserably. My hats off to anyone who works in such an environment - you aren't paid enough!

After that, I worked as a secretary at a steel company. Unfortunately, it didn't work out. My boss was crazy; if she didn't like how I did things, she would withhold work from me, making it appear that I didn't do anything all day. So for $17.00/hour I shredded paper and rearranged the filing system. One day there was a closed door meeting with all the staff but me. Guess what? I was out again.

Also, my bipolar situation didn't help matters. I finally, after many calls, found the county mental health group.

I will be forever in debt to those people there. They got me my medication, a little therapy, and a whole tanker full of support. They visited me on more than one occasion to check on me and my living conditions. They were loving (as far as their jobs would allow) and were an invaluable balm on my broken heart.

I finally reached the end of my rope. I called an estate sales person, and gave her all of my furniture, pictures, and anything else that may have been of value. I called the mortgage company and told them they could have the house after June 29, 2003, as I wouldn't be living in it any more. I didn't have a chance to move the things I was going to keep out of the house before the estate person took my belongings. The house was broken into and anything that was small enough to carry out of the house was stolen. I later saw some of my things in the neighbor's house across the street. I didn't have the strenght, either physically or mentally, to challenge her.

I pawned all the jewelry that I had that was worth anything. I also traded my horse trailers and trucks for work that was needed around the trailer after it was hit by a straight line wind.

In short, I had nothing.

There is another person I need to mention, my best friend and partner. I'll call him by his road name, Putley.

I met him at my trailer job. He worked in the factory that produced these homes. One day I spoke to him over the phone about when a house would be delivered, and we just got to be friends after that.

He watched everthing that was going on. He gave great advice and hugs when they was needed, and was always there to "boot me in the ass" when I was ready to just give up.

When I was on the verge of being homeless, and had to give up Jaws so I could go to a shelter, he said I could stay with him until I got on my feet, and could rent a room when I got a job. I'm still renting that room today.

As all this was going on for me, he wound up getting a horrible bite from a brown recluse spider on his ankle. I took care of his house while he was in hospital. When he was transferred to a retirement home for care, (as he didn't have a wife or anyone at home to care of him at home) I visited him there every day. I brought him his mail, burgers from his favorite burger joint, cigarettes, whatever he needed or wanted to make him feel better. But I was there for him. In the same way my "friends" weren't there for me.

Putley and I share a bond. Not one of marriage, (I'll NEVER do that again), but of something stronger than friendship. It's really hard to put it into words.

When my car got repossessed, (the last thing I lost), Putley found me a cute little 4 door sedan that gets great milage. I was able to purchase it for a ridiculous price from the money from my estate sale.

Also, I adopted a female chihuahua from a breeder. This poor little dog was about 2 years old when I got her, and clearly, she wasn't interested in puppies. She had no hair, was flea-ridden, and very, very thin. I bought her, took her to my vet, and got her spade, and a good flea bath. When I got her home, she didn't know what a bed was, what a tummy rub was, and it took weeks for her to trust me. Now, all she wants is hugs and kisses. Oh, yeah, and table scraps (which she doesn't get). She gets along great with Jaws, and they spend many happy days together.

With some of the money I got from the estate sale, I bought a motorcycle. It's not a horse, and one could argue that it's much more dangerous, but it's something to do. I'm not good at arts & crafts, knitting, cooking or the other girly pursuits. But I can ride, and ride well.

I guess to some it up, I now have a good job (for as long as that lasts, but that's another blog), two wonderful little dogs, a great friend, my own car and motorcycle.

I am grateful, believe me I am.

But why can't I let go of the past I have just described to you at length? This is the first time I've written or talked about it in any detail. There is a huge hole in my heart when I think about it too much.

I yearn to turn back the clock back to the time I last lived in California, and put my foot down against moving to Texas. I want my life back the way it was.

But yearning is pointless, isn't it?

I need to find a way to forget this mess. I know there is a way to get over it. I just haven't found it yet.