“A Point Of No Return”

Winter being unique with ice storms, mounds of fresh fallen snow that glistens as tiny stars on the ground at night reflecting from the streetlights. Hearing Citizen Cope “Drummers Kick” knowing there’s a point of no return. Let’s backtract to the end of 2010. There it was beyond the beyond, bad getting worse and even worse. I would go to the grocery store and get items that I preferred. Then went into the fridge and they were gone. Knowing Carol didn’t swipe them, it was again the daughter. I ignored it once or twice but when it happened repeatedly, I voiced my thought and the daughter just rolled her large eyes without even an apology. And beyond that never replaced any of them. My eating and sleeping patterns were disruptive daily. I’d go down the basement to do laundry. There was growing mold in the adjacent room and particularly near the washing machine and dryer. There was not an attempt to make any repairs as I mentioned this problem to Carol. She was aware of it however did nothing. When I mentioned it again she said “I’m sorry” I thought to myself sorry doesn’t get it: this is unsafe. The daughter would be taking repeated baths at all hours. She would have outbursts anytime, screaming inside and out of the house. Carol and myself had locks on both our bedroom doors. I would lock mine even when it would be for a short or longer time. She did whatever she wanted, had no control and her parents never put any controls on her. I would leave the house at 6am walk up to the coffee shop, spend sometime there until Carol would pick me up between 10:30 and 11:00: she would drop me off at the mall or at Borders both on the Eastside, before going to her job. Then from there she would have another job on the southside. I would go there and read and relax until she was finished. It would be midnight when we both got back to the house. This was my daily routine. The more I was away from the house the better so she and I wouldn’t be there alone in the house. Oh speaking of my patterns I would take a showers only once a week, always when the daughter was gone. I would call Carol beforehand to see if it was safe. There wasn’t a lock on the bathroom door. Speaking of locks she broke the lock on my bedroom door. Then began stealing. I told Carol in January I couldn’t live there any longer. She said she agreed. I began calling apartments for rent. This place was hell on earth if there is such a thing and I think there is. At the house I started playing one against the other mentally, just for my own safety. I thought” I got myself into this situation, and I will get myself out”. It is amasing that these experiences are still vivid to recall. It is a test for my memory and for my survival.

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