The End of November

The End of November.





  It\"s been a tough one so far, my husband and I are dealing with family from both angles and we can\"t seem to get a grip. We ended up moving into a new rental in September of 2016 and we were allowed free reign to paint and plant things, so it was nice. My brother moved in with us because I knew he was ready to leave their house and overall rent would be cheaper than any place he could afford. I threw him a bone, he took it.

  To not be a hard ass I came up with four rules of the house: shut off the lights, lock the doors, wash the dishes you use, and clean your room. The main rule is: If you dirty it up, clean it up. Everyone abides by it for the most part, but my brother found enough time to complain about it enough to my mother. My mother: the only house she saw that I lived in was the apartment I moved into in 2013. I had invited them over for dinner at all my other places of residence, that I would cook, but they didn\"t want too.

  My husbands family had spent more time at our homes, even friends would spend the night, but my family could not be bothered.

 At some point you stop being hurt by it and you stop asking.



  Back to my brothers complaints of my rules: our mother ended up buying him a mini fridge, coffee pot, microwave and paper plates, because I asked him to wash my dishes he left moldy in his room.

  We yelled at each other for a solid day via phone and text. The fact that she was enabling his bad behavior, in my house, killed me. At least in our little house I can somewhat have some control, because the rest of my life is hectic, I can control the dishes, the placement of the couch and what we eat for dinner. I just want one ounce of control, but I was loosing it to someone who did not pay the bills.


  I can\"t be around my family since that day, because all I see is backstabbers. These people, my family members, people I loved and thought loved me back, had once asked me to talk to mom and see if there was any way she would consider going to family counseling. She of course thinks she is perfect and refused, leaving the family to throw me to the wolves that day when I asked for help. I got told not to drag the other family members into my lies and that I was just like my biological father and was a habitual liar and I was the crazy one.

  I spent weeks in a funk, thinking about those words, letting them play in my head over and over, asking myself if I was the one who was really crazy. I must be over reacting...