Blog/Journal Type Entries

Scorched Earth

Tomorrow will be one week since I turned fifty. Last weekend was a whirlwind of celebratory activities. We started the weekend doing community service at a spiritual center here in Los Angeles. Agape Spiritual Center was founded by a man name Michael Bernard Beckwith, and I came to know of him through the book, The Secret, which featured many notable spiritual leaders and writers at the time.

I have followed Michael's teachings for well over fifteen years. So when I saw an Instagram post seeking volunteers for the center's annual Sacred Service Saturdays, I jumped at the opportunity to do something for my community. I had to get over my nerves and anxiety about working with people I do not know. But Rick came along, and was happy to help. I met a new friend, Stella, while there, and it was a great day.

The next evening, we got dressed up and Rick took me on a surprise date. I did not know where we were going, just told what to wear. We ended up at a VERY hip and cool speakeasy called the Obscure. It is part immersive experience, part distillery, part tasting room. You're seated in a large room I can only compare to the Blue Bayou restaurant inside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. It was a lovely time!

Monday, my actual birthday, I opened my present from Rick- a brand new Brother sewing machine! After opening presents, we went shopping for sewing supplies. We had a lovely day out together. Then the evening was spent eating street vendor al pastor burritos, and after, dark chocolate raspberry cake and strawberry sorbet that Rick had made in our ice cream maker.

Yesterday, my brother and his boyfriend came out to do something fun to celebrate. We went to a tea house in South Pasadena, and sat outside in the sun together, enjoying green tea and fruit slushies. Then we walked over to an art gallery which had a theme based on the animated series Over the Garden Wall.

During the gallery visit, I started to feel pretty intense abdominal pain. We decided to go to our favorite sit down Chinese restaurant. We all ordered, and before the first course arrived at our table, I had to make a few trips to the restroom, and did not even attempt to take more than a couple of bites of my chicken curry, before I thought it best to just pack it up and eat it later.

Then we went to an escape room I had been wanting to experience called the Bunker. We beat the room with only 3 minutes to spare, and after, we came back to our apartment for hang time with my brother and Brent.

There was something hanging about in the air, and I knew something big was coming, then my brother decided to drop a few bombs.

He is planning on finally moving out of the house he shared with my parents before their deaths. I knew that was coming, and we offered to help however we could. I said Rick and I would be coming out for a few days at a time to retrieve my own belongings that have been stored there for over seven years, and also to help clean, pack, and either sell or donate any items from my parents that we don't want.

But here's the "NON- NEGOITABLE" from my brother. Because there has been a rat problem in the past, that my brother let get COMPLETELY out of control, he claims that EVERYTHING in the garage is destroyed and MUST be trashed. I was just there a few months ago, and went through MY belongings that were at the front of the garage, bags and boxes FILLED with THOUSANDS of dollars of clothing, shoes and purses that were to be listed on Ebay. At that time, my items were okay, and my brother assured me that the rat problem was under control.

Now he claims that EVERYTHING is destroyed. He held EVERYTHING hostage for five years after my mom passed. We were not allowed to touch anything in the house. And now he is in control of how it will be distributed. MY BELONGINGS. Things that were promised to me. Momentos from my childhood that my mom saved for me. Antique furniture that I collected from historic places. And he plans on going scorched earth on everything. That I am just not allowed to lay eyes on. Even saying that he wants to go through photo albums that were made for each of us. That no one gets to take any photos just because it's a photo of that person.

There are deep seeded issues from our childhood and family dynamics that were nothing short of dysfunctional. I get that. But his way of dealing with things was to always be the martyr. Painting a picture for anyone on the outside that HE was the only one caring for my parents, HE was saddled with the house the shared after they died. This was a hell of his own making, and then he gets to light a match, walk away and STILL be the victim. But his beloved items are safe and intact.

I have sat here and tried my damnedest to try to get Rick to understand the neverending grief. Grief over losing my parents and grandmother within 18 months. The grief of a miscarriage that NO ONE knew about because my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and I HAD TO shove my own heartache to the backburner to be the main caretaker. The countless friends who have past. The fact that I have been in a transient state for FIVE years, moving from place to place, each move meaning having to leave pieces of me behind.

This is the last major piece to be dealt with. And I am being robbed of the ability to deal with MY belongings in my own way.

We are just at a point as a family that we were mending fences, even with me forgiving my youngest brother, whose addiction to pills and mental health issues took a monumental toll on all of us. Setting everything aside and being expected to be the bigger person.

I want to burn it all to the ground. I was told years ago that I should have gotten a lawyer involved to handle my parent's estate. I backed off the idea of lawyering up to save whatever was left of our family. Even after he took control of bank accounts and my parent's life insurance. Divvying out a mere three thousand dollars to me and my daughter, after my mother had told me she set aside enough money for me to put a hefty down payment on a house.

Now it is affecting me in terms of my relationship with Rick, because that's about the only good thing I have in my life. And even we are having heated discussions about this now.

Grief on grief on grief. I get ahead and start feeling happy and stable and someone or something comes along and has to punch me back down.

Everything in me longs to move away to Seattle. To cut contact. My mom would be broken hearted.