And Still I Cry

What a day. What a day. The truth that one has been so completely and thoroughly  betrayed is a very tough truth with which to come face to face. That is where I have been today. If I had been a bad person, I could see, maybe a little, how I could have ended up in this situation. But I haven't been. Not anything that warranted being used, emotionally abused and financially abused by my husband. The person who was supposed to love, honor and cherish me. No, instead he lied, stole from me and simply used me.

Simply put, I married a con artist. I guess I shouldn't feel too bad since he apparently fooled a couple of mental health professionals, too.

But I do feel bad because this is my life.  They just failed with respect to a client.

One of the big mysteries of my marriage is how I could have spent nearly $200,000 rehabbing a house and still have not a single room with baseboards, no master bath (the plumbing is unfinished, and thus, the drywall not up), all but one door having not been stained and our daughter's bedroom remains unfinished. I say "I" because I am the only one who worked.  This is a house I purchased 9 years ago this November. My husband found it and thought it would make a good investment property. Then 2008 happened. I carried this place while he worked on it from 2004 through 2009. Never finished it. I kept having to come up with more and more money to pay for the work. The costs kept running over his projections. We finally moved in in 2009 even though the house is not finished.  I have lived like this for 4 years. This is what my children know as normal.

At times, I used to wonder if he was trying to knock me down a few pegs. I certainly did not grow up lavishly by any means, but I would say I grew up solidly middle class. By the time I was in college (an education my mother paid for) I'd say my mother's income put her in the upper middle class. And she is now quite comfortably in the upper middle class. She loaned us $80,000 of what was spent, not to mention other gifts she gave here and there like our $4,000 staircase.

I'm not a big home decorator type. I had little involvement in the design of the home except for certain things about which I felt strongly. In fact there were only two things I wanted in the house: 1) a laundry chute, but, structurally, that couldn't work and 2) a claw foot tub. I enjoy taking baths. Something I haven't done in years. In my condo, the tub was so shallow that while I tried to labor in it, my cousin had to pour water over my belly because it could not be submerged. And I think that in this house I just can't bring myself to bathe in the kids' tub because it is not my claw foot. How is it that the only thing I wanted goes in the only space in this house which is completely unfinished?

In any event, my husband had led me to believe that the cost of putting up trim was rather costly.  I suppose it is  if you are buying fine woods from a lumber yard and then attempting to put the profile on it yourself.  You need wood and new blades for your table saw for that trick.

He lied.

Today, I found myself crying in the aisles of Home Depot. When I saw that the cheapest trim is less than $1.00/ft, I literally broke down in tears. How could we be living like this when the cost of the materials is so low? Yes, you can also pay $14/ft. What I want is less than $5/ft.  And it is solid wood.

And lest one think this is just about the house looking nice, it's not. Since moving in here, our daughter has developed some very trying sinus problems. The first winter we were here, after her 4th round of antibiotics, I began to think that whatever problem she was experiencing, it was not going to be cured with antibiotics. Something else was going on. She had mucus coming out her nose that you could pull like spaghetti, or a shoe string. I had never seen anything like it. We took her to her pediatrician, her chiropractor, a new chiropractor and finally had a full allergy test done on her.

THIS HEALTH ISSUE BEGAN NEARLY 4 YEARS AGO FOR HER!!  She is just seven and has given up on the notion of being able to smell and breathe normally.

Turns out she is allergic to trees, grass, dust, almonds and has a mild allergy to cats. Well, the girl loves the outdoors and had never had any problems. We'd had a cat since before she was born and never had any problems. What she hadn't been exposed to was the dust that comes off of unfinished drywall; the dust from insulation which escapes from the walls when you have no baseboards. What's worse was he was using the room next to where she sleeps as a wood shop. There were piles of saw dust thigh high.  The room was a disaster and looked like something out of a Hoarders episode.

Your daughter is allergic to trees and you literally keep piles of them in the room next to where she sleeps?  Really?

Your daughter is allergic to dust and you care more about maintaining the facade that you are needed in this house to finish the work by refusing to finish it and creating a health issue for her in the process?  Really?

I married a truly sick SOB.

Oh, but wait, there's more.

After Home Depot, with tears in my eyes, I pulled off and headed home.  This past Saturday, through my dear co-worker and friend, J, I had a contractor out to my house to survey the damage.  After walking someone through this, I had begun to feel angry all over again.  I prayed that I would be able to afford to get some of the stuff done. Get baseboard up in at least some of the rooms.  Trim out the windows in Coco's room and finish the closet so that she can have her own finished space. I also need tile in the entryway.  There is only this horrible industrial rug which does not completely cover the plywood on the floor.  Oh, yes, my entry way screams, "Welcome Home!!"  The contractor called me yesterday and said he would drop off the estimate today.  Well, it was waiting in my mailbox.

I looked at it and then the floodgates opened.

$1300.

$1300 measly dollars to pay for the labor to put baseboard in all of the rooms in my house.  To lay flooring in the entryway.  To trim out the windows in my daughter's bedroom and finish the closet there.  To apply finish to all the doors that need it.

And there was my confirmation that my husband had stolen from me.  It is clear to me now that he padded the figures he gave me to line his pockets.  He paid for everything he could in cash.  He never gave me a reconciliation of the expenses.  Never.  No matter how many times I asked.  And lest you think I'm just stupid, I did carry and birth two children (and miscarry two others) during this time period as well as work full time as an attorney with a not insignificant job and responsibilities.  And oh, yeah, I didn't realize I should be considering my husband is a lying thief.  And Lord knows I didn't want to face that reality.

I called my dad and vented to him.  I called my girl and really broke down.  A little while later, I left to pick up the kids.  But, before I could get into the car, I ran into my neighbor who went to high school with my husband and who was aware of some things of which I was not.  And boy did I get an earful. That will have to wait for another day.

J was right.  I had no idea what I have been through.  What I had been carrying.  No.idea.

And, so,  yeah, still I cry.  And I could really use a hug.

It is in this space that I allow myself the rare indulgence of returning to some special words once written just for me and a special song long since removed from a deleted playlist, and remember a brief opportunity to experience true love and get as close as I can to that hug.