I. Can't. Do. This.

[verushka70]

So I've got to get my mother's apartment cleaned out so we can rent it because the property taxes come out in September and there's not enough money left in the life insurance to both pay for her funeral, pay for the work on the house that needs to be done, AND pay for the taxes.

And, like, no one is helping me. My one older sister doesn't work at all. Theoretically this would have given her ample time to help me. But no. She came over to help for 3.5 hours. And I've been waiting for everyone else to come help, because I don't want to be the one who decided to throw away so-and-so's fifth grade whatever that my mom saved for 40 years. I just don't want all that on my head, the deciding what to keep, what to toss, what to sell/donate.

My younger sister lives in Wisconsin, so she came down Saturday and part of Sunday and helped. But.

This is 40 years of stuff. My parents moved in here in 1969. My dad's stuff either was taken by him, given to him, or trashed after it sat in the basement and garage for 10 years after my parents divorced (except for the stuff my mother secretly saved, which I've only just recently discovered, ow).

My brother? Drove my younger sister to the house after having lunch with her. And left. Didn't even come in. Totally can not deal.

My oldest sister gets in tonight from her vacay in BC, more specifically, kayaking around Victoria Island. But... she relates to this house, and my mom, about as well as my brother. Which is, not. Very.

I'm not holding anything against anybody. I completely understand. My parents' marriage was a shithole and my dad was a brutal tyrant through all of my formative years, and theirs too. They, unlike me, associate the memories with the place. For whatever reason -- probably because I moved back here but took the 2nd floor apartment, which has the exact same layout as my mom's except missing one door -- I no longer associate the memories with the place. They're inside me, and I know they'll always be there (until someone invents some kind of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" for childhood), but they're not tied to a particular location. Nevertheless, I do grasp how place can hold emotion... emotions preferably left unremembered and not re-felt. Re-feeled. Whatever.

But... that leaves it all on me. When I'm not crying over old things I never thought my mom would've saved, hesitating over whether something should go in the "save, but store," "save, but keep with me," "give to C----/N---/J----/C---- because Mom wanted them to have it" or "donate/give away/estate sale" pile, or mindlessly emptying years-old, long-unread magazines and professional journals into the recycling bin again and again... I'm paralyzed, looking at whatever room I'm in, all the stuff in it, stuff, and furniture, and mementoes, and photos, and tchotchkes, and collectibles that may or may not be worth anything, feeling completely incapable, not up to the task, and wishing there was some way to preserve everything and leave it exactly the way it is, and have a virtual empty apartment inside my mom's apartment -- if this can work theoretically in quantum and string theory, why not this? -- so everything can stay exactly the way it is and I don't have to go through this, but we can still rent the virtual apartment and get the rent money we need to make the gas, electric, water, and tax bills on the house.

Fuck.

Comments

[spuffyduds.livejournal.com]

Oh honey. I'm so sorry you're getting stuck with this, it's pretty terrible even when you have help.

[verushka70.livejournal.com]

Thanks for commenting. Yes, this sucks pretty bad. *sigh*

[grey853.livejournal.com]

{{{{Hugs}}}}

It sounds overwhelming and I'm so sorry that others aren't pitching in to help more.

[verushka70.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I wish they would help but I understand why they don't/can't. But.

[songfire3.livejournal.com]

{{{HUGS}}} I'm so sorry you have to deal with this all on your own!

[verushka70.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Yes, this sucks very much. *sigh*

Lovely icon, though, btw.

[akamine_chan]

This weekend I just started going through the very large storage unit that I stored all the household possessions from my parents' house. It was...painful, but afterward I felt relieved and lighter.

I have a friend who's helping me, one that doesn't let me get sucked back down into this well of memories when I run across clothes that my mother had painstakingly made and worn for years. Because every box I unpack is like a bear-trap, waiting to be sprung by some unsuspecting person, releasing a flood of sensory images - smells and tastes and textures that linger on from my childhood.

I went back today, with my friend, working on more boxes. The memories are just as strong, just as wrenching, but followed by relief. I can do this.

I have the advantage of time; it's been many years since my mother passed away, and the years are quickly sliding by on my father's passing.

I can only offer the comfort, such as it is, of internet hugs and the reassurance that it does get easier, with time.

[verushka70.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much, aka. I'm not sure why it helps to know someone else is going through the same or similar shit, but it does.

Also. I would've replied to your very sad entry of last week, but you had turned off replying, and I figured that meant you just wanted to express the lousy feelings without hearing anything back, because. Well. Sometimes one just wants to do that. So I didn't private message you, either. Feel like an ass, now, since apparently about a million other people did and you felt better as a result.

Believe me, I know the horror of being in a job you hate and feeling so very stuck there, to the point that even doing something to get unstuck (like working on a resume) seems pointless. I probably never would have left my old job because. The fear. Of change. And thinking, who the fuck's gonna hire me? Probably the best thing that happened to me at that job was they gave me a terminal contract and laid me off. I had wanted to get out of the job and the field for a while, but probably would have taken another 5 years to do it on my own. So I went back to school, took prereqs for nursing, got into nursing school, survived that, and finally became a nurse. The whole thing took 4 years, but I don't hate my job anymore.

So, hang in there. Something will probably happen to get you out of that job, even if you can't quite muster the action to do it yourself. Things have a way of ...knowing they need to happen, somehow. And they do. At least sometimes. Or so it seems.

[akamine_chan]

Feel like an ass, now, since apparently about a million other people did and you felt better as a result.

Ah, no, no.

I turn off commenting because I usually feel like I'm being whiny and selfish and it's extremely difficult for me to accept support. Give it, sure, no problem, here I am. Accepting support and love and internet hugs and the like - not so easy for me.

Those that know me the best and know this about me, they get mad at me when I turn of commenting and send me support and reassurance anyway, either through email, IM or PM. Sometimes even through snail mail.

You and I are just getting to know each other and so I don't expect you to know that about me. And I certainly don't hold it against you, or anyone else who didn't send me some kind of message. Which was the majority of my flist.

Only a handful of people did that, but you know, it only took one to make me feel better. Everything else was overkill, but gratefully accepted nonetheless.

Thanks for sharing your story about your job. I'm working on getting out of this job, it just takes a little bit of work, and some time. I just get very frustrated sometimes and it's hard to deal with...

As for the rest, you'll get through it. In my mind, it should be easier because you have family but it doesn't always work that way. Just do the best you can and take care of yourself, too.

[verushka70.livejournal.com]

Ok. Thanks.