When one has to struggle during prayer time to not cuss, one probably will be unable to type a complete post without profanity, something I find mightily offensive anyway.
To be robbed by people you love and have taken care of no matter how they have responded and treated the naive parent in return, to have something valuable with irreplaceable pictures, writings, info, my quicken checkbook, budget spreadsheets, social security numbers, college financial applications and essays, goals, and plans... one's right hand which is my laptop computer stolen from one's house while one is at church...I am really struggling right now with my feelings.
I had another couple of hundred dollars taken, money given to me by someone for me to put into my children's savings account. I know who did both things and I am trying not to be consumed by negative animosity while they continue to lie to me about stealing.
I cried Sunday night so hard that I had a nosebleed, first ever in my life.
I cried so hard Monday, down by the dried up creek deep in the woods with my five dogs, that I thought my head would explode. Good then I could just go to Heaven and be free, but then I'd miss my good kids which is most of them.
I cried so hard last night that a teacher dropping by must have wondered what on earth was wrong with this blubbering idiot whose face was swollen like a big, red balloon...she, however, was much too polite to ask.
That was my second stolen laptop in a year plus that IPOD that Daniel had gotten free for me when we'd ordered something else. I've had over a thousand dollars in cash stolen over the last ten years, considering that I rarely keep cash on hand, that's a remarkable feat for lying, manipulative thieves who don't care if I then can't buy groceries for the other children.
Maybe some kids are absolutely too incorrigible to be in families? Maybe there is no hope; maybe I'm putting myself in an early grave, all for nothing?
I cannot re-create the stolen info - I've lost that data on a password protected computer that means nothing to the back-stabbing thief who calls me mom.
Are they just trying to kill me little by little?
I had to call the elementary school, ask them to get Tony out of class to give me the password to the Bubba computer so that I could type this post.
If this post is too bitter for any starry-eyed optimists like I once was, then I apologize. I'm just continuing to keep it real. This is why I deliberately waited a few days before posting. Maybe I should have waited longer?
I've gone from crying into a very deep anger.