Hi everyone. You may recall my post from last week about moving in with my mom. Yes, apparently it's happening today.
Last week I told my sister that 1 week is not enough time to move nearly 3 years worth of stuff that is scattered around the house, and she agreed. So I thought they were giving me at least another week. Her husband would not talk with me about it, pretty much avoiding me. So it's reasonable to assume that I had another week, right? Especially since my brother in law told me (when I forced a "let's talk" moment) that what he was "most concerned about" was my boxes of stuff in the basement, not the stuff in my bedroom. I told him that I can't take that stuff with me because there isn't any storage space at my mom's house, so I'd have to see if my dad would let me store it at his house or if dad would pay for a storage space. This is the extent of our conversation last night. I was very ill and pretty much coughed myself to sleep.
Cut to 1 o'clock this afternoon, and I am informed that I need to get my stuff in boxes because I am moving today. Uh, what?! So I just took the last few hours frantically shoving all my belongings into boxes willy nilly, because there's no time for organization. I am beyond livid that they a) gave me a week to pack everything up, which is not reasonable, b) were making plans with my mom about me moving and didn't think to let me in on the conversation, and c) refused to communicate with me in any reasonable way. My sister told me in January that she wanted me to be moved out by march, and i was fine with thst, but she didn't specify when, even when we were in the midst of march. I communicated this to my sister about an hour ago, and she told me that since it was march, I " should have been packing up for the past few weeks" which I was doing, but it's really hard to do that when you have no idea WHEN you're moving. Especially when you're still using a lot of the stuff that needs to be packed.
So that's me right now. Sitting here being unbelievably pissed off, listening to my breath sounds crackle (I think I might have pneumonia) and waiting for my mom to get here so I can throw my bedding in a plastic bin. I don't ever want to speak to my sister or her husband again, and I'm really, really pissed off at my mom too. For them to decide my fate without allowing me a say is really fucked up. Being broke and jobless = powerlessness and being treated like a child. They keep discussing me behind my back, and really, if you have something to say you may as well say it to me because I have strangely good hearing and can hear you whispering about me in the kitchen.