Bio - 47 in My Bio

Written in 2012

2012 turned out to be one of our best years, though it came with significant losses. This time, it wasn’t about financial or material loss—it was about death. I find myself almost wondering who might be next.

On February 24th, my father passed away. Then, on September 23rd, my mother followed. On October 15th, my beloved Italian foster mom died, and on December 21st, my brother Larry succumbed to liver cancer.

We also lost two pet rats—first Tinkerboy, then a baby rat we’d adopted to keep Romeo, Tink’s replacement, company. Sugar has since joined us to fill Julien’s place.

In January, Nane and I reconciled and I’m in touch with her, others I’ve mentioned, as well as Becky and Maria from Valleyhead.

In the spring, Tom secured a new job with excellent pay and benefits, even though the hours are tough. With this stability, I was finally able to address my dental needs, getting cavities filled and a bridge to replace a tooth I’d lost back in Oregon.

June brought an unexpected shock: Kim proved to be worse than Molly in some ways. I’d known she was a bit odd and not particularly sharp, but I never anticipated she’d turn into a relentless stalker. Alison and I both cut ties with her. While she’s left Alison alone—likely because Alison has since joined the FBI—she continues to target me anonymously on a question-and-answer site.

Kim’s excessive behaviors and repetitive questions were always annoying, but what truly disturbed me was her lack of empathy and respect. Her fascination with celebrities and role-playing, something we were aware of, became problematic when she started impersonating celebrities on sites like Twitter. This was more than just fondness—it was an obsession. When confronted, she would immediately deny it, deactivate her account, and become highly defensive—a classic guilty reaction, as Aly observed.

Aly suspected that Kim was anonymously asking her rude and personal questions on the question site as well. When I realized Kim was likely behind it, based on her activity on the site, she reacted as she usually did when caught and called out: she blocked me on Facebook. I thought that would be the end of it, but I was wrong. Confronting her only caused her to follow and bully us everywhere.

If I’d known that confronting her would provoke this crap, I’d have quietly distanced myself as Aly did. I now see that the woman I once considered a friend held a hidden resentment toward me—and likely toward others as well. Gone are any feelings of sympathy for her and I can see why her older sister has custody of her. She likely has some form of retardation.

Kim has now resorted to pestering me under anonymity, reaching out not just as celebrities but as people Aly and I actually know. Though her questions are often harmless and casual, the fact that she won’t respect my requests to leave me alone is deeply troubling. It’s even more bothersome when she tries to contact Andy. He may not mind, but I do. I’ve had to keep my Facebook friends list hidden and restrict my profile to friends only for privacy so they don’t end up being harassed just for being connected to me.

Molly now lives in a group home and may have issues, but she’s only ever been Molly. Molly seldom contacts me and doesn’t hide behind anonymity.

After four years of dealing with Molly and seven months of Kim, I wonder how much longer this will continue. If Molly becomes problematic again, I could potentially report her to her group home. But with Kim, there’s no one to hold accountable except herself.

With my parents’ deaths came a newfound resentment toward them that surpasses anything I’ve ever felt. Their masks were stripped away, and the false “wealthy” image they tried so hard to project was exposed when it was discovered that my mother—likely without my father’s knowledge—had gone on a credit card spree in their final years. Maybe they were never truly wealthy, but they were quite comfortable most of their lives, and they could’ve done more to help me if they’d cared enough. When I saw photos of their beautiful condo, I felt more resentment than happiness for them. They lived well while my husband and I struggled in a rundown trailer, even though we worked as hard—if not harder—to get ahead.

When they rescued us from homelessness in 2007, I was immensely grateful, feeling almost as if I owed them my life despite their past treatment. But as time went on, I realized they hadn’t always been there for me when I truly needed them. Yes, they helped in 2007, but where were they when I needed rescuing from institutions like Brattleboro Retreat or Valleyhead? Or when I was living in poverty on disability and food stamps in the slums?

In the end, Dad’s heart gave out as we’d expected it might someday, and shortly afterward, my mother suffered a stroke and lost the will to live. They were both cremated, but I refused my mom’s ashes. I cried a little when Dad passed but didn’t shed a tear for Mom or Larry, nor will I ever.

Have you ever suddenly come to a realization about something? For years, I’d wondered whether she gave me up or if the State took me away. Then, out of the blue one day, the answer hit me as I thought back on my last morning at home before the State took over. She gave me up. That’s why she was so determined to get me up for school and out to the bus that morning, even though I insisted I didn’t feel well.

Once I got older, more mature, and able to see her for who she truly was, it all made sense. Her behavior aligned with everything I’d come to understand about her; after all, she never wanted me around to begin with.

Anyway, their vehicle, store, and condo were recently sold off, bit by bit. Despite their shortcomings, it was sad to see parts of their lives being sold one by one. I may receive a small inheritance, though nothing near what they’d led me to expect over the years. I’ve had my hopes dashed about money before, but this time will be the last.

I assumed I would drift away from my remaining family entirely after my parents’ deaths, but life doesn’t always go as expected. Surprisingly, Tammy and I have grown closer, and I now keep in touch with two of my four nieces.

Jennifer has allowed her father’s lies to keep her away, Lisa has some serious issues, and I have a nephew I don’t know or care to know. Only God knows how many children Larry fathered before he passed—he was a bit of a ladies’ man. He married a 21-year-old named Stefanie, and they had a son named Jason. Most would agree that 21 is too young to have a child and 58 is too old, but that was Larry for you—a great sense of humor and quite a character.

Tammy and I have always been different in many ways, but enduring the same abusive upbringing has created a bond between us. She’s let me vent and cry, and she and her husband, Mark, plan to visit us soon.

Even my extended family has reached out. I’m now connected with cousins Philip, Sharyn, Michelle, and Norma on Facebook. My Aunt Ruth, Uncle Ronnie, and other cousins still ignore me, but that’s okay. I only want people in my life who truly want to be there, and I only want to be part of the lives of those who want me in theirs.

The hardest loss was Anne’s, my Italian foster mom. Though I only stayed with her briefly when I was 16, she and her husband, Harry, left a permanent, treasured mark on my heart. They were the parents I never had but always wished for.

The way I discovered Mom’s passing was almost surreal. She popped into my mind out of the blue one day, and I was flooded with memories and dreams of my time with her. I tried searching for her, but it was as if she had disappeared. I hoped that since I couldn’t find an obituary, she must still be alive. Deep down, though, I think I knew otherwise.

Later, while studying Italian, I realized I’d been misspelling her maiden and married names. When I searched again, I found her obituary and burst into tears. I was too late. She had passed peacefully at 81, surrounded by family. It was a bittersweet comfort to know she hadn’t suffered, and I was surprised to learn Harry was still alive. Unsure if he had an online presence at his age, I decided to write him a letter.

I regret not staying in touch and not having the chance to say goodbye. But the night before I discovered her obituary, I had a strong feeling—could it have been her spirit saying goodbye? Was it a psychic moment, or just a strange coincidence? Even one of the rats acted out of character, leaping from my arms as if suddenly startled by something unseen. Who knows if he sensed something I couldn’t. This wasn’t the first time someone popped into mind that I soon discovered recently passed.

Aside from a possible unexpected onset of menopause (I’m over two weeks late), Tom and I are in good health and are excited to buy a mobile home in a 55+ community this year!