integrating's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I made it! 70's Classic Rock As usual I didn't read my last post to know what I said before. Dork. I moved out of my dad's house in Feb. He was vindictive, just like he does with anyone else that finally leaves him. He has a big truck and could've helped me move in about three days. He did not help me one bit. I fucked up my back surgery in Oct, so he knew I shouldn't have been lifting everything. He enjoys making people suffer. I was killing myself physically, having to take days off because I just couldn't do anymore. An hour there, load truck half-full because I couldn't reach the back when unloading. Found that out with the first load. Luckily this kid was walking by and offered to help. Sweet kid. I was hurting so bad and my dad kept bitching. Finally couldn't physically do anymore. Told him I would find somebody to help me, meaning the volunteers from a local church that helped me move my bed and kitchen table. I moved everything else. There was only a load left but there were two very heavy boxes I couldn't lift. He continues to bitch because that is the only way he could control me. It became frustrating because then he starts bitching about the people that were going to help me. Two or three times he said to me that I needed to call them and bitch. I was getting tired of telling him I couldn't lift those two boxes. One day I was kind enough to call him to remind him his food card would reload today. *sigh* He starts yelling the same shit. I got there and loaded all the boxes. Then I looked at those two ginormous boxes.( I used to be very strong. ) Out of sheer fury I went, took a deep breath and picked up that bitch and loaded it into the truck. The other one was heavier. Did the same with that one. Went into the house and told him I was leaving. Hour drive home, my back screaming. Got all the boxes out. Looked at those two fucking boxes. Someone was parked in my spot. I looked at the distance between me and the door for a minute. I did it again. Took a deep breath and prayed I'd make it to the door. Then the heavier one. I felt like crying. I really couldn't do it, but I had to. So I hefted that thing up and tried to walk as fast as I could. I was still about 10' from the door when the corner started ripping. OH FUCK So I bear-hugged that fucker and kept waddling to the door. Then I had to pull them down 6 stairs to my apartment. A little history on the building I live in. It was built in the 1800's and was originally a hotel. There are apartments in the basement, where I live and I think it's very cool. Then three levels above us. They still have the old fire escapes. Why did they stop using those? Stupid. We also have some playful little spirits that like to freak out my cat. LOL! Loving my apartment, my freedom, the quiet, hearing people out in the hallway, seeing people out of my kitchen window, everything is around the corner. 7:32 p.m. - 04.10.20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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