Way Past Exhausted

Disclaimer: This post contains Amazon Affiliate Links. 

What do you do when you had enough? When you so tired, that you hate going to sleep because you won't sleep long and you hate waking up because you know nothing hasn't changed? Is this life worth living, despite all the obstacles? What is my purpose for being here, other than cooking, cleaning, parenting and fixing/repairing stuff?

"More to this life. More than living and dying. More than trying to make it through the day. More to this life. More than my eyes alone can see. There is more in this life, I long to be". Steven Curtis Chapman. Signs of Life album. More to this life. 

"There is a joy. There is a peace, that makes this life complete. For every man, woman, boy, and girl, looking for Heaven in the real world."

Waking up to Brad hitting the walls, doors, and windows. Waking up to him throwing the dirty clothes or the dirty clothes bin. Standing on the semi-broken love chair to hit the walls and the ceilings, higher. Hitting the stove hood and slamming the fridge door. Picking up dirty diapers, he tossed in corners and on top of clothes, drying. 

Standing over me, while I am sleep, like a psycho, waiting to scream, "I want phone" as soon as my eyes open. Turning on all the lights in the house to alert me of his presence, I guess. Pulling the covers off me and Kalen, while we are sleep. 

The other day, he was throwing dishes and threw the dirty clothes bin at me. I'm glad I caught it before he broke the living room window, the 5th time. Even if you give him, his meds, as soon as you get up at whatever random time, he wakes up, the behavior continues. My anxiety continues. My depression continues. Loneliness continues. Tears continue and I hate crying. 

He is going to put us out of another apartment, I just know it. People don't want to rent to special needs families, in Houston, at least when I called around, after I got the note on my last apartment door, about not renewing our lease. All I can do is clean, declutter, and repair small items, until the day happens. I don't need to take all this clutter with me to another apartment. I am not sure if I want Brad to live with us in the next apartment, but the City of Houston does not want people with severe autism in residential centers, temporary or permanent,  because Autism is not treatable or curable. He is not potty-trained either, which is another reason for disqualification. 

The downstairs neighbor, across from us, moved a few weeks ago. Was it because of Brad? Yesterday, I saw one of the former upstairs neighbors put groceries in a different apartment in a different building? Was it because of Brad? Will management ask us to leave in January, when our lease is up? How is that fair to Kalen--if we have to move--at the beginning of a new semester to a new apartment in maybe a new school? I can't go back to all virtual because of my mental health. 

How is it fair to me to keep fixing and repairing new and old wall holes, Brad has re-opened? To wake up at various times during the night to try and calm him down. To keep fixing furniture, he has broken. Yesterday, I learned a new skill, involving Kalen. I untwisted the pipes in the bathroom, to remove things, he has thrown down the sink, like corn kernels, a ball, and the sink stopper. 

I learned how to fix holes with sheetrock and a power drill, this year, because of Brad. Many thanks to my poetry buddy, Rodney, for helping me with tips and techniques, I needed. I fixed the wobbly dining room table with a bunch of screws, the other week. Still wobbly but not as wobbly. I have screwed and re-screwed the stove hood, back in multiple times. Brad also broke the tv antenna. Glad I had back up, even though I struggled to find where it was, in the closet. 

GOD ARE YOU FUCKING LISTENING BECAUSE I HAD ENOUGH. 

I am done.  I quit. I am ready to sign over my guardianship to whoever wants him. Let him eat up all their food and destroy their homes. Destroy them mentally. 

I FUCKING HATE CORONA

His behavior got worse, when he realized he wasn't going back to school after spring break and it went super downhill fast. He hasn't hit walls constantly in years, but it started back. He put more holes in the walls than he did at the last apt and my mama's former home. He broke more furniture in a shorter time period. 

I just wanted some nice furniture, not from the dumpster. I been afraid to get newer pieces because I knew it wouldn't last long. Nice table and 5 chairs from the furniture bank. He broke the base from the stand on the table (which is why it is wobbly) and broke all 5 chairs. I do have a corner of broken dumpster chairs, I am scared to fix because Brad may break them or throw them towards me, Kalen, or through the window, including 2 nice metal chairs. He broke the arm off the 3 seater sofa and I had to toss it out. He put holes in the back of the dresser. He also broke off half of one of the drawer fronts. Forgive me for wanting a nice place to put winter clothes, instead of in space bags. I finally got the dryer fixed, Brad broke, but now need the belt replaced and struggling to find someone to fix it, even on Craigslist and Nextdoor. 

I had to flip the love seat over to keep Brad from standing on it to hit the ceiling and knock the texture off. I flipped it back over, weeks ago, to clean under it, and the arm came apart from being flipped over. The mini arm railings also came off. If I flip it back over, I am not sure that I can fix it with my drill. So I am leaving it right-side up until he breaks it for good. 

I can't have anything. I guess I am not deserving since it ends up broken. Since Corona, I have bought a new phone because Brad broke it; a new computer because Kalen cracked the screen and it stopped working; Brad got a new tv because Kalen knocked it over. I still need to put up the towel bar, Brad knocked down, but I keep misplacing what I did with the brackets. I found a dumpster door (bedroom) but I put it on the bathroom (he broke original bedroom and bathroom door) for a bit of privacy until I get a new door. Rodney also told me about Habitat for Humanity's stores, which sell cheaper doors. I am not ready to pay $150 to the complex for Brad to break it a 2nd time. 

His elopement also continues. I can't walk to the store with the kids. I can't take out the trash if Brad is woke. I can't walk to the laundry room to wash my blankets and floor rug. Both are too big for the portable's spin cycle. I can't go to the mailbox without bribery or a ride from my mother or niece. I'm done. I am not the right parent for this job. 

One of the tiny homes, I love on Amazon. I would make a few mods but it is small and simple. 

I just want a nice, small home, I don't have to worry about being put out of because of Brad. A table and four chairs for speech therapists and counselors when they visit (no seating was one of the biggest complaints at my last place). A side by side fridge with padlock so I can have more variety of foods for the kids to eat. A house without holes in walls and peeled off texture. A house with intact doors. I also need sleep, good sleep, for the first time since March, and a 3 day break from both kids for my sanity.