Monday, July 18, 2011
1,200 Days And Nights
Today is Nelson Mandela day. I doubt that I could write anything about Nelson Mandela that hasn't been written a million times before, by far better writers than myself. I deeply admire this man, and all his accomplishments despite the adversity he faced. I honor him this day.I wish I was the right type of a personality to get mad, have a temper tantrum, scream and shout... be angry. But I'm not. I take all feelings, stresses, fears and hide them away. Once in a while I may get short with someone who is hounding me or being difficult, but it takes an awful lot to get a reaction out of me. Someone has to be insufferable for me to react. When under stress I internalize it.
For the past 1,200 days and nights I have faced a veritable nightmare each time I opened my eyes, and it's dogged me through each day. For the first two years it was court trials and investigations, frantically trying to locate the stolen building fund. The rest of the time it's been trying to find the stolen building fund or circumvent that need by finding another route. Trying to do the impossible.
As yet I have not heard a word about the electrical problems, so I don't know if it's going to be possible to get electricity to the land with the finances I have. The fear of not being able to get a home and get our lives back together is making me into a nervous wreck and I can't find relief.
On Saturday afternoon the minimum monthly payment allowed by the court arrived. $450 and some change. It is an absolute travesty of justice, an insult to injury for it doesn't change our situation in the least. My health is so bad that in an attempt to stop the migraines and chest pains yesterday I made the decision that for 24 hours I would refuse to think about, or worry about our home and barn. I was going to take Sunday off work, relax, catch up on sleep, watch a movie - and never even allow myself to think of a home and barn, my mother, my career, the economy or anything else that would bring on those awful chest pains and migraines. I prayed that it would rain to give me an excuse to take time to stop fretting and worrying, but the rain didn't come despite the clouds that came over the Sierra Blanca.
Still, it actually went quite well. Each time my mind wondered back to the land, the house or anything else I went for a walk and focused on something else. Until daylight went and I tried to watch a movie and fall asleep..
I have now been awake for 24 hours. No matter how much I tried too fall asleep the night terrors, chest pains and migraine returned with a vengeance,and the damp weather made it terribly cold.
1,200 days is an unGodly length of time to allow any woman to be homeless, frantically trying to locate a stolen building fund in a recession. Yet I understand that I have not gone through a fraction of the sheer unadulterated torment that Dorothy McKeever was put through by Robert Huckins and the judicial system. When you add up the pain and suffering that so many women were subjected to it is simply incomprehensible ... and inexcusable, and the mere thought that a builder can steal the only home women own, yet be allowed to live in comfort in his own home should make us cringe with shame.Again I plead to the family members of Robert Huckins to intervene. If that be Michael Huckins, Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie ( Diana Huckins? Dominic Huckins? Malcolm Huckins? ) or Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins. If you would be caring enough, and humane enough to do so, please make your brother, son, cousin return the entire building fund he stole from us so that I can buy a home. I simply can't go on homeless. It is already July 2011 and my nerves are in shambles after over 3 years of hell that should never have been allowed. I am devastated at the loss of my mother, my career, our home. I am totally lost at who else to turn to because everything else has failed. You are my last hope. All I want is what we have paid honest money for, a home. So that this nightmare can be ended and we can get our family back together again - I beg for your mercy for there is no way I can survive any more of this.
They hang the man and flog the woman, Who steals the goose from off the common, Yet let the greater villain loose, who steals the common from the goose. ~ 17th century English protest rhyme