Yesterday morning I woke up at 5 am with a wicked migraine. After numbing myself with medication it stayed as a dull throb behind my right eye, but I had already started to feel nauseous. The weather was so beautiful and so cool I wished I felt better physically. But I didn't and I found myself too ill to try to do anything until almost 3 pm. By that time dark angry clouds were coming over the Sierra Blanca, but they brought no rain.
My trip to TR's to get a racing program for my boss had me sitting outside the store so physically ill I didn't know how to get into that store or out again without vomiting. There are times gagging is so bad my throat feels like razor blades have been playing skip rope right behind my tongue and down my throat.
My step father died of emphysema. A designing engineer for British Jeffrey Diamonds for 35 years he had to be one of the most honest, honorable and intelligent human beings I have ever met. A lot of the machinery used in American mines.. he designed. Up until his death his mind was as sharp as anytime in his life. He was trapped in a dying body.
I couldn't imagine the sheer horror of having full faculties, of wanting to do things but not having the physical ability to do so.
Today I am starting to understand more than I want to.
As a woman being left homeless by a convicted felon is perhaps the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced for many reasons. It's not the silent crashing of your life around you. A career in shambles. It's not the fractured family, loved ones you can't see. It's not health problems or financial problems. It's not the loss of self esteem and self worth as you beg for someone, anyone, to stop this madness. It's not the gossip and lying borne from bored people who want to embroider stories that are not true. It's not any one of those particular things.. it's the whole package. It's everything compounded. It's being told that I am right behind the eight ball, with thieves holding the money they stole from us, and not one person cares.
This morning I woke up still with the dull pain behind my eyes but no longer feeling nauseous. Prayerfully rain will come today.. we need it in the worst way. Lord, let it rain.
Someone related to Robert & Sylve Huckins must have some means to reach them, if it be Michael Huckins, Dr.Kenneth Ogilvie ( Diana Huckins? Dominic Huckins? Malcolm Huckins? ) or Patricia Ogilvie-Huckins and get them to return ALL of the money they stole from us. I, like those victims who came before me, have been dragged through a living hell and I simply beg for your mercy.
I can't obtain a home until Robert Huckins returns the money he stole from us that was to buy a home, and I can't remain homeless.
Had he given the money back when he promised the white collar crime investigators I wouldn't be making this plea today. Had he never stolen our building fund I wouldn't be making this plea today.
But he pushes the abuse and torment to an extent where no alternatives are offered.
Today Robert Huckins has his own home...
He also has OUR home.....
He also has a lot of people's money...
And his freedom.
No women should be abused to this degree. I am homeless and I want to see my mum and return to my career, so I won't stop asking if I have to ask every single day until I die. Robert Huckins gave no-one an alternative, so I plead with sincerity for your mercy and intervention.
Criminal: A person with predatory instincts who has not sufficient capital to form a corporation. ~ Howard Scott.
