Not a good day today. I am exhausted and in excruciating pain. More-so today than most days.Not the type of tired that you feel after working hard, but the type when you have done all you could do and the emotional torture won't end. When you are physically, financially, emotionally and spiritually beaten to a bloody pulp.
It poured down with rain for the better part of the night. The cold damp, and flooding, inside this shed made it pretty miserable.During the night my body started to "stove up" with the cold damp. My neck, spine, hips, knee's and ankles, all around the bone tumors, were virtually useless except anything but being considered devices of torture. By sun-up through a very hard day when I finally walked into the shed at 4.30 pm I just couldn't move without tears running down my face because of the pain.
I so need a warm home, and those who could return the stolen building fund refuse to do so. This is being betwixt the devil and the deep blue sea.
My youngest daughter is having a fairly serious operation tomorrow. The same daughter who is suffering from MRSA, osteomyelitis. But I have to take my boss to Las Cruces for minor dental work so I am praying that I can get enough sleep, and it is warm enough, not to leave me as crippled as I have been today.
4 years ago we had plans to open a riding program for those with special needs, but Huckins put an end to those dreams when he stole the funds for the house and horse barn.
Today at the Lazy J Jan again approached the subject of the program, and asked me to get the paperwork back together and see what could be done about saving the dream even if I could not save my part of it.We sat discussing the physical damages a body can sustain while trying to survive homeless, and I had to admit that I truly don't know what I can do anymore. When you become so ill physical activity is not something you can guarantee. I dare not even dream anymore. I dare not even look further than this very minute because if I only had the Bassel-Hagens disease to handle it would be one thing, but the chest pains, migraines, stress, anxiety added to bitter cold nights doesn't give me hope - or desire - to even open my eyes tomorrow.
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.
Worthless people live only to eat & drink; people of worth eat & drink only to live. ~Socrates
