Yesterday, as previously mentioned, was no fun for me. I spent more than 5 solid hours, cleaning out their room. I might not have bothered, but Brian needs a clean safe place to sleep.
I wished I had toxic waste sized rubber gloves. But seeing as I don't have any of those, I washed my hands a whole lot yesterday. First thing first, I pulled out our air mattress. To see if I could find the hole, and maybe hubby could patch it. Keeping in mind that it's practically new, I didn't want to just trash it.
Now, on the ride to rehab, Kirsten's mother asked her if she would like an air mattress for their room. Kirsten said yes. Mom said she would go buy her one. There was a pause, and then I said "we gave them an almost new air mattress when they got here. But it's deflated now." To which Kirsten says "Yeah, Asshole said it got a hole in it when it caught a nail on the wall, and we just couldn't find it, so I gave up."
So imagine my surprise when I pulled the thing out from all the crap on the floor to find a huge white "patch" job. Because, you know, they couldn't find the leak. So since that patch job obviously hadn't done the trick I started trying to pull it off. They had used an entire, brand new, tube of industrial strength glue, along with medical bandages, packing tape, one of my dish gloves (I was wondering where that went) and a whole roll of medical tape. The borrowed the glue from my husband a couple of weeks ago. But when he asked what they needed it for, they wouldn't say. If they had, he could have told them, that wasn't what they needed. It's the kind of glue that eats through soft plastic and other assorted things.
What did I find, after picking and peeling all that crap off of there... A nice big cigarette burn... straight through the top. So yeah, I bet the damn thing leaks. But these people have been so used to blaming things on everyone else, it doesn't even occur to them to tell the truth. Because of the patch job they did, the mattress is no longer fixable at all.
I did go through EVERYTHING that was in the room. Trash, dirty clothes mixed with clean. (I am now in the process of washing everything) Empty beer bottles. Cigarette burns in everything. I was trying to clean it up for Brian, and look for anything illegal.
While going through a large bag which contained her make up, a roach came out to say HI to me. I squealed, picked the bag up with 2 fingers, ran it through the house, and threw it out the front door. Oh HELL NO! My husband wants to know what I am going to say to her about the make up bag being outside. My first thought is 'If there was a roach in my bag I wouldn't want any of that shit.' So I said "I'll tell ya what, when she pays me back the hundred or so dollars for the air mattress they ruined, I will replace her make-up."
Yesterday was another day of shocking discoveries. Lets run through the list of fun stuff
The order of protection on Kirsten from her last roommate with an affidavit:
Kirsten was stealing from my house and I caught her. She came up behind me and hit me in the back of my head. Her foot tangled up with my foot and we both tumbled to the ground. I tried to get up and she had me by my hair. She had a knife in her hand and was trying to cut my face. I have cuts on my hands and arms trying to block her. She cut me a few times on my face and neck. I tried to hold her down. Her kids father started kicking me. Her 7 year old son was kicking me and swinging a metal pipe at me. My 6 year old son knocked it out of his hands. The police came but could not make her leave. My landlord tried to get her out by calling the police and she swung a bat at me and my son.
Well that sounds like a party.
I found out that Kirsten does have an open warrant. For what I am not sure. But she knows about it.
I found out that Asshole has, not 1 but 2 aliases that he uses. I found a copy of hospital ER papers with his first name and date of birth, but someone elses last name.
I found prescription receipts from 2 different doctors, one in Philly and the other in Jersey. I decided that Asshole is drug shopping, and that's how they have so many pills. Getting them from 2 different Doctors in 2 different states.
I found other peoples social security numbers.
3 other peoples social security medical benefit cards.
I found teenie tiny zipper bags... the kind drug dealers would use to package crack or heroin. Lots of them.
But what really pissed me off... after all that crap....
More drugs. I kind of suspected that the time she spent "detoxing" on my couch wasn't as miserable as she was claiming. I had a feeling that she was still high on something... After my, more thorough, search turned up drugs in her sons duffel bag, I became irate. She laid on that fucking couch for 4 days, treating me like shit, yelling about being miserable and being a basic pain in the ass. And I... let her get away with it, because I felt bad for her. When I really wanted to choke her. She all but blamed me for the way she felt. Trying to make me feel like shit. When in fact, we had not taken all of her drugs, and she knew it. I can't prove it, but I would bet a good amount of money that she was high the whole fucking time!!!
My husband does not want to deal with her anymore. I don't know what we are going to do now. He is over it. He wants her out. He doesn't want her to come back.
As for me... I don't understand. What is it that made you turn into such a piece of shit? What happened to you in your life that was so bad you had to become a drug addict? You think your special...? Oh boo hoo, you had a rough life. You think I didn't get the shit beat out of me on a daily basis until my biological mother became bored with me and gave me up to the state? I spent 6 years as a ward of the state, bouncing around to Psych wards and group homes and detention centers until I landed in foster care. You think I haven't had a crappy life? Don't you dare think that I didn't have a good idea about sex at a very young age, because I did. I was sexually abused as a small child, and sexually assaulted as a teenager. Don't you dare think that I haven't spent my fair share of time on the streets, because I have. And I have seen some shit in my life. You don't see me getting high to "deal" with my problems! I choose not to let those things, that I had no control over, that Other People did to me, rule me or dictate how I live my life. I realized early on that using those bad things as an excuse to pity myself, meant the abusers still had control over me. As far as I can tell, being the way you are is a choice. You choose to live like this. And the why... I just don't understand.