January 22, 2021
My thoughts tonight have drifted back to June 12, 2019. I am at the courthouse waiting to appear before the Probate judge because I filed a petition for guardianship of my father. My aunt, along with her - meddling husband - stroll in pushing my dad in a wheelchair. They don’t see me, so consider it safe to talk smack. I’m sitting just a few feet away, and I hear their whispers. My aunt says, “She signed in; she must be in the courtroom.” They walk right past the bench I’m sitting in and don’t hesitate to decimate my character. “You know she’s only doing this so she can spend your money.” Dad’s reply echoes through the hallway, “What goes around, comes around.”
One of the clerks calls my dad and his entourage into an office. A few minutes passes, and they come out of the office and go into the courtroom. I wait until the doors close behind them, and enter the courtroom myself. I seat myself in the row in front of them and kindly say, “Hello.” My aunt snaps, “Yeah” then glares at me with contempt. Up to this point, I’ve done nothing wrong, and she was well informed that I filed for guardianship.
Moments later, a clerk peers around the door and says something to my aunt. My aunt then calls me by my first name - I’ve gone by my middle name since birth - and says, “They need to talk to you.” I follow the woman into a small office, and she asks for my paperwork. “I don’t see the Objection.” She says. “This is all I have, was I supposed to have something else?” She prints the form for me, and I see it’s dated June 10, 2019. That’s just two days before the hearing! I read over the objections, and now I’m fuming. My anxiety is at a record-breaking high. I’m shaking, sweating and I want to throw up. I’m hurt, and I’d rather jump off a bridge than be anywhere near the cretins. The form says I’m only an interested party for monetary reasons, and my dad doesn’t want me to be his guardian. “Is it possible to withdraw my petition?” I ask the clerk. “Yes. Just let the judge know.” She kindly replies.
I leave the clerk and head for the courtroom. My case is called, and as I approach the podium; two lawyers - a man and a woman - my dad, my aunt and her meddling husband take their place at the opposite podium. We are sworn in by the judge, and she takes her seat at the bench. The judge asks for my personal information, which I provide. She then asks, “Is it true you filed a petition for guardianship?” “Yes, Your Honor; however, I’d like to withdraw my petition.” I reply. The judge looks at me surprised and asks, “You may; But might I ask why?” I give a relieved smile and say, “If he doesn’t want me as his guardian, I will not force him to accept.” “Fair enough. Do you feel his sister is a capable guardian?” The judge responds. “Yes, Your Honor.”
After the judge grants my aunt guardianship and dismisses all parties, my aunt’s attorney thanks me and asks for my address. I provide what she needs, and with the little courage I’m able to muster, I look at my loveless family one last time. As my aunt - fraudulently - thanks me, I take a breath and growl in a low voice, “I hate all of you. Don’t ever speak to me again.” I walk out of the courtroom feigning indifference even though I feel my heart shattering with every step.
It’s approaching two years now, and no one has attempted to make amends; however, I’ve learned that narcissists “are never wrong.” So we are all dead to each other, just not in the same ways.
it’s like I can’t sleep through the night if I don’t stay awake past 1 or 2:00 am. It’s no wonder my physical body is giving up on me; yet, when I try to do right it never works out the way it’s supposed to. Ugh, why did God bring me here only to be kicked around like an aluminum can?
We don’t have money to take her to the vet this week, but I hope to get her in on Thursday.
