They celebrate my birthday today, though to the best of my recollection, it isn't.
Why they chose this, I can speculate only.
Perhaps to assist in falsifying my identity. Perhaps the name matched someone else born on this day. Perhaps they never knew when my birthday is, so chose a central date and hoped it would balance. Perhaps to discredit the fortune tellers. Perhaps because I got the 3 and 6 mixed up when I wrote what I thought my real birthday was. Too many vairaibles.
Even with the proficiency of German record keeping, it is useless without access. It is useles when one lives in the USA wherein the only history which exists is theirs, and their point of view of it. Despite the well-known family name which is mine by right of birth, there has been nothing in the USA for years to say we ever even existed. Except the other day, when a friend returned from Europe and said he had visited the Habsburg Palace and something about Hohenzollern lived there too. OK. At least we exist someplace and I am happy my friend chose to inquire of it. Someplace for me to start other than Baden Wurttemberg, where I have not been able to connect. Not where we were when I got lost from my parents anyway. We were in their summer home somewhere in the Alps. I know where I got lost to, I never knew where I got lost from, but my Papi felt my name and his were enough to get me home. So obviously, they were of some importance, my real parents.
Supposedly, I am 60 years old today.
But I am treated like I am 12 years old and expected to take on the duties of two houses, mostly the financial ones. That is where the problem is primary. The man I refer to as my "Dad", who has serious brain damage from chronic alcoholism, still fails to look ahead, fails to see past the immediate, and mostly, fails to see the reality of me. He thinks he's putting one over on me, but that is anout to end. His snake-in-the-grass ways wuill come to an end. He minds nothing ofpaying major money to a stranger to take care of him, but me, he wanted it for free. And that was not about to happen. And the protection of his life and finances I have given to him these past 10 years will also end if he refuses to take my advice and instead of running up more debt, refuses to cash in ready assets. I know he is doing this to spite me. He could never stand that I was right and he wasn't. He amuses himself in his fantasy that I will not be able to go home to Germany after his death because he intends to leave me broke and pennyless. That being the case, I will not have time or energy to tend to his needs.
These past 10 years of preventing his death have sucked what was left of my life out of me. Why didn't I just let him die? Truly, I do not know why. It was not a merciless thing. He was not in physical pain. I do not believe in torture for the sake of sustaining life. I had no choice in letting my brother Harry go to his peace. It destroyed me. The only solace I found was that for him, the suffering was ended. For me, it was only truly beginning. The abductress was in so much pain she couldn't draw a breath without crying. Her ribcage collapsed and then there was no way for her to breathe or eat. She had wanted to die for theprevious year, at which time the doctors told me that necrosis had begun to set in; the bone was not renewing itself. That is osteoporosis. Her years of alcoholism and combining opiods with alcohol only hastened the matter. She consumed zero calcium, didn't go out in the sun. It was a mercy for her to go. But his near-deaths were mostly due to his own stupid pig headedness. Except the first one. He had neglected his physical due to the non-stop whining and demands of the abductress and 6 months after her death underwnt a quadruple cardiac bypass surgery. For some reason, he expected my 5'4" and 135# self was supposed to help his 6' and 22# self recuperate at home on my own, refusing to let my boyfriend come with. He rehabbed in the hsopital facilities. He wanted to be home so he could get drunk some more.
After several trips to the emergency room for his alcohol overdoses, foot infections from diabtetes, asthmatic complications, he almost bit the dust 3 times in four years with multiple interim hospital trips for short term treatments. Those shennanigans stopped when I started getting "Into Prinzessin mode". That means I take no b.s. from anyone, doctors and health care people and financial parasites equally. It has kept him out of any and all emergency visits for 21 months now. But he is sliding back into laziness because his current home care is lazy. So things are goin to change.
He has always felt he should be waited on as he was by his wife, and none of the homefront matters are his to do. He simply does not do them when left on his own. It is a brain defect, I understand, and with the holes in his grey matter and his strokes, it is difficult to know the difference of what he cannot or just will not do. But he will clean up the mess he caused. I will not let him die until it is cleaned up, from the negligence to his home to the ridiculous financial decisions he has made. The ultimatum will be that he do as he should and reflect the correct proportions in his will, being that he has 4 grandchildren and not one, all of who have parents and the one he names having parents and three sets of grands, and myself, having no one on this earth. He will pay of his bills with what was intended for that one grandchild who now has a husband of her own, awaiting her third child, a husband, and an extremely well paying job as a teacher which the abductress and my Dad mostly paid for. He only paid for part of the Grandson's education, and at that, only one. And he will correct his errors or he will continue the remainder of his life with those errors but without my help.
There comes a time when I have to think of myself. I am in the wrong country not of my own choosing. I am disabled. There has been no one here whom I could even pretend enough to love to keep a relationship since they took all the men for soldiers when I was of a marrying mind. There are no good choices of men, and in 4 years I have not had the energy to seek out anyone. And it nearly landed me in hospital at the beginning of the year. I have had to let things be as they are. And I will have to start typing the book I began writing after my abductress died. It was too traumatic to recall what I was stolen from, so had to bandon that. I'm thinking of calling it "16 HOURS TO HELL" because that is how long the airplane took to carry me from Germany to the USA in 1959. And I need to contact publishers. ROCK MY SOUL was an e-book 12 years ago. Always ahead of my time and ahead of the thinking of most of this nation. They never catch up to where my mind is; they always lag behind. My "Dad" is no exception. He could not foresee living; only dieing. 10 years ago he wanted to discuss his death. I wanted to discuss his life. Now the time has come when his death must be discussed. If he chooses to continue as is, he will fade away within a year. But it isn't what he implies he chooses. He simply chooses not to do anything himself about it, but expects everyone else to do it for him. He is much like a large baby who unfortunately still has say over matters of importance. No doubt if I answered the letter that came for people in major debt they would advise him as I would. Maybe contacting them will be the ticket to cleaning up that mess and putting available funds where they belong-paying off his debts.
So after another sleepless night brought on by things which should not be my burden in the first place, I am going to smoke, and they can go back to where they came from- that is, hell, - and this time, stay there. I have more important things to deal with than whether or not I choose to light a cigarette.
And no doubt Barack Obama feels the same way.
Pegi
Why they chose this, I can speculate only.
Perhaps to assist in falsifying my identity. Perhaps the name matched someone else born on this day. Perhaps they never knew when my birthday is, so chose a central date and hoped it would balance. Perhaps to discredit the fortune tellers. Perhaps because I got the 3 and 6 mixed up when I wrote what I thought my real birthday was. Too many vairaibles.
Even with the proficiency of German record keeping, it is useless without access. It is useles when one lives in the USA wherein the only history which exists is theirs, and their point of view of it. Despite the well-known family name which is mine by right of birth, there has been nothing in the USA for years to say we ever even existed. Except the other day, when a friend returned from Europe and said he had visited the Habsburg Palace and something about Hohenzollern lived there too. OK. At least we exist someplace and I am happy my friend chose to inquire of it. Someplace for me to start other than Baden Wurttemberg, where I have not been able to connect. Not where we were when I got lost from my parents anyway. We were in their summer home somewhere in the Alps. I know where I got lost to, I never knew where I got lost from, but my Papi felt my name and his were enough to get me home. So obviously, they were of some importance, my real parents.
Supposedly, I am 60 years old today.
But I am treated like I am 12 years old and expected to take on the duties of two houses, mostly the financial ones. That is where the problem is primary. The man I refer to as my "Dad", who has serious brain damage from chronic alcoholism, still fails to look ahead, fails to see past the immediate, and mostly, fails to see the reality of me. He thinks he's putting one over on me, but that is anout to end. His snake-in-the-grass ways wuill come to an end. He minds nothing ofpaying major money to a stranger to take care of him, but me, he wanted it for free. And that was not about to happen. And the protection of his life and finances I have given to him these past 10 years will also end if he refuses to take my advice and instead of running up more debt, refuses to cash in ready assets. I know he is doing this to spite me. He could never stand that I was right and he wasn't. He amuses himself in his fantasy that I will not be able to go home to Germany after his death because he intends to leave me broke and pennyless. That being the case, I will not have time or energy to tend to his needs.
These past 10 years of preventing his death have sucked what was left of my life out of me. Why didn't I just let him die? Truly, I do not know why. It was not a merciless thing. He was not in physical pain. I do not believe in torture for the sake of sustaining life. I had no choice in letting my brother Harry go to his peace. It destroyed me. The only solace I found was that for him, the suffering was ended. For me, it was only truly beginning. The abductress was in so much pain she couldn't draw a breath without crying. Her ribcage collapsed and then there was no way for her to breathe or eat. She had wanted to die for theprevious year, at which time the doctors told me that necrosis had begun to set in; the bone was not renewing itself. That is osteoporosis. Her years of alcoholism and combining opiods with alcohol only hastened the matter. She consumed zero calcium, didn't go out in the sun. It was a mercy for her to go. But his near-deaths were mostly due to his own stupid pig headedness. Except the first one. He had neglected his physical due to the non-stop whining and demands of the abductress and 6 months after her death underwnt a quadruple cardiac bypass surgery. For some reason, he expected my 5'4" and 135# self was supposed to help his 6' and 22# self recuperate at home on my own, refusing to let my boyfriend come with. He rehabbed in the hsopital facilities. He wanted to be home so he could get drunk some more.
After several trips to the emergency room for his alcohol overdoses, foot infections from diabtetes, asthmatic complications, he almost bit the dust 3 times in four years with multiple interim hospital trips for short term treatments. Those shennanigans stopped when I started getting "Into Prinzessin mode". That means I take no b.s. from anyone, doctors and health care people and financial parasites equally. It has kept him out of any and all emergency visits for 21 months now. But he is sliding back into laziness because his current home care is lazy. So things are goin to change.
He has always felt he should be waited on as he was by his wife, and none of the homefront matters are his to do. He simply does not do them when left on his own. It is a brain defect, I understand, and with the holes in his grey matter and his strokes, it is difficult to know the difference of what he cannot or just will not do. But he will clean up the mess he caused. I will not let him die until it is cleaned up, from the negligence to his home to the ridiculous financial decisions he has made. The ultimatum will be that he do as he should and reflect the correct proportions in his will, being that he has 4 grandchildren and not one, all of who have parents and the one he names having parents and three sets of grands, and myself, having no one on this earth. He will pay of his bills with what was intended for that one grandchild who now has a husband of her own, awaiting her third child, a husband, and an extremely well paying job as a teacher which the abductress and my Dad mostly paid for. He only paid for part of the Grandson's education, and at that, only one. And he will correct his errors or he will continue the remainder of his life with those errors but without my help.
There comes a time when I have to think of myself. I am in the wrong country not of my own choosing. I am disabled. There has been no one here whom I could even pretend enough to love to keep a relationship since they took all the men for soldiers when I was of a marrying mind. There are no good choices of men, and in 4 years I have not had the energy to seek out anyone. And it nearly landed me in hospital at the beginning of the year. I have had to let things be as they are. And I will have to start typing the book I began writing after my abductress died. It was too traumatic to recall what I was stolen from, so had to bandon that. I'm thinking of calling it "16 HOURS TO HELL" because that is how long the airplane took to carry me from Germany to the USA in 1959. And I need to contact publishers. ROCK MY SOUL was an e-book 12 years ago. Always ahead of my time and ahead of the thinking of most of this nation. They never catch up to where my mind is; they always lag behind. My "Dad" is no exception. He could not foresee living; only dieing. 10 years ago he wanted to discuss his death. I wanted to discuss his life. Now the time has come when his death must be discussed. If he chooses to continue as is, he will fade away within a year. But it isn't what he implies he chooses. He simply chooses not to do anything himself about it, but expects everyone else to do it for him. He is much like a large baby who unfortunately still has say over matters of importance. No doubt if I answered the letter that came for people in major debt they would advise him as I would. Maybe contacting them will be the ticket to cleaning up that mess and putting available funds where they belong-paying off his debts.
So after another sleepless night brought on by things which should not be my burden in the first place, I am going to smoke, and they can go back to where they came from- that is, hell, - and this time, stay there. I have more important things to deal with than whether or not I choose to light a cigarette.
And no doubt Barack Obama feels the same way.
Pegi
