Mercy!

I went back to the doctor today. I'm still depressed but at least I'm sleeping. The doc said I could either carry on with the sleeping tablets (that was his prefference) or increase my anti depressants. I decided to do both. I'm not coping well at all. The deadline the bank has set is looming. Friday is the last day we have to wrap this up or things will just get a lot worse. I know that on Friday the paperwork will not be signed; I'm tearful, anxious and very irritable. So it makes sense to cover all the bases.

For the first time in a long time I cried in front of the doctor today. I was quite distressed talking about my problems. Upsetting for my husband as well as for me. I realised how low I was feeling when I talked about the awful orphan to the doc. It all just poured out, all my emotions and hurt and tears. I wasn't expecting to be so emotional - it was like a wave, it just came over me; I couldn't stop myself.

I left the doctor in tears; I even spoke to the receptionist in tears. OMG. On the way home my husband tried to comfort me; he really wasn't expecting me to be so upset and be feeling so depressed. I've done quite a good job of putting on a brave front for the family.

After a couple of minutes of being in the car, I called my brother. I asked him to ask the awful orphan to sign the paperwork for the bank by Friday - I felt as if I was begging him but I didn't really care. I was desperate. I was in tears the whole time I was talking to him. I know it was upsetting for him too. I was off the phone in a minute or two. I haven't asked him for anything for over a year. I just said- please just ask him to sign. My brother said he would talk to the awful orphan and call me back. I told my brother he didn't need to call me back. Just ask for me, that's all.

Nightmares!

Can't get away from the awful orphan. He's there morning noon and night. I dream about him and various other members of my family. I talk/fight in my sleep! My poor husband gets a scare every time I shout/swear in my sleep. Then he has the job of waking me to stop the fight. There's no escape!!!

Final deadline.

31st May 2010 the final deadline we have been given by the bank!! They want us to sign on the dotted line or pay a penalty of £10,000. The penalty applies to both parties; not just my husband but the awful orpahn too. So the bank wins. Kerching - £20,000 for not a lot of work. Well that's my opinion anyway. We were ready, signed, sealed and delivered to do the bank's bidding many months ago. However, the awful orphan is not. Do I think he will sign by friday 28th may? NO. That's the short answer.

So how do I feel? The short answer - crap! It's just gone on and on and on and on. It's been a pain in the backside. It's been exhausting. It's been hard work. It's been a big fat bastard of a time! Yes I know - too much bad language. But it's a big fat understatement compared to how I feel.

The awful orphan will not sign on the dotted line by Friday 28th May because for him £10,000 is no big deal; £20,000 is no big deal to him either. Why? Because the awful orphan wants to sell his house. He wants a buyer in place. He doesn't want to take out a mortgage that will bind him to the house for any period of time. He doesn't want to pay a large penalty for early redemption of the mortgage for no reason. Why? Because he doesn't want to live there. He's got a ready made house, (that my husband and my son buitl), hasn't and won't pay for it and wants rid of it. He wants to walk away with a cool half a million pounds in profit; yes that's right, PROFIT. he's not silly - just a bastard. Oops there I go again.

I wish he would sign. I wish he was out of my life. But that's not how life goes. He's going to be a big part of my life, he's going to continue making my life a misery. Making my life hell. He enjoys it and has been fot the past 18 months. EIGTEEN BLOODY MONTHS. It's a hobby for him, helps pass the time of day, as he doesn't have a life. Small pleasures for small minded people.

He should go out more. See people. Get a normal hobby - horse riding, sheep shearing, pig farming. Anything. The world is his oyster. He could paint, draw, write - possibly. There's so much to do. He could read, do voluntary work, visit people in hospital. So many ideas in just a tick.

But no. He would rather make his Massi's (maternal aunt)life miserable.

The same Massi who looked after him when he came home from hospital at 10 days old because his Mum was suffering from post natal depression. Her 2nd episode ever. The first was when she was 18 years old doing her A levels. So I stayed with my sister, his mum, to lookafter her first born child. I was 4 and a half months pregnant myself with my 3rd child. I left my daughters at home with their Dad and their Dadi Ma (Paternal Grandmother). I fed him his milk, I changed his nappies, I bathed him, all while being sick all day long from my pregnancy. I had all day sickness, not just morning sickness. Wonderful.

I stayed for a week. We slept on a couch - the awful orphan and me. It was a tight squeeze, the baby (awful orphan), me and my tummy. But there was no bedroom for us. My sister had lodgers at the time, so we had to have the couch. I put him on the inside so he couldn't fall off the couch and I didn't sleep all night, incase I squashed him and suffocated him. Lovely - for him. My daughters were 3 and 5 years old at the time I left them to look after the baby. The baby's father was working and didn't take time off work. There was an elderly aunt on hand for a day or so but she was no help. I had to do things for her too. Although I saw my daughters every day, I did make a huge sacrifice for my sister. I didn't think twice about it. When I went home I carried on helping almost every day for many weeks. Fortunalely my sister got better quite quickly; within about 8 weeks. She returned to teaching 3 months after the awful orphan was born. Wonder why?

The same Massi who looked after his Father, his brother and him when his Mum died for 20 months. That's right 20 MONTHS. Not 20 days or 20 weeks but 20 months, which is about 600 days. That's the best part of 2 years. OMG! Cooked for him, washed his dishes, paid for all their food and liquid sustenance - alcholic and non alcholic. How stupid was I?

The same Massi who looked after him and his baby brother for 3 months when his Father died. It would have been years but the awful orphan decided he was going to throw his dummy out of the pram at the ripe old age of 26. He started gently in November 2008, a mere 5 or 6 weeks after his Father's death. We let it go. Then at the end of December there was no trying to kid ourselves any more - he was being seriously abusive, disrespectful and downright rude. Even then me and my husband went over a couple of days after the first big fight with an olive branch - the same as I would have done if I had fallen out with one of my own children and we put it down to grief; he was an orphan after all. We offered our olive branch on 1st January 2009 but after that everything went from bad to worse to absolute hell.

The same Massi whose pocket he lived in since he was a baby. The same Massi who celebrated his birthday when his Mum wasn't around to do it. The same Massi who bought his baby brother's birthday cakes too because he couldn't be asked from the age of 21 to do it himself. The same Massi that gave him hot roti (chappatti) off the gridle just the way his own Mum used to. And they say blood is thicker than water. What a load of rot that is.

Long time no blog.

Hello. It's me again. Been away ages. Have to get back in the saddle; it's been too long! I've been feeling depressed and it's gone on for months now. Not very productive but something I'm not getting a handle on. I'm not being proactive, not doing things for me; not doing anything I enjoy. If I do plan something I cancel at the last minute for something mundane that I think has to be done.

I haven't felt like blogging; didn't see the point. Had nothing to say. Haven't been feeling anything really except for very low. Depressed. Haven't enjoyed anything that I've done with the family. Just been feeling flat.

The situation with the awful orphan has been getting me down. There's a stalemate. No movement, nothing going on. Deadlines come and go. The bank keeps extending them because the awful orphan comes up with some sob story and the bank fall for it. They extend the deadline again. That leaves us in limbo with the threat of losing our home hanging over us all the time. The awful orphan's not bothered. He invested nothing in these houses; no time, no effort, no love, no money, nothing. For him it's easy come, easy go.

I've been to see my GP a couple of times over the last month. He said I need sleep and gave me sleeping tablets. I told him I've been there, done that, the drugs don't work. He said I should have the sleeping tablets, get some sleep and then we'll sort out the depression. As I had no other clever ideas, in the end I agreed. I took the tablets. I went back to doc after couple of weeks, told him I wasn't impressed with the sleeping tablets. He said I could double the dose, he said the tablets hadn't done a bad job considering. So off I went with more sleeping tablets, to get some more sleep! I go back to see the doc next week. Wonder if he has a tablet to make my real problems go away.

Everyday when I leave my house for work I curse and abuse the awful orphan. I look over my fence and if his car is there, off I go into the sewer. If the younger brother's car is there he gets some of the same. Not clever, not helping me, not productive but true. A negative use of my time and energy - I know; but does it make one iota of difference? No. Am I a grown up? Yes. Can I behave like a rational, sensible, positive human being? No. I don't claim to be a Saint. It's the same routine when I get home - I drive past their house, if the cars are there off I go back into the cess pit. It's all said in my head but it's still nasty. Just because I'm not shouting these insults and curses from the roof top doesn't make me feel better about myself. I'm not proud of myself. It usually starts when I'm in the shower, first thing in the morning; same senario every day, every week, every month, for over a year now. OMG! God help me.

It's been a horrid year so far. Recently it's been worse. I haven't been to see my parents for weeks now. I don't have the energy or motivation; or I just feel ill. I've called my mum. I've offloaded on her a couple of times. At least she listens. At least I'm not so resentful towards her now; she even sympathises with me! WOW. That doesn't happen easily.

My mum's having a horrid time too. Mum used to have 5 kids and 3 son-in-laws and 2 daughter-in-laws. Now she has 3 kids, 2 son-in-laws and 1 daughter-in-law. Two of her kids died in their 40's. Then a son-in-law died at the age of 59. Number 1 daughter-in-law doesn't visit; she divorced my brother before he died. So Mum's down from 10 "kids" and 10 grandchildren, buzzing around her every other day, to 7 "kids" and 10 grandchildren. The "kids that are left don't give a toss about my Mum and Dad. The grandchildren did what they could while the family was a family but now maybe they don't give a toss either.

Obviously I'm one of the "kids". I used to give a toss. I used to do a lot for my parents. I used to give up my 2 days off from work for my Mum and Dad. They had lost their first born, a daughter who was only 46 when she died; she had left two sons who were 21 years and 14 years old. I loved my parents and I felt bad for them. I took them to the doctor, to the dentist, to the hospital, to the cinema, shopping. I did all the things I felt would improve their quality of life. Then my brother died 14 months later. I carried on doing what I was already doing. My surviving brother also helped out. He came down from Milton Keynes to west London, every Friday or Saturday and did chores for my Mum and Dad. At this point nisha also got involved; she was supposed to share the weekend duty with my brother but most weekends my brother ended up doing it. nisha's input was minimal. It was frustrating for my brother but more so for me. I was making big sacrifices, my health was poor and nisha was crying off that she was too sick to help us out. What a load of bull. nisha's diabetic, she has been since she was about 10 or 11. All she does is moan about it; she wants sympathy the whole time. It's always boo hoo with her. My older sister who died at 46 years old, was dying of rampant stomach cancer. I never heard her moan about her illness. She was in such awful pain in the last 2 months or more before she died; in those 2 months she didn't make a fuss. She didn't want sympathy. So maybe she was a stronger person than nisha? I don't think so; she was afflicted with bipolar depression from the age of 18 years. She had many episodes and a few admissions to hospital for her bipolar. She had postnatal episodes after both of her boys. She was also the main breadwinner in the family. So she didn't have it easy.

nisha picks and chooses what she wants to do. Go on a demonstration in the freezing cold - yes! Go out drinking - yes! Go out clubbing - yes! Go to a party - yes! Go out to dinner - yes! Go out to sunday lunch at a friend's - yes! Visit her sick father-in-law - yes! Visit her sick parents - no. If it's fun nisha will be the first one there. If there's alcohol she's there; if there's food too, that's a bonus. If dinner needs to be made - she's off sick. If there are dishes to wash - forget it. Laundry to do - do it yourself. Hoovering to do - no way. She calls the non fun stuff "seva"; that means - service, (litertally) in Panjabi. nisha says I'm very good at seva. She was being facaecious when she said it, but I'm not bothered.

I did make a hot dinner for my kids each day, with fresh meat and veg. I did wash the dishes for my kids. I did wash my kids clothes. I did keep the house clean. Seva for my family - no problem. And it was no problem to do seva for my Mum, Dad and my brother for over 5 years. I was trying to cope with bipolar depression; I had been through thyroid cancer; I was struggling to get into work for 20 hours a week but I did it. Meanwhile the sickly nisha was working full time, in a highly paid post for a local London council. Then I got tired, fed up and pissed off. I was being dumped on big time. My kids, although all adults, were being neglected. My husband was a second class citizen. So I finally woke up and smelt the coffee; ages after my kids had tried to show me that what I was doing would kill me if I carried on. They had tried for a long, long time, but they failed. So, I stopped doing the seva for Mum, Dad and my brother. I started looking after myself. I was in the thick of my troubles with the awful orphan so if I had carried on the way I was - I would either be dead or in a psychiatric hospital. Yes, nisha would have been pleased but it wasn't to be; I was to live another day to do more seva. Yee haa!

Back to hospital again.

My mum was addmitted into hospital again this week. She has gall stones, her liver and kidneys don't function well and she's diabetic too. My brother text me to let me know about my mum on Monday morning. My brother came to West London to my parents home to see my mum in the hospital and to stay with my dad. I went to see my mum in hospital and saw my dad and brother too.

My dad was ok but he does feel insecure when my mum goes into hospital. I hadn't seen my brother since Christmas eve and hadn't spoken to him properly since June. I was going to avoid talking about the awful orphan and nisha; I didn't want to ruin the time I would spend with my brother after such a long time. It came as a surprise when my brother brought up the awful orphan and his brother. But I didn't shy away from the chosen topic as I had a lot on my chest. So when my brother asked how I was coping with my neighbours I told him. I asked how my nephews were coping with being my neighbours. He told me the awful orphan was ok and handling it well. The younger brother was not doing as well as he's more emotional and isn't able to cut off from his feelings so easily. This news came as no surprise to me. My brother told me my nephews had moved in next door to me to avoid capital gains tax. Again, not news to me, I had worked that one out. Something my brother didn't tell me was that my nephews have gone to India for a week to see their father's family, including their Grandparents. My brother knew this but he chose not to tell me.

Then came the cherry on the cake - my brother told me nisha has been made redundant. I knew this had been in the pipeline for sometime. So good news. Result. I told my brother I would be having a party to celebrate. Facecious - I know.

All in all I was happy with the way things had gone with my brother. There was no shouting, no screaming and minimal swearing. I had been lighthearted and happy to be with my brother but something went wrong somewhere.

I had been to see my mum in hospital on Monday after seeing my dad and my brother. Mum was ok considering all her problems. She was pleased to see me, she was chatting away and I did a couple of litle jobs for her. On Tuesday my brother let me know how my mum was doing. On Wednesday I hadn't heard from my brother so I sent him a text to ask how mum was. He replied saying he didn't know how mum was, he was at work and he told me which ward my mum was in. OK. What happened? What did I miss? My brother ususally lets me know when he's going back home to Milton Keynes and he usually tells me who is staying with our dad. Well not this time.

It's over 24 hours later and I haven't heard from him. I was trying to be cool and I text him back saying - ok, ta. But I didn't expect him to be so tight lipped. So again I've been sent to Coventry and I don't know why. I was hoping it wouldn't bother me; I thought I had become stronger over the last 6 months and better able to handle things. Wrong. I didn't sleep last night. I got to work at 3pm. OMG! And only managed to work 4 hours. So maybe not so much improvement.

Family. Joy oh joy!

Happy New Year?

Another New Year. What will this year bring? Hopefully good health, peace and happiness. Not like last year. This time last year I went over to the awful orphan's house with an olive branch. We'd had a fight a couple of days earlier, so being the gown up I decided to go over with my husband, taking a home made sweet dish as a peace offering. Well it was a good effort but apparently not good enough. We got a chilly reception - the weather outside was warmer. The nephews had a friend over and the awful orphan's girlfriend was there too. We managed to sqeeze a hello out of the brothers but trying to get a Happy New Year just wasn't going to happen.

We sat down. The awful orphan offered us drinks. We both declined. The little brother had a bigger problem with both of us than the agrieved brother; he wasn't talking at all. After about 5 minutes I went in the kitchen to put the sweet dish into a dish of theirs so I could take my dish back home. I couldn't get a word out of the girlfriend - don't know what her problem was. Frosty the snowman would have been friendlier. But hay ho! I got my dishes and sat down for another couple of minutes. I asked my husband if we could go. Girlfriend was making dinner - there was enough to feed the 5,000, but we didn't get an invite to stay. We wouldn't have stayed but it would have been polite to be asked; that's what Panjabis do, unless they're tight or they have no manners.

So off we poddled, down the road back to our warm loving family to report on any progress.

So that was 1st Jan '09. Not a great start. Tried but apparently not hard enough.

What will this year bring? 1st Jan '10? I hope it will be better than last year. God willing the awful orphan will come to his senses and we can have some peace and quiet and get on with our lives. Lets see what this year brings.

Annus Horribilus.

29th December 2008. The first day of my Annus Horribilus. A year ago I had a nasty fight with the awful orphan. On my way downstairs to my kitchen, I heard my son arguing with the awful orphan. My husband was there trying to calm them down; he wasn't having much luck. I was confident I would be able to calm them down. I failed miserably. The awful orphan managed to wind me up big time. In my defence he is the master of winding up people. He could win a gold medal by a mile if it was an olympic sport; no contest. So we had words. At one point I told him he used to upset his mum the way he was upsetting me. His mum had passed away in May 2004. I knew it was a low blow and I said as much. So he came back with, "we all know what you did to my mother". An equally low blow if not more so. He was talking about things that had happened in 1977 - over 6 years before he was born. Ancient history.

I would have had some respect for him if he had ever bought up the subject while his mother had been alive. He'd had 21 years to speak up. Or if he had spoken up while his father was alive. He'd had 27 years to by the time his father died. So I was livid to say the least.

I know what had happened, my sister knew what had happened. She was dead, so if I was going to rake up old ground, she couldn't defend herself. So that wasn't right. Even if her husband had been alive I could have grabbed the awful orphan by the ear, dragged him accross the road to his father's house and asked him to sort his son out. I would have been willing to go over old ground in his father's presence, because his father had a pretty good idea of what I had suppossedly done to my sister.

So I asked him to enlighten me as to what I had supposedly done to his mother. I was goading him. I was angry, hurt, frustrated and some. I was ready for a fight. The gloves were off. I was saying - come on give it your best shot, lets see what you've got because I'm going to knock you out with what I have for you.

But luckily the awful orphan left my house with more shouting and abuse being directed at him and he gave as good as he got. I'm glad he went, as things would have got out of hand otherwise.

As the day went on I felt more and more depressed. It was all sinking in. The things that had been said; why had they been said; what would be the repercussions? I felt very sad and angry and hurt. I wanted to go over the road to the awful orphan and squeeze the life out of him. I wanted him to be sorry for what he had said to me. As the hours ticked by I got worse and worse. I spoke to my husband about it; I shouted a lot rather than spoke. I was trying to work out what had happened and why. It was a horrible, awful day.

The night was worse. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't read. All I could do was hear the things that had been said in my kitchen earlier in the day. The words and images going round and round in my head constantly. I wanted to go over to the awful orphan's house, bash the door down and give him a piece of my mind. I didn't do that, it was the middle of the night. I did write him a text message. It said "You disgraced your Mother and Father earlier. You broke my heart. I hope it was worth it." It was 1.20am. I still have the text on my phone a year later to the day. I never sent the text.

I got up some time the next day. I hadn't slept even 5 minutes during the whole night. I felt rotten, listless, jetlagged and depressed. I couldn't understand why he would come out with these accusations that were nothing to do with him. What was he harbouring towards me all this time? All the years he had known me. Everything I had done for him. Maybe he had had these feelings all his life. Maybe I didn't know him at all. I had so many questions going round and round in my head. He had been treated like my own son by me; better than my own son. I had done things for him that I hadn't done for my own children. Had he been laughing at me all the time? Using me all these years? Making me think he loved and respected me. Maybe.

It's a year later to the day. I'm still affected by what happened that day. Nothing has ever been spoken of it again, by either of us. Nothing has been resolved. It's been left to fester. It's 1.05am and I'm writing about that horrid day. It seems as if it were yesterday. I hope the awful orphan reads this one day so he can understand what he did to me. This is the first time I have documented it all. This is my story, my history.

More texts!

More drama. More texts. More family feuding. Lovely. Just what the doctor ordered. Because of my clash with my sister nisha yesterday, my younger daughter decided she was going to text nisha as well. My daughter told nisha that if I wanted to talk to my father's solicitor then that was up to me. She also told nisha not to contact me again and to delete all of our numbers from her phone. My older daughter came home and decided to join into the fray. She text nisha and told her that while nisha's brother had been alive, nisha hadn't given him the time of day and reminded her that she had been nasty to his face and behind his back. Oooohh, low blow. nisha replied; she said we all needed anger management and all the abusive texts she had received had been passed to the police. I would have told her to stop wasting police time but I thought I'd better put a stop to this latest spat, so I desisted.

Well isn't she a card! I was the only one who sent abusive texts so I don't know what she's going on about. Neither of the girls sent her abusive texts. And then telling us we all need anger management. Well I agree I do need anger management, but my girls, no way Jose. nisha could do with some anger management too and so could my baby brother and my Father. So anger is a problem; it's all down to my genes I'm afraid.

I hope she didn't pass the texts to the police. It would be bad if I wasted police time but it's much worse for nisha to waste police time. She calls the police - pigs. She was a paid up member of the Militant wing of the Labour party. She hated the police. She was always going on marches and demonstrations. She was overtly anti establishment. Kind of ironic really. Complaining to the police about the text messages I sent her and calling them pigs in the same breath. Bloody hypocrite.

Fight by text.

More drama, all in a day's work. My sister nisha who hasn't spoken to me for years, got a call from my Father's solicitor. He was complaining about me. How I had phoned him and been rude and abusive to him. Oh didums. Tattle tale. I hadn't been rude or abusive by any stretch of the imagination, but still - didums. So nisha decided to tell me off by text. I was not to contact poor solicitor any more. I was alienating him. I was jeopardising my Brother's Inquest.

What a bloody family I have. I wasn't rude. I asked some pertinent questions; and what? Why would the fact, that the solicitor doesn't like me, jeopardise the case? Surely he's a proffessional. Surely he can tell a head case whe he comes across one. He shouldn't be so bloody sensitive. Jeopadise the case? What's he going to do? Postpone it again? And what? It's not like he pulled his finger out and got the job done so far, is it! Have we really got anything else to loose? Bloody looser.

What did I say to my sister, I hear you ask. Well I was very unlady like, I told her to f*** off; and to f*** the solicitor too, by text. Bloody cry baby.

She said I belonged on the Jeremy Kyle show. I don't know what she's going on about but I learnt to swear from my Dad. We had swearing in our home on a daily basis; and on the weekends there were bonus swear words for special occaisions. So I replied by text and told her she belonged in a coffin.

Is my sister nisha a lady? Is nisha a saint? Is the pope married? NO! I had to put up with some very, very blue language from her last year; 6 days after the awful orphan's Father had died - 10th October 2008. She hadn't spoken to me for months and months. All I wanted was a relationship with her. My older sister had died four and a half years before. nisha was the only sister I had left in the world. We had been close most of our lives. I was practically begging her for a relationship. All I wanted, was to see her once a month to catch up with each other. Not too much to ask for.

We still hadn't had my brother in law's funeral. It was a very warm day. I asked nisha to come for a walk with me. We went to a local park. We were gone for about 3 hours. For at least 2 hours I had to listen to her swear at my husband, my daughters and my son. The swearing was coming out of her mouth, her eyes, her ears, her nose. Did I walk away and tell her I wasn't going to listen to her foul mouth? No. I heard her out. I was willing to do anything for some semblence of a relationship. I was even willing to listen to her hate, her poison and her vitriol, no matter how much it hurt me. I was willing to listen to her tell me how she wished my husband was dead, instead of my brother in law. Would I have said the same thing to her that day? No way. Would I say it to her today? No. Why? Because I wish it was her who was dead. I hate my sister. She may as well be dead as far as I'm concerned. I have no problem with people who preach. But at least practice what you preach. Bloody hypocite sister. Does my sister nisha swear when she's angry or hurt or pissed off? You bet she does, like a trooper, always and without fail. She needs to get off her high horse and come back to the real world.

Bastard solicitor.

Had a conversation with my Father's solicitor today. It's been a while, months since we've spoken. I wonder if he's missed me.

My Father has a solicitor to deal with the Inquest into my Brother's untimely death in a psychiatric ward in hospital. My Brother died on 23rd July 2005. Because he had been sectioned and died in hospital, there had to be an Inquest into his death. Unfortunately the Inquest has still not been heard.

This fact makes me angry and very upset. There is no point having an Inquest at this late stage. Vital witnesses will not be available to appear at the Inquest. Some will have left the country; they can't be made to come back for the Inquest. Some will have moved on and may not be able to be traced after such a long period of time. I strongly believe that the way my Brother died will never come to light. I feel this is grossly unfair and unjust. If an Inquest has to be heard, it should be heard within a reasonable time frame. It should be a legal requirement that the Inquest is heard within a year. Families have a right to be treated with dignity and respect. Families have a right to justice. Public money is being spent; there should be a purpose for this money to be spent. It should be credible. It should make sense and not be a charade. Common sense should prevail above all else.

All I did today was voice these same concerns to my Father's solicitor. I was accused of being rude and abusive by the solicitor. Why? I asked him, what had I said that was rude or abusive. No reply. I was at work when I spoke to the solicitor. My colleagus were listening to the conversation; they heard everything I said. I didn't shout, I didn't call him names. I have witnesses. He threatened to put the phone down on me. He threatened to call my sister nisha - that had me shaking in my boots. I was genuinely terrified, NOT. What a wuss. He needed a good slap. That would have sorted him out.

He spoke to me as if I were a 5 year old. He twisted everything I said. I felt as if he was a prosecuting solicitor and I was being prosecuted. And then to top it all he was going running to nisha. Oh my God. Bastard solicitor!

All quiet on the Western Front.

No more drama, no more scenes, no more dramatics, I'm pleased to say. All quiet on the Western Front....

Tesco Fiasco.

Oh My God! I don't believe it. This afternoon my daughter and her boyfriend were in Tesco, minding their own business, doing the grocery shopping - buying food for a Sunday supper, when my nephew (the awful orphan's younger brother), popped up under my daughter's nose and asked how she was. She didn't want to talk to him so she tried to ignore him; carried on her conversation and walked away. Did he get the message? No. He came running after her to find out why she didn't want to talk to him. By this time my daughter was getting angry; she walked away again. Did he get the message? No. He ran after her again, down the cheese aisle; this time he wanted to know what her problem was. Why didn't she want to talk to him? So she gave him a loud, angry answer in the middle of Tesco. There was shouting and swearing - there was a big scene.

She told him his brother had treated her Father and her family in an appalling manner. She said there was no way she was going to give him the time of day or talk to him or sort out any differences with him, because he hadn't been in touch for 8 months. He was shocked at her attitude. Why? I cannot understand why. He said, I have no father you stupid woman. So the awful orphan's brother feels he has a God given right to be rude and disrespectful just because he has no father. I disagree. My daughter also told him that his brother was taking her Father to court over £22,000 - he had no answer to that. I suppose the way she shouted it out in the middle of Tesco, on a busy Sunday afternoon made it sound a bit bloody petty.

From today's encounter it seems as if there is little or no communication between the 2 brothers. It seems as if the younger one is following the older one blindly. Not asking any questions; for example: Why don't my cousins speak to me any more? Why don't my aunt and uncle see me or speak to me anymore? How can 6 people in one family change so much? Are you sure it's not you they have a problem with? Are you sure I haven't done anything wrong? Are you telling me everything? Are you telling me anything? The younger orphan is 20 years old - he's not a baby. He's a man. He needs to ask questions. He needs to know what is going on.

Or is he being protected? If so. What is he being protected from?

The worst thing about today is that the awful orphan hasn't been able to gauge, in the last 12 months, what impact all this is having on his younger brother. He hasn't given one thought to how his brother will feel living next door to 4 members of his extended family, that he used to be very close to. How will he cope if he approaches them one by one and none of them want to speak to him or sort things out with him? The awful orphan is too selfish to think about the only surviving member of his immediate family. Too selfish to care for him, to nurture him, to love him, to put him first.

The awful orphan and his brother moved in next door to us this evening. It's one of the worst decisions he's made - ever. Did he have an alternative? Yes, of course he did. There's always a way where there's a will. But he took the easy way out for himself and the hard way out for his brother. That's love for you. Blood brothers indeed.

Three come along together!

No sighting for a week then 2 in the same day. Typical. Just like buses. You wait ages for one then 3 come along all together. Just my luck! I thought when the awful orpan had gone away today that I would get at least a weeks respite. No such luck. He was back in just a few short hours. So no time for my heart to grow fonder.

Two of my kids were home when the nephews landed for the second time today. I'm glad I wasn't home alone. I don't mean to make a big deal about it; it's not as if I feel scared or worried for my safety. But it is weird. The house next door has been empty for 10 months and I got used to it being that way. Now when I see my nephews through my kitchen window, in their own kitchen, it makes me feel weird for want of a better word. It's unsettling. It makes my heart sink. I haven't spoken to either of them since April. That's a long time. I used to speak to them almost every day and I used to see them about 4 or 5 times a week. So it's a big difference - to go from being very close to being estranged from each other.

It will take me some time to get used to having them next door. I hope I don't get wound up and react. I have desisted for the last 8 months from going over to their home and giving them both a piece of my mind and some. I pass very close by their home on my way to work 4 times a week. But I made a decision each day to stay away no matter how upset, angry or frustrated I was. Because I didn't want things to get out of control, out of hand. I want to carry on in the same way but it will be a lot harder now that they are living right under my nose.

Over the past year I have had countless conversations in my head with the awful orphan and his brother as well as the rest of my family. A lot of resentment and bitterness has built up. I hold the awful orphan reponsible for my very poor health this year and for the terrible stress he has caused me and my family. So there's reason enough for me to kick off!

Latest sighting.

I have news of an appearance from the awful orphan. When I thought he had dissapeared into a black hole never to be seen again, he popped up again. He was over at the house next door this afternoon. He had a guy come to fit a TV ariel - let the poor guy sit there waiting for him to turn up. Well the awful orphan is very important, so why not? They were at the house for about an hour and then they dissapeared again.

I wonder how long until the next sighting. The longer the better. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe it will make me fornder of him if he doesn't turn up for another 6 months. Wishful thinking I think.

I wish I had 3 wishes. I'd wish for world peace, I'd wish to eradicate hunger and I'd wish never to see the awful orphan again. There's never a Genie around when you need one!

Neighbours From Hell

The awful orphan began moving in next door to me three day ago, at the weekend. I knew it would happen soon but it was a shock when it did happen. I didn't see him or his brother at all; my kids did see them. They were all alone, just the 2 of them; no mates or family to help them out. It rained all weekend while they were moving in. Maybe God was as sad as I was. Now there's been no sight or sound of them since Sunday night. A mystery. Where did they go? Have they been abducted by aliens? Could I be that lucky? Don't want to jinx my luck, so I'm going to zip it now!

What will I do when they do get here? Shall I go out in the garden and pick a fight ASAP? Shall I be cool calm and collected? Dignity personified. Or shall I pretend they don't exist? Pretend the house is still empty.

Am I going to be the neighbour from hell? Or are they going to be neighours from hell? Shall I go over and introduce myself - take over an apple pie? They might think I've poisoned it. Or shall I be cool and aloof and give them the cold shoulder? Decisions, decisions! So much to think about. So much to do.

Well I hope I'm ready for when they do get here. Better get the war paint on.

Reconciliation.

I called my mum back after our argument in 24 hours. I didn't say I was sorry because I wasn't. I was sorry for upsetting her and my Dad though. We had a civil conversation. That was my way of saying sorry. She was telling me she has no appetite. I told her she needs to eat often, she's lost too much weight. She's malnurished. After she'd discussed a couple of problems I told her I didn't call her to fight with her the day before. I hadn't planned to fight; it just happened. I fight with her about things that have nothing to do with her but indirectly they do.

I told her I needed her to tell her Grandsons that they are wrong. She needs to tell them right from wrong. I said she should have told the awful orphan, that I could not do the things he's accusing me of. I'm not that kind of person, I'm like his Mother. I told her she should have told them, don't treat my daughter like that - you have no right to do that. I wanted her to stand up for me. I wanted her to put some sense into their heads. That's not too much to ask for. I wanted her to remind them of how much my kids, my husband and I had helped them out when their Mum had died in May 2004. How we had got them thru the tough times. How we had lived as one family for 20 months after they had lost their Mum. I wanted her to remind them that we were the ones who gave them our time, our love, our affection. We were the ones who made the most effort to look after them when their Mum died. We gave their Father invaluable support and love.

I wanted my Mum to stand up for me as I had tried, my husband and my children had tried with no success. I needed my parents as elders, to stand up for their daughter who had gone beyond the call of duty when their eldest daughter had died; who had looked after the boys who were left without a Mother at the ages of 14 and 21; who had given love and support to the Son-in-law left without the love of his wife. I needed my parents to endorse what my family and I had done and to be clear about what is right and what is wrong. They didn't do that for me.

I had stood by my parents through their tough times; had given them my support in every way. Why couldn't they do that for me?

Mum and I managed to have a decent conversation at least. I'm glad about that. She understood what I was saying and realised how hurt I felt. That's a start. Another positive to add to my list.

Fight with Mother.

I phoned my Mum today, I haven't spoken to her for about a week. She said she wasn't very well. She always says that - she never says she's ok or a bit better; she's always not well. I asked how my Dad was. She told me his Parkinsons is bad. Then I asked if my brother had been over to see her. She told me he had been over the day before. She said he wasn't doing too good. She thinks he's struggling to get into work and lookafter his kids and lookafter Mum and Dad. Tell me about it. I know what that's like. I've done it. I don't have small children but I do have poor health.

I feel bad for my brother. Will I go running to help him out? Not any more. I've done it for the past 5 years and more. There's no thanks in it, no prizes, no warm fuzzy feeling, nothing. My parents aren't the loving affectionate type. Not with any of us and not with their Grandchildren either. My Mum told me that I was loved by my Dad and her more than any of the others today. That's strange because it went right by me. I don't remember being told I was loved. Remember being told I was thick as 2 short planks - does that count? Remember being fed the same food day after day - chappatti with anchor butter and sugar or a variation of the ingredients - is that being loved? I wasn't told I was loved and I wasn't hugged or kissed; I wasn't shown any affection. I was told I ate too much and that I was fat. I was told I was lazy. My mum didn't dress us up unless we were going to the cinema as a family or if we were going to my paternal aunt's home. I didn't feel loved. I did feel terrified of my Dad. Everyday when he came home from work we all felt terrified. When we heard his motorbike at night we all used to run and hide under the dining table as if it were an air raid shelter.

My mum told me it was my duty to help my brother out being his older sister. Duty is a burden I've carried whether I was the older one or not; it didn't really make much difference. Because I was the type to get stuck in. To do what needed to be done. I wasn't all talk and no action. So everyone let me get on with it all. They probably thought - she loves it, let her get on with it. It became a habit, me doing it all and them letting me do it.

I asked my Mum if my sister nisha was helping our brother. I asked if it was her duty to help her younger brother with his responsibilities. Take some of the burden. I did this because over the last five and a half years she hasn't done much. My mum said she didn't want to talk about nisha. That's nisha off the hook then. Lucky her. I asked my mum if nisha was dead. Because that's the only excuse she would have for doing nothing for my brother.

My mum told me I shouldn't treat my nephews the way I am. What does she want me to do? Does she want me to take a lot of abuse and disrespect? Because that's what I've had for the past 12 months. It's up to me how much I let myself in for. If I let them, I'd get abuse every day. I won't let that happen. So I protect myself from them. I keep away from them. I don't phone or email or text or visit. If I did we would get into a slanging match. I get wound up, angry, frustrated, I shout and scream and swear and the situation gets out of control. Better to stay away.

My Mum told me I should have sent my neice a birthday card at least. She said it's wrong to involve the children. She's right. How do I get my brother to understand that he's hurt me, my husband and all my kids? I'm told it's wrong to hurt my niece. Is he told it's wrong to hurt his neices and his nephew? Yes my kids are grown up but they still needed their uncle, their Mama. They needed his support and love and attention. They needed to be heard too. Or did he think - they are the golden children, they have everything, they have 2 parents, they lack nothing, they don't need me to say what's right or wrong, they don't need my endorsement? Who knows. Not me.

My Mum said lots of things that hurt me. I didn't articulate my feelings to her. Instead I shouted and screamed. My Mum was getting upset, I could hear my Dad in the backgroung he was shouting. He obviously wasn't on my side. I don't blame him. It's not easy having a 49 year old daughter on the end of the phone upsetting your wife. He couldn't hear me so it could only be distressing.

As soon as I put the phone down I felt awful. I felt guilty for having put my Mother through all that hurt. I didn't think about myself. Didn't think that I had only told the truth and told her how I felt. That came later, slowly. For the next 24 hours I thought about calling my Mum back to say sorry countless times.

Doctor! Doctor!

I went to see the doctor today. I told him about having not taken my mood stabilisers for over 3 weeks. Also told him I had thought of taking an overdose in the last week; and told him I might be a little on the high side. Luckily he didn't seem too alarmed. The missed mood stabilisers were an opportunity to stop taking them; wow! I'm really happy about that. I've been on those tablets for years; for the last 2 or 3 years I've wanted to come off them but not without my GP's support. So result. Now just have to get off the antidepressants. Was hoping to have my dose reduced today but because I have come off taking mood stabilisers by default, my GP wants me to leave my antidepressants as they are. I'm happy with that - seems fair.

The overdose issue was cleared up too. I knew it was not what I really wanted for myself and my family. It was over quickly; I didn't dwell on the thought and I was able to recognise that my thoughts were not rational. So my doctor ressured me there isn't a problem. I agree with him. It was a selfish thought and not very clever. I need to rise above my problems, not make more horrid problems for my kids and husband.

Am I high? Nope. I can't get to sleep - high. I can't wake up in the morning; lucky to be up by lunchtime - depressed. I can't get into work 3 days a week - depressed. I'm not well motivated to do any cooking or housework - depressed. I have a sinus infection that I can't get rid of - depressed. I decided to write a blog - high/depressed - don't know but it is theraputic. My mind races at night when I'm tired and want to sleep - depressed. So I think it's quite clear, I'm not high.

So that's my doctor doctor experience today. Pretty good despite everything. A positive to help me be more positive.

Missed Birthday.

Today it was my niece's 5th birthday. I usually send her a birthday card, a present, send a text and phone her too. But today I did none of the usual. I'm in the middle of a family feud and it involves my brother as well as other family members. So his little girl is a casualty of the feud. Not very clever on my part. It doesn't make me feel good or proud or better about this feud. It doesn't solve or help anything. It's stupid and sad if anything.

I bought my niece a birthday card 2 years ago when she was 3. I bought her a card for her 5th birthday. They didn't have this card in a 3 years old or a 4 years old only a 5 years old. I loved it so I bought it. It has a bumble bee on the front, a big round bright yellow and black bumble bee. It's a lovely bee, it has some glitter on it too, just a little. I bought her a present too. It's a cute wooden heart with her name on it in her favourite colour-purple.

I'm punishing my brother if I'm honest. Not the sort of thing I would normaly do. I'm in a crazy mad sad bad situation. I'm feeling alienated by my entire family. I'm in a crap situation. My sister totally rejected me years ago in January '06 so I have no relationship with her. My nephew - the awful orphan - decided I was the devil incarnate on 29th december '08 or thereabouts. His brother follows what he says and does blindly so he has nothing to do with me. My brother isn't willing to say what is right and what is wrong so after spending a year trying to show him I'm a decent person without any success at all, I give up. So no relationship with him either. That leaves my parents. They are old and infirm. They can't be asked to advocate on my behalf because there's nothing in it for them. So no help there. My eldest sister died in May'04 and my brother who was younger than me died 14 months later. Then my sister's husband died October last year leaving my 2 nephews orphaned. If any of them had survived instead of died I may not have found myself in this situation.

I wish my brother in law were here for purely selfish reasons. If he were I would be fine. There would be no feud, there would be no acrimony, or mistrust, or misunderstandings, or hatred, or poison, or vitriol, or crap. Also my nephews would have the guiding hand of their Father over them and they wouldn't be orphans. It's obvious that the older one needed that because he's like a very small boat lost in a massive storm as well as a greedy little so and so. I can't remember having such an awful time with my family - ever. We had our arguments, we had our problems, our ups and downs like everybody. But this. Not in my worst nightmare.

We used to fall out with each other over stuff but after a while we'd sort it out. we always ended up talking to each other. We always included each other in our families lives; special occaisions and get togethers. The fights didn't go on and on.Problems were aired and talked or shouted over. That's normal isn't it. We didn't cut each other off or cut each other out. This is a new phenomenon. A new way. A different life. Not my cup of tea; not to my taste.

Getting back to my niece; I feel bad about doing this to her. It's the only way I can think of showing my brother that it hurts me when he hurts my kids. Now he knows how I feel.

Letter to Brother.

I wrote to my brother and hand delivered the letter to him yesterday. I don't think I've ever written to him before; maybe a postcard but that's it. I wrote him a 13 page letter! It was hand written though. On A4 paper! He didn't seem surprised; took it in his stride. I'm not sure if he's going to read it though; it might just go into the bin. I waited for a text from him last night and all day today. No text. So I'm in limbo. Yesterday was bad enough; I saw my brother after a while - I thought he might ask me how I was. He knows the situation with my nephew and knows I'm stressed out. He hardly sat with me and said very little. I was in my parents home for over an hour and he really wasn't too bothered about speaking to me. My baby brother; I was always there for him. I looked after him when he was a baby from the age of 2 weeks. I was 10 and a half years old. I was a second mum to him; carried him around, didn't drop him; used to feed him, change his nappies and play with him. There's nothing I haven't done for my brother.

Like a lot of Panjabi women, I'm sentimental when it comes to family. I lookafter everybody; make sure they are all fed and watered and comfortable. I take on a lot, too much. I've always put my family first before myself and sometimes before my own children and my husband.

So I expect something back. Respect, recognition, affection, concern, love. But in real life things don't work that way. I didn't get any of the above from my brother and when I would tell him about my problems he would sit on the fence, he wouldn't say yay or nay - nothing, not a dickie bird. He just sat there getting splinters in his butt. That used to make me crazy. I would end up shouting, then screaming and swearing like a trooper. Not good. But true. I'd be frustrated, he had all the facts at his disposal, he'd known me all his life - 38 years - surely he could make a sound judgement about me. Was I that bad a person that he couldn't give me any support. Was I rotten to the core that he couldn't give me any sympathy or empathy. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have spoken up for him to him. Why wouldn't I? If I disagreed with him I would have told him; I would have put him straight. So I do feel like crap. I do feel let down. I feel rejected. No wonder I'm feeling depressed after yesterday.

Not only depressed but I have blocked sinuses too; and when I got up today, I took my meds and realised I've forgotten to take my mood stabilisers for the last 3 weeks. Oh my God! What a mess. No wonder I've been feeling light headed, heavy headed and woozy. I'd put it down to lack of sleep. Obviously I was wrong.

No News

No news today on the debt recovery. No news from the bank and none from our solicitor. Early days I guess but that doesn't mean it's all good; it's not. Got no sleep last night. Slept at about 6.30 this morning; had been reading until 3am. Decided to go to see my Mum who came out of hospital today. Mum went in 2 weeks ago with jaundice and gall stones. Saw my Dad and brother too. Felt quite depressed while I was there; Mum was ok and my Dad was in good spirits too. I gave my brother a long letter before I left; I had decided to write to him, as when I try to talk to him about my problems I end up shouting, screaming and swearing instead.

Then I went to see my friend Mim for a sympathetic ear. Didn't go to work at all as I had woken up at 12.30pm and by the time I was ready to leave I felt bad about getting into work so late.

Will try harder. Will go to work tomorrow; hopefully after at least 5 hours sleep and will work for at least 5 hours. Trying to be positive.

Debt Recovery.

My first blog and it involves debt recovery. I'm living in my dream home; I've been here since February. My husband and my son built this house and it's a fabulous house. But the bank who we owe money to have decided that our case has to go to debt recovery and that means we could loose our home. I don't blame the bank. They have given us all of this year to solve a dispute my nephew has with my husband but now they feel debt recovery is the only way forward.

It's a scary situation to be in; potentially we could loose our home to the bank. It's not the kind of experience I would wish on anybody. It's a situation that is alien to me, a situation that I would never have believed I would find myself in- not in my worst nightmare. It's surreal. The sort of thing that happens to other people; not to me.

Today our lender sent our file to debt recovery. Over the last couple of weeks quite a few solicitors letters have flown to and fro between our solicitor and my nephew's solicitor trying to reach an agreement to avoid the case going to debt recovery. But no such luck of that happening! Somebody up there doesn't like me.

So from now I will live through this situation where I have little control of events and decisions being made about my future, my home, my family and my life. It's daunting and I'm not looking forward to it all but there's not a lot I can do about it, I have to face up to it and get on with living life even though it's not easy.

The past 12 months have been no picnic so I feel equipped to deal with worse. But how much stress and strain can a person take? I've found life too difficult to deal with this year. I'm not saying I became a hermit letting life pass me by but everyday life - work, family and home life - was a struggle. Just getting a nights sleep and being able to function the next day was a struggle. It got harder as the weeks went by. Trying to get into work was hard and it got harder every week; so I started taking annual leave just to stay off work. I only work 20 hours a week but found it such a chore trying to get in. As the weeks went by I felt as if I were slipping down the side of a very high hill that I had to climb. I was trying so hard to get where I needed to be but it was almost impossible. It felt as if I was loosing this battle. But every day I thought things would be better and I would be able to do better than the day before. I was wrong - every day was a bit worse, harder and I slipped further down the hill a bit more.