Threat Of Violence

Growing up I was always afraid of getting in trouble.  I’ve always said I don’t  I know why I  was so afraid or what specifically I was afraid of.  I’ve always said my parents didn’t hit me and I didn’t remember anything that might have instilled a threat of violence.  But I recently remembered two incidents in which that was not so.  I remember an incident when my sister and I were little girls, maybe six and ten years old.  We were arguing over a toy and my dad lost his temper and stormed up the stairs and snatched the toy from us and smashed it,  saying,  “now no one gets it!”.   I think it was the only time I saw my father behave violently.    But I must have known there was a temper lurking under the surface because I was afraid before that.   Perhaps it was verbal threats?   If ever I was on the verge of crying or being upset he’d say,  “wipe that look of your face or I’ll wipe it off for you”.    And,  “stop that crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”.

The other incident  involved my mother.   I think I might about been about twelve years of age.  We were camping.  I don’t know why we were camping because my mother hated it.  And I don’t know who we were camping with.  I think this might have been the defining moment when I learned that defending myself was not safe.   My mothers goading of me had taken its toll and I reached a breaking point.   One comment too many and I said something in defense of myself  (I don’t remember what)  and she back handed me (hit me) in the face.   Very dramatic and in front of everyone.  Her behaviour was inexcusable.  And of course I was reprimanded after the fact for making her look bad in front of other people.  It was my fault for making her behave badly.

My fears pre-existed these incidents.  My father was fairly passive in general  (aside from the remarks mentioned above) but it was as if he was always avoiding emotion.   As if he were afraid of losing control.   Perhaps he feared what anger might compel him to do.  God knows he was pushed to his limits.   My mother didn’t hide her aggression.   Her words were her weapon and she wielded them with deliberate and hurtful intentions.  She was as cruel to him as she was to me with her words.

 

How Did I End Up Like This?

How did my life end up like this?   Where did it all go wrong?   How did I end up penniless and struggling?  

When we bought this farm we had hope and loved everything about  being here.  For the first few years things were good.   I was involved with dog sport competitions and shows.  I taught at the HBSPCA  (Hamilton/Burlington Humane Society) and also rented my little hall in Burlington and held classes there.  I rescued dogs and found them homes.  We had a working riding lawn mower and I loved mowing the property.  It was my ‘zen’ time.   We had a water filtration system that worked and heat in the house.  But the house is old and things started to break down.   The cost of propane was draining us financially.  The house is not well insulated and there are lots of drafts.   Eventually we couldn’t afford the propane anymore and had to switch to electric heaters.   Then the water problems started.  Problems with the pump.   Problems with the filtration.  Dad would fix it and it would be okay for awhile and then it would break again.   Dad started to lose interest in the upkeep of the property and his health started to decline.  My work away from home started to fall away as I needed to be more available for my dad.   It got to where he needed to come everywhere with me and eventually that became too much for him.  My only away from home time work became our dog sport shows in the summertime.  Dad would come with me and sit in the car.   He declined the opportunity to get out of the car.  I can remember only two occasions when he got out of the car.  One was at the Port Perry Fair.  He got out and walked around a bit with his walker and sat and watched some events.  The other time was at the Barrie Fair.  I bought a small camper trailer and had special steps built for Dad to be able to traverse.  I wanted Dad to have somewhere to relax and be comfortable and be protected from weather should it rain.  That was the year Tiddly Wink was sick too.  I was having to give her IV fluids three times a day.  Dad didn’t  avail himself of the trailer.  He stayed outside on his walker.  It had a seat.   I had lawn chairs set out but he used his walker.   I spent the time in between shows with my father rather than hang out with my team.   I couldn’t leave him sitting alone all day.

As my dogs aged and retired from competitions, those activities fell away.    Oh I did get young dogs with plans to train them for shows, but life sort of got in the way.  Those young dogs are now middle aged dogs and have fallen through the cracks training wise.  I began boarding dogs and offering board and train services to replace teaching.  All my clients were referrals from other trainers.   I was so busy training other peoples dogs that I didn’t have time for my own.   My social life which was entwined with dog sports disappeared as my dogs retired and the demands of life made a social life prohibitive.   Life became driving back and forth to pick up and drop off boarding dogs in the city.   All day everyday was caring for them and taking care of dad.   Our income was a combination of Dads pensions and my boarding dogs;  and in the summertime, my Team K9 shows.  We were getting by but there wasn’t enough money to fix all the things that were going wrong with the house.   The riding mower broke down and we couldn’t afford to repair it or replace it.   Before Dad got sick he would have fixed it himself.  He was good at that sort of thing.   All my life we never hired anyone to fix anything.  My dad always took care of things.   And so it was here,  until his health declined.  So things broke down and there was no Dad and no money to fix them.  We just adjusted to not having things working.

Since Dad died things have just gone downhill.  Between the loss of his half of the household income and my subsequent emotional breakdown, life has just spiraled downwards.   Depression paralyzed me and therapy became my lifeline.  I had to cut back on boarding clients because I just didn’t have the mental and physical energy to do the job.   My interest in life waned.  Most of 2019 is a blur.  My mental health, anxiety, depression, and complex trauma dominated my life.   I was just starting to build my life back,  having gotten a job working for a dog training school, when covid hit.  March 2020 saw my boarding services shutdown.  No one was traveling.  Everywhere shutdown.  Including my new job.   Now I had no income.  Thankfully I was able to get my mortgage deferred for six months and between that and the CERB  (Canadian Emergency Relief Benefit) I was able to scrape by.  Seven months later the dog school was able to reopen and we had ten weeks of work before covid shut us down again.  December 26^th /2020 until February 15^th /2021.  Last week was our first week back.  I had two classes.  This week I’ll have four.   Registrations are slow to get going because we didn’t know until the last minute if we were included in businesses allowed to reopen.

My life  fell apart  in February 2019.  It’s been two years now since I started therapy.  The pandemic has not helped.  I’m financially destitute.  I’m in a constant struggle with depression and anxiety.  I’ve cried more in the past two years that I have in my entire lifetime.  I’ve contemplated suicide.   I’m so deep in debt that I can’t see a way out.  My house and property are a mess.  There’s no money to fix anything.  The past two years have been a steady descent to rock bottom.  And here I sit in a house with no heat, no running water,  three electrical outlets that work, and a giant hole in the roof.   It’s winter.  It’s cold.  I’m wearing thermal long johns under fleece pj sweats;  five top layers  (a tank,  a t-shirt,  a long sleeve shirt,  a sweatshirt, and a hoodie); a toque; mittens; thermal socks and foot warmers in my shoes.   That’s my indoor attire!   The short haired dogs are wearing fleece coats 24/7.   I can only work at the computer for a short period of time because the kitchen is so cold and my hands start to freeze.   The computer is in the kitchen because that’s where the working outlet is.  I’m not sure we can survive another winter like this.  Heck there are days I don’t think I’ll survive this winter.