Full Disclosure

Dear Grammie,

I'm sorry it's been awhile since I've last written. Things here have been difficult. I don't even know where to begin, so I guess I'll just dive in and see where it leads me.

I can't live with Kaboodle anymore. The hoarding has gotten too difficult for me to deal with. I suppose I shouldn't have let it go on so long, but I didn't really understand what was at hand with her. My hopes of her getting treatment are slim. I know her and her family too well. I can barely stand to be here anymore. I want to put a bullet in my brain then I won't have to deal with it anymore.

I have no where to go now that you're gone. Your house is gone. I'm alone and pretty much hopeless. I can't see a way out of this. Mum said we could find an apartment for me, but all the apartments around here are so cheaply made and crappy that I hate being in them. I hate being surrounded by people that may start my home on fire because they're drunk and stupid. I hate the thought of being in apartment and I hate the thought of being here. I feel like there's just no hope anymore. I'll either be trapped in this pig sty or trapped in some shitty apartment. Pardon the swear, but crappy just wouldn't cut it. I just loathe the idea of living in an apartment beholden to someone else and their candles. Oh, there are more reasons than that, but I can't list them all. I suppose the facts that someone might set it on fire and that it's not mine are the big ones, though. It's like they build the buildings out of cardboard and their kitchens are so cheaply made it makes me cringe to set foot in them.

I did some reading on hoarding at the Mayo Clinic site. The web address is:

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/hoarding/DS00966

I was saddened to see that hoarding is harder to overcome if an immediate family member exhibits symptoms. Kaboodle's father and brother are hoarders, I believe. I don't expect her to change. I don't expect her to even acknowledge it as a problem. I expect tears and anger and shouting. I'm not usually disappointed. It's like I woke up and discovered I was in some kind of hell.

In addition to our downstairs toilet being broken, the bathroom sink in there is also broken. Kaboodle's friends subcontracted the plumbing to their drunken buddies who thought it would be okay to tape the pipes together instead of cement them. I could just cry. Does she think it's important enough to fix? Nah. Just let it sit there for who knows how long just like the toilet. Can't hardly get to them anyway there's too much junk all over.

Just as an aside, I hate these new Macbook chicklet-style keys. My fingers slip all over them and don't stay on the right keys. Irritating as hell.

I wish you were here. I wish that so much. I need your advice. I need your shoulder. I need your smile. I need a hug. Mum tries to help but she takes so bloody long to do anything I might as well wait for the next ice age. It makes me want to scream. It all makes me want to cry.

There just is no point anymore, Gram. I feel like there's no light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, there's no tunnel either. It feels like I've been buried alive and I'm just inhaling cold soil instead of air. I don't want to dig anymore. I just want to lay down and stop fighting. Stop trying. There's just no way out.

I miss you Grammie.


Love you always,
Kit