I left off with the two of us moving back to the Mohawk Valley, with my family. My grandma took us in, and we started looking for a job for Keith. I was pregnant and hurting a lot (I had recently had a sharp downswing in my EDS, worsening symtpoms, and I hadn’t learned how to cope with it yet) and frankly I couldn’t get a job that paid more than child care would cost. So I was going to be a stay at home mom.

Keith got a job at the gun factory he works at now. My father, who is paranoid schizophrenic, was having severe delusions about us and my grandmother thought it best that we just go, so we found a new place to live. I was pregnant and angry all the time, both off my medications and severely hormonal and in a lot of pain. I took the first opportunity to go–I became caretaker for a woman in hospice. My stepfather’s ex wife, who had remained a family friend and gotten to know me in particular very well (she was an excellent source of history on my scumbag stepfather) and she welcomed us into her home in return for care.

Keith was supportive through it all. It was very, very difficult for me. I was underqualified and inexperienced and couldn’t handle how far it went when she started to go. I’ll write about it another time, but it was a very bad time (it includes more than just her, but a member of my family as well. After my current project I’ll write that one). She soon died.

So Keith and I were left with and ticking time bomb. The house wasn’t going to be our home for long–we may have had rights as tenants, but we were not going to be able to stay there long-term. I had the baby, and it was not a good place to raise and baby.

In the meantime, I had my writing, while Edwin took rare naps or played in his bouncy. I found my community and friends online and I was writing more and more and I was connecting with people like I never had before. I was not sleeping–the entire time we were in that house, which was over ten months, he never slept more than two hours at a time. I am glad I have a blog from that time, because otherwise I cannot remember what happened during this time. But I have read them, so I can tell you.

Keith had gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. He had been supportive (although he took control of money away from me because I had severely misused it, I was too tired to function right and I was not that good with money, I was so young and immature) and at the time I gave birth, he declared me the most beautiful woman ever, and was so present during Edwin’s early health problems that kept him in the hospital. He helped out when we finally got home…for a time.
But somehow along the way he fell back into old habits. Probably the monetary stress I caused, added onto the stress of a new baby, and raising a baby who is autistic and started showing signs (revealing to me that I am in fact autistic myself). And…well, things were rough. I was angry and off meds, he was angry, and…he did horrible things. We yelled a lot. And one time, he put his hands on me. I had never been more scared. I started plotting how I could escape.

I’ll continue this later.


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