2016/2017

2016/2017

At the start of 2016 I began searching through Realtor.ca for rentals. It was time to start our married life…on our own.

I knew we couldn’t afford to purchase – mortgage payments were not the issue, as it is for most, coming up with the downpayment was the issue. 

I was paying the household bills; car payments, groceries, cell phones, cable/internet, etc. I was also paying ‘rent’ to the Italian’s mother because we were living in her house, using up water and electricity etc. And yes we did have to sort of force her to take it – that’s just how European families are – it’s a “my house is your house” mentality with family. I foolishly thought that paying rent would somehow provide us with privacy or autonomy within the household. NOPE. That’s another European trait – all children who enter this house will be treated like children…forever, and ever, and ever (picture the twins from The Shining) And the Italian was obligated to continue with child support payments to the whore as well as various sundry expenses for the ‘children’.

Now, even though the whore and her whore husband regularly kept the children from the Italian and his side of the family and actively encouraged their mistreatment of their father; even with that behaviour, the Italian’s criteria for our home included must have items that would make it welcoming for his children. 

The Italian’s criteria:

1. A pool – because they wanted one
2. A second bedroom – so either of them could stay over whenever they wanted
3. It had to be near a highway so that he could easily get to work or travel to pick up his children for visits
4. A gym in the building
5. Parking in the building. No street parking for his lordship.

My criteria:

1. A dishwasher
2. Pet friendly because we had George at the time
3. Close to downtown so that I didn’t have to take the subway or so that I could walk to/from work if I had to
4. Close to at least 1 grocery store so that I wouldn’t have to drive to pick up groceries
5. Lots of windows

The neighbourhood where we focused our search was just west of the city and close to the lake, on the streetcar line, two minutes to the highway, had three major grocery stores within walking distance, a vet and a groomer within walking distance for George. And did I mention that it was near the lake? Also, it was affordable – but…

After months of looking at condos and being outbid on all of them, yes OUTBID…for a rental, the Italian lost his job.

He called me right after it happened. I was at work and looking forward to another condo viewing that afternoon. I was stunned and heartbroken, and angry, and so many other things that day. I stepped in to a quiet room in the office, closed the door and cried.

Here’s the thing – I know that I live in a first world country and that I am very fortunate to have the things and opportunities that I have, but I still cried when the life I thought I would have with my husband was not going to happen.

So, I told our real estate agent that we we were no longer in the market for a rental and I stopped looking. One day the Italian asked why we weren’t looking at condo’s anymore. He said that because he received a severance as well as health benefits for another year, we could move and he could take his time looking for a new job. Yay! The next day I called the agent and we were back in business. It wasn’t long (like a week) before I found two condos for rent each with everything we wanted. We had to bid higher than the asking rental price (again…bidding on rental :/) but we managed to secure the lease on a two bed, two bath, parking included, light drenched, south facing condo with awesome views of the lake. I mean we could see clear across the lake to Niagara Falls! I was so happy. 

We moved in the fall of 2016 and the Italian’s mother was not happy that we were leaving. In fact, I said that we could leave George with her during the week if she wanted but she refused because she was angry, which was fine by me. I didn’t really trust her with him anyway. She was becoming forgetful, leaving pots on the stove and falling asleep with things in the oven, not filling George’s water dish with fresh water or letting it dry out altogether and leaving him on the porch without his leash when she knew he was a flight risk. Yeah, better that he came with us.

The children visited often and the Italian was happy about that. The boy child never stayed overnight – stretching the umbilical that far for that long was too painful for him, but the girl child stayed a few times. She said that her family was ‘bonkers’ and she needed to get away from them. She even stayed with us for Christmas in 2016! I think this is where I started to become the WickedStepMother – at least in the whore’s mind. Her girl child, wanted to stay with the Italian and me, and my mother, for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and boxing day.

Those last few months of 2016 were awesome and 2017 was looking bright. We were in our own space. We painted the walls the colours we wanted, placed our furniture where we wanted to, and there was nobody to say boo about it. We were making our own decisions as a couple.

We invited the Italian’s mother over so many times but she only ever came once with the Italian’s sister. My family were over all the time. My mother stayed over, we hosted holiday meals, but only my family showed up. My family from out west even stayed over instead of staying in a hotel for a whole week.

I was walking everyday. Walking by the lake, walking to groceries, walking home from work. Walking in the sunshine, the rain, snow, whatever the weather. I was losing weight, my skin was a normal colour again. My hair stopped falling out. I was so happy.

However, once 2017 was up and running, it became clear that we would not be able to stay. The Italian needed hip surgery and would require supervision afterwards. So, by the end of August, 2017 we started packing everything up again and began the process of moving it all back to the house. Back to the neighbourhood that pummelled me, physically (I gained 45 lbs), emotionally (I cried everyday and still do), mentally (dark thoughts always…still).

The Italian’s mother was so happy and wouldn’t take a dime from us for rent. This time I was ok with it; I wasn’t about to pay to have my privacy invaded. I would still pay for all of the groceries, gas, cell phones and any outings with the Italian.

I was in a deep depression for rest of 2017 and haven’t been able to claw my way out of it since. Again, I understand how privileged I am, but I’m still allowed to want the things that I want for my life.

I hoped 2018/2019 would bring happier times but…no.