Today I am thankful for time.
It has been seven years to the day since I lost my favorite office in Arvada.
It was in a professional building that was a pharmacy when I was growing up.
This is the pharmacy where I bought cards for Tom, my high school sweetheart. He bought me stuffed animals.
There were so many memories in that place.
My office was the one that used to be the room where they filled and stored the drugs. I still had the little sliding window!
I loved it.
For the three years I was there, it felt like home.
It really felt like home.
When I locked up in the winter, I looked at the door and remembered Tom and I huddled with our hot cocoa in the doorway on cold winter nights.
It always made me smile.
The day I lost my office was the day Tom and I met for lunch for the final time. He had a question for me but every time he asked it, I heard a whistle.
I looked to my right and saw two people watching me intently. They looked familiar but I couldn't recognize them in their hats and coats.
During the lunch, my phone rang and I ignored it.
Tom left. It was the saddest good-bye ever. He approached me from behind after I ran to the powder room. I could feel the sadness emanating from him.
He hugged me. We walked to his car and he drove off.
That was when Doug approached me and called me Satan. He tried to push me but some men on the street intervened.
I would later learn that he went into my office and hassled my billing clerk demanding to know where I went to church. It scared my office-mates so much, I gave up my office and rented one in another city.
Shortly after Doug grabbed me, I checked my phone and saw that my ex-husband had called me wanting to know if I were okay.
It was too surreal.
It broke my heart when the police told me my ex-husband was behind it.
I'll never forget the date. It was 1-11-11.
I miss that office. It was decorated with jazz motifs. On Friday, the coffee shop next door would have live jazz musicians.
My cousin and his wife owned the bridal shop next door. My uncle would faint when he saw me lock up my office because I looked exactly like my mom (his deceased sister who died on her 36th birthday).
I could see young children playing in the fountain outside of my window.
An acoustic guitar was shop was one block away. I took vocal lessons there on Fridays.
It was common to see old friends from high school roaming the streets on the weekends.
It was wonderful.
I never wanted to leave work!
How many people are lucky enough to work in a place that feels like home?
******
Even if I wanted to go back to the way things were, I can't.
My cousin died in 2014. Now, if one were to look outside my old office window, they would see that the city erected a clock in his honor.
It's just a reminder that life isn't fair.
I have another office. I don't use it because I'm currently working two other part-time jobs trying to get on full time at one of them in the hopes that it will give me health insurance for the kids. I'm on my own. I have to do whatever it takes.
I may have to stop working one of the jobs for my health.
Three hours of sleep a night tend to lead one to the flu and a cough that won't quit. I'm realizing that I can't keep trying to make my ex and the state happy. If I work myself to death, the taxpayers will have to pay to raise my kids. I have to cut back.
*****
This morning I realized that it has been about two years since a man has grabbed me on the street and threatened me.
I haven't quite had a year free of hacking or property damage.
Perhaps, maybe, the physical stalking is finally over.
Maybe living in poverty is worth it.
*****.
I am writing to document what I found out today.
I mentioned the pills I found to the nineteen year old.
She stated that she thought she had packed all of his opioids away. Apparently there are several bottles in a box that was moved into the storage unit that my ex wanted me to pay for not too long ago.
She also told me that when she had her root canal, her father took her oxycodone saying that he would dispose of it for her.
If this is true, it means that he truly does have a drug and/or alcohol problem.
I understand CO-PEP's justification now. I just wish they were more forthcoming with the information. If I had known he was an addict, I would have not had the lawyer request information about his finances. It cost me $3,670 just to find out what was going on.
I would have changed the visitation agreement to include some type of mental health professional.
I probably need to get them all therapists now. I've got to figure out where to get the money.
That's okay.
My ex won't be out until most of the kids are in college.
I'll hire an attorney to solidify visitation prior to my ex seeing the youngest.
It turns out that I was wrong.
My ex was a drug addict.
How flippin' dense can I be?
It does explain why he can't hold a job.
He probably failed the drug screens at his jobs and that is why he couldn't hold them the last two years after we were divorced.
Ah, live and learn.
If his storage unit was foreclosed upon, I wonder who wound up with all those drugs?
If he had that many, wouldn't it have been illegal?
I sure hope the police are contacted.
There is no reason for someone to have more than one bottle of an opioid pain-killer.
I'd be curious to know where he got them.
No matter.
The drug addiction explains a lot; it explains the bizarre behavior and the missing money.
Sigh.....
Hopefully this nightmare is finally over.
Love ya,
S.