Welcome to tokoni

I'm still a little hazy on dharma and karma, but I  was told by a fairly well-known psychic that I came in with a "heavy load" (that wasn't too happy-making). She said I was a "walking keg of dynamite that could heal or kill with a thought."  Well, wonderful to know about yourself.  This proved to be too true, to my temporary mental undoing in my late 20s.

This karmic cycle brought with it many, many obstacles to overcome (that "heavy load" I guess) : Ego (lack of self-esteem) .  Procrastination (indecisiveness, insecure about my true abilities). Having to be dragged to enlightenment, kicking and  screaming (resistant/afraid of change).  Another spiritual shortfall of mine is being unwilling to let go of pissed-off-ness when I-- or someone I care about, or someone who is lacking in the personal power to defend him/herself--is being treated unfairly, though to be fair, I must add that, if it's me own self I'm defending, it usually takes a lot of intentional abuse to push my buttons if stress is not a factor.  

My weapon of choice is the tongue, which can be worse than a knife, as we all know. It has taken me 60 years to begin to put a cork in it when I lose my temper.

Preface

I moved out of my house and in with my mother when she came out of the hospital following her last surgery for colon cancer, resulting in an ileostomy. That will be her last major surgery, no doubt, for at age 94 any other invasive ordeals may not be met well. She has an iron will, but the past 6 years have been only tolerable for her. She is fiercely independent and that trait has survived her loss of memory and cognitive skills. It has translated into repetitive attempts to control SOMETHING, even if it is only locking and relocking the front door.

Her non-specific dementia began following a car accident: She had been on her way to care for a client (her fourth career, a very good CNA, still working at age 80) and a 20-something year old from out of town ran a red light and blindsided her, inflicting a head injury and brain trauma, we later learned.The symptoms only gradually emerged. Memory confused, gradually failing, paranoid delusions about a neighbor's son, confusion, inability to find her way around town while driving. Classic symptoms.

Her attorney in the matter cheerfully threw her to the wolves, choosing to address me in front of her and say that actuarial tables only gave her 11 more years at the most to live, so her injury case would not be very "sellable" to a jury, strongly advising a settlment for very little over medical costs.  Closer scrutiny of his smarmy physical "tells" he was revealing led me to believe there was something else involved in his push to settle, and a hidden agenda, exactly why he had assigned the case to a new hire whose brief of Mom's case read like a high school junior who wanted to be a lawyer someday when he grew up rather than a document prepared by a qualified attorney who had actually sat for and passed the state bar. I proofed her brief with a merciless red pen and sent it back to her along with my research on brain trauma, which she wasn't even aware of or hadn't even bothered to research.the fix was in.

My blunt questioning when he would not meet Mom's eye forced him to disclose that he had two six-figure settlements pending with the same insurance company. He was throwing her to the wolves to settle high on the bigger ticket items. Mom was frightened over her new problems, had shoulder pain also, and was exhausted from the ordeal and wanted to withdraw. (She had an innate fear of authority, and to her the fine lawyer in the thousand dollar suit and shiny shoes and the possibility of having to testify and be badgered in a courtroom was "authority nightmare" big time.She even insisted on paying the son of a bitch his 30% fee.)

[Okay, President Obama, there's your first REAL challenge to return America to a state of grace: reform the judicial system so that a citizen actually DOES have rights and protections under the law, regardless of the presence or absence of a sleaze-bag attorney.]

(pardon my digression....)

 Enter Catwoman

After I ran out of refinance money from my home, I seemed to be being pushed by something to rent a couple of rooms in my unoccupied house, something i had tried to avoid at all costs. finally, I gave in before I had to be eyeballing foreclosure, telling myself it was time "do a good deed" and thus temporarily postponing my dfream of opening an office for Reiki  & Psychic readings (For some weird reason, Spirit has made me a pipeline for all forms of healing and "Spiritual direction" readings. I've backed away for decades unless pushed into it because I could not charge for what was basically a gift, and very often people who need my services have little money anyway.

I still don't know how to deal with it. So I send healing anonymously and give readings for free. I could never get the image of  Christ preaching to the multitudes and then with love an compassion feeding them with loaves an fishes. only to watch in shock as the apostles wended through the crowds saying, "Okay, two loaves and a fish, that's 2 pieces of silver." I don't think that flies.)

Anyway, back to the great social experiment. My objective was to offer affordable group home type housing to people who were changing gears in their lives, trying to get back on track, from whatever point they fell off, a safe and secure place to live in a peaceful neighborhood while regrouping. I was thinking people in transition, divorced, former drug abusers, people changing careers later in life, those who could not afford apartments but certainly deserved a fairly decent place to stay.People who had seen the error of their ways and had changed their lives for the better. People who would go on to sin no more. And hopefully pay me. I had high hopes and good intentions, which led to the usual place. Truthfully, I had bee nnudged i nthat direction a longtime and finally gave in to it.  Spirit is relentless..lol.

When my first tenant blew in from Texas via Craigslist (beware that...), "Cat Woman" I'll call her, I was so trusting I left the key to the house with a neighbor across the street, allowed her to move in one night with no deposit, and didn't check her references (or her criminal record). When I went over to meet her, my first thought was, "uh oh." two cats, not one like she said.She airily informed me that she "just couldn't leaver her other little baby" but had not bothered to tell me. She didn't have the money for the deposit promised, nor could she pay a month in advance as agreed. She also seemed to be swaying on her feet just a little bit as we talked. Her hands trembled uncontrollably. Having had a beloved uncle who was an alcoholic and two other uncles who struggled and stopped drinking, I recognizedthe symptoms.She apparently, over the course of a considerably long time, had drunk a great deal more than the "occasional glass or two of wine" she had copped to over the phone.  She had a great little tan, from laying out at the pool, I ventured to myself, while someone else took care of her father as he died of Alzheimer's. Although she had told me she had been his "sole caregiver" for the last year until his death, my instinct based on her visual was that she was not capable of taking care of herself, much less a dependent father sufferign with dementia. The more I observed her behavior, the more the entire song-and-dance story she had fed me became patently false. 

[And yes, I am psychic, and all my intuitions proved true. I had stepped into a shitpile. BUT, I knew that Spirit had nudged me to rent to her for a reason so I sighed and pressed on...]

Cat Woman proved to be a petite, feminine wily blonde more than a little worse for wear as a result of hard drinking and drugging and self-indulgence. A spoiled brat waiting on a settlement from a sister resulting from Cat Woman's unceasing effort to break her father's will, CW obviously had the looks and attitude of a woman who was used to being kept in a style a lot grander than my little 1500 sf house in middleclass urbia.  She had the look of a woman who had lived off men all her life, actually. A tiny blonde bombshell, sadly with emphasis on shell at age 50. Hard living had definitely caught up with her.

[Oddly, in a photo I saw later on that was taken shortly before her eviction (for facebook or something) she looked healthy, neat and clean, smiling confidently. In view of the stark realities of her life and her actual appearance~~greasy unwashed bleached blonde hair hanging in disarray, glazed eyes, sloppy clothes, weaving as she tried to stand upright~~the temporary transformation for the photo shoot was nothing less than miraculous. She was amazingly photogenic!]

Dr. Dad apparently had excluded her ~~and her brother~~totally, leaving all to the one child who had gone on to get a degree and be functional in the  real world. I think there was a trust being watched over by the Good Daughter. After a very short time of interaction with CW, I did not wonder why her dad chose not to endow her with easy access to any money. She would be drugged-out dead and/or dead broke in short order.

Her father had been a shrink with big bucks who had Alzheimer's. Knowing that disease does not develop overnight and that he had just died the year before, I could only conclude that Catwoman's life path must have been one foot off the track for some time, since he himself wrote the will, she said. I can imagine his reluctance to give access to a huge sum of money to a long-term addict with a drinking problem.  

Again, Why me? I was trying to help people. SO far  I was simply offering low-cost housing that encouraged alcoholism, drug abuse, unemployment and slovenliness.

Catwoman had allegedly come to NC to "start over" and become a minister, to study at the Jim-and-and-Tammy Bakker-Replacement-Show called Morningstar Ministries, located in the Bakker's formerly-gold-fauceted PTL digs in Tega Cay, SC, just over the NC/SC border. 

She had told me over the phone absolutely she had no drug problems, only suffered from depression and took medicine for it, received a small Social Security disability check (which was why I cut the rent to a third for her).

Later I realized that depression and  drug abuse must have been her disability,   thanks to the  apparently endless prescriptions provided by her Uncle, family shrink #2, ,   and the services of what must have been a pretty slick and/or well-connected lawyer. 

She assured me that the  one cat she was bringing was spayed.  Zero truth there, as she came dragging TWO (unspayed) cats with her. (Nothing against cats here, I had 7 of them and 5 dogs at one time in my life. I love animals, Which is why I was so annoyed that she was drinking but not even buying them another lotter box. My cats, I remember, were basically very clean pets when basic sanitation needs were met.)

The small Social Security check was small indeed, as she had worked very little in her 50-year life, although she kept herself in alcohol, drugs and cigarettes, she was never able to pay the agreed on additional utilities bills she ran up during her stay.

Her self-proclaimed status as a "Christian" --with an associate's degree in theology, even---I won't comment on. She was trying to be, yes, maybe, she went to meetings and said praise the Lord a lot, but did nothing to  help herself.

When Morningstar Ministries didn't welcome her with open arms and enroll her for free as she expected, she was further flummoxed that they would not even help her find a job!  Not too connected to a mirror there. She was a visibly shaky, stringy-haired, sloppily attired basket case addict. She was, in fact, not a reformed anything, with an obvious alcohol and drug problem that she indulged as she waited for God to do all the work and "fix it", it appeared.

No surprise that they didn't hire her as a representative of their church. However, when I appraoched the ministrry to actually HELP the woman, perhaps offer her some personal counseling, they said they "didn't do that."

That flummoxed ME.

Catwoman's big plans based on someone else''s largesse fell through, so she immediately started whining and spent her time popping prescription pills washed down by wine drunk from fine baccarat crystal glasses she had brought with her from Dad's place, probably and watching movies she managed to find money to rent.     I realized later that she had other money she simply lied about.                    

She called to complain about "flies everywhere" about a month after she moved in. Mysitifed, I went over and saw the catfood-encrusted plates, piled up dirty dishes, general condition of the house, the cat crap all over the floors, living, bedroom kitchen, hall and bathroom, etc., I said well duh yeah and explained to her the concept of sanitation to prevent insect proliferation. She was evidently not a great student of cause and effect. The house had become one giant catfood/litter box recycling station with germs and bacteria freely distributed by flies who were admitted into the house because she bent the screen and left the window open (and the AC on) for her cats to go in and out. The existence of the newborn kittens she withheld from me until I discovered them myself. The resulting crap/pee mess was unbelievable.  They shat willy-nilly hither and yon and at their pleasure, since there was only ONE litterbox for 2 cats and 9 kittens. Cats are very picky, and they simply refused to use ONE overflowing litterbox  ----the Catwoman had not bothered to get other litterboxes when the kitties were born. So that was 11 cats and one litterbox. Arp...

That was just plain animal neglect and unspeakable sloth. If she could afford to rent a movie, she could go to the dollar store and get a couple of litter boxes and a bag of litter.

As I stood there staring in shock at this scene,  the feral-acting mama of the second litter narrowed her eyes at me and hopped up, squatted and urinated on the newly bought-for-the-tenant queen-sized mattress. Et tu, brute? That is cat talk for "get her to fix the litterbox situation,"

I discovered Catwoman had moved into the bedroom that was mine while I lived in the hosue when her own floor got too disgusting, rather than go to the trouble of cleaning anything up. She had let the kittens on the bed too, a couple of which peed on my comforter and new sheets. DIdn't reach the mattress, thank you Jesus.

 Doing Spirit's work is sometimes a bit off-putting.

I got her two extra litter boxes, called an ambulance the next week when she called me after she OD'd, cleaned up the house when she got out of the hospital...and finally evicted her.

I was not a bit happy with Spirit and expressed my dismay in no uncertain terms. I was not a cheerful giver.

Spirit then explained that my allowing her to come here and use my house was so that she would relocate here. that my part in her transformation was finished. thank you very much. 

When I asked why did *I* have to take the heat ?

Spirit chuckled and calmly replied, "You'll be fine."  How reassuring, I thought, as I scraped cat feces off the floor. Peering into the overflowing garbage can, I saw the last pillow my mother had made for me, quilted by hand---- with cat crap all over it.

Okay. I had warned Catwoman that when someone screws over me, they get instant karma. I did advise her of that unfortunate (for her)  truth. In advance.

And so it was. I evicted her out of self defense after a long time of trying to cut her slack, responding to her wine-soaked phone call at 2 in the morning telling me to "call an ambulance" she couldn't breathe. I cleaned up the house for her while she recuperated from "gastric distress" (read drug/wine OD). I got her some(almost impossible to obtain free vouchers for spaying her poor unsupervised cats because they needed someone to get them fixed.

She expressed her gratitude by doing about $1000 damage to my floors and furniture.

[Make that $1700+    Add reupholstery. The sofa in the den was soaked in cat urine, I discovered later. ]

I did manage to negotiate a revised settlement in a post-dated check. It is still worthless. She had gotten news that her settlement for Dad's money was coming through shortly after the eviction. Spirit told me to advise her, "Check the fine print."  So I gave her the message (she was out of my house by that time, but I dutifully delivered the message). She airily told me that the only thing left was for a judge to sign the order. Spirit instructed me to repeat,   "'Check the fine print'," so I did.

The settlement is still "pending"  5 months after it was supposedly a "done deal." Spirit is never wrong.

She found another place to stay...in the WRONG side of town for a person with a drug problem. She was promptly arrested for DWI. I felt a little guilty that I had not contacted her new host and warned him/her. But then, I would have been stuck with her longer.So I kept my peace. After she was arrested, she was evicted from that place.

Before she left, Spirit toldme to deliver a final message that was more private, so I opened up, stepped aside, and let Spirit have at it. When I "came back"  Catwoman didn't respond, was looking down at the floor, appearing angry, sullen ...and a little frightened. I don't know what Spirit said. But it obviously caught her attention and unsettled her.{When these messages come I am gently moved aside. I hear nothing that is said, by the way.]

                                                                   @@

Perhaps she took whatever was said to heart, because

the last I talked to her, when she called to say the settlement was not done yet, she sounded at least sober. That was a good thing. She said she would call me from Hawaii as soon as the judge signed the papers. (Her brother was taking them both to Hawaii for Christmas).   

{Update: January 6th 2AM my time:  she called  me---zonked--- from Hawaii to tell me the settlement was not done yet. Two more weeks. It's  NOW January 16 .Check is still worthless.]

  I continue to attract (non-paying) tenants with self-esteem and coping issues that I'm supposed to help (according to Spirit). I hope I manage to do this before I am foreclosed on.

I think this nightmare is to force me back to having faith in Spirit exclusively and to paddle my own canoe...lol. MY control obviously is nil. So I decided, what have I got to lose? It's supposed to be, I ask, I'm given. . Easy enough. you guys can be my witnesses. I will tell you if it works.

  I pretty much know it does.But I'll post on here as it develops, Like a Polaroid picture...while you watch..lol.

PS I am not a typist. See  I told you I will amways tell the truth. er always--in my posts.

 But ..ya gotta laugh. This was a Keystone Kops kinda thing......lol