After my mom and little brother moved out of the house it was my older brother and I living there. We occasionally had roommates she would find. The longest of which were Mikey and Tyler, they smoked crack (literally). Another story for another time. There wasn't furniture throughout, although our rooms were still furnished. After she moved out she decided to fix our house up and sell it. Her fixing the house up consisted of snorting a veritable shit ton of adderall, staying up all night and trying to do jobs that licensed contractors should've been doing. She would regularly wake me up at 3 in the morning demanding I help her tile the kitchen or "get the fuck out." She had been doing this since I was a kid, she'd wake me up in the middle of the night to clean the dishes I hadn't washed properly the first time or to start a project for school that was due in three weeks. Anyway, it's important to note that she has absolutely no taste, and the house is just about the tackiest piece of shit in the entire world. It could've actually been a nice house, it's six bedrooms, has a huge deck, etc. Outside of the front door she put up a little Virgin Mary statue to give the impression that she was a good person. She also put conch shells along the garden and walkway to the house. Her drug addiction just got worse and worse, she eventually just ended up painting and repainting every room in the house a million different colors and a means of "fixing it up."

She was still living in Edgewater but was still coming down very frequently to fuck up the house. One time she came down in the middle of the day, I would be turning twenty in four or so months so it was probably around October or November. I know it was cold. She was high as a kite and apparently couldn't find her pills. She did this often, took all of her pills and didn't remember. She'd tell her doctor they were stolen so she could get another prescription. This time she started accusing my brother and I of stealing her pills. "Give me my pills you stupid fucking bitch or get the fuck out of my house." Then she called the cops, which I encourage. When the cop got there she told him her looney story about how my brother stole her pills, then how I stole them. She couldn't keep her story straight and the cop saw through her. I calmly explained to him that she did this so she could get another prescription. "Get her the fuck out of my house." And that was it. He told me I had to go. I'd been kicked out several time before but it wasn't permanent, she didn't live there so I still could. This time I was really banned, which sucked because I had no job, no car and nowhere really to go. My brother and I ended up at our grandmother's apartment, an efficiency, not even a one bedroom. I gathered my most favorite clothes into a large trashbag, the clothes I wore the most. They were all I had really. Hell, I might've been homeless but at least I would be well dressed. When I went back for everything else, my t-shirts, expensive ski clothes, everything of mine was gone. It sucked but I parted with it okay.

Living at my grandmother's was no picnic. I felt bad to invade her space, but I think she was lonely anyway and enjoyed having us. I hadn't met my boyfriend, Mike at this point and started to turn my life around yet, so most of this time was spent partying with friends. I spent a lot of time with my friend, Joel, who was going through a break up. We got drunk just about every single night. Surprisingly I wasn't unhappy. I just fell into the pattern of drinking excessively. Don't get me wrong, I had nothing and wasn't satisfied with not being in school or having a job, but life could've been worse and I knew it.

My grandmother's building manager eventually caught on to the fact that we were living there and kicked us out. Then I really had nowhere to go. I hated to impose on my friends and my dad wasn't an option, as he had moved to Edgewater so he could be close to my little brother. The building manager was coming by one day to make sure all of our things were out of the apartment, so in an act of desperation I called Joanna. She had essentially been kicked out of the house in Edgewater and was living in a nice hotel nearby. I asked her to come pick me up. She was high, naturally. I had all of my clothes with me and I put them in her car. We went to her hotel. I can't remember what the hell she started yelling at me about but we ended up in a huge fight. I had been drinking and had some beers in my purse. I told her I'd be back for my clothes and I left. As I was walking away from the hotel contemplating my next move and who I could call, I saw two cops driving toward me. I knew she had called the cops on me but wasn't sure why. There was a hill next to me that I basically threw myself down to hide. I was still underage, and on top of that on probation for a DUI I got when I was 19. She knew this. I don't know how long I stayed there. It was wet. It was spring and the night was cold. Eventually I thought they had to be gone, I didn't hear any cars and hadn't in a while. Stupid me.

Just as I had walked up the hill a cop pulled up.
"We've been looking everywhere for you!" Ugh.
They took me back up to my mom's hotel room. When she say me she exclaimed, "I've been so worried! Are you okay?" She always did this in front of societal figures, cops, doctors, teachers. She would put on this fake, sweet voice and pretend that she actually cared if I lived or died. It made me unbelievable angry. It turns out she had called the cops and told them I threatened to commit suicide and left. She had started this when I was about 14. She would kick me out of the house but then call the cops and tell them I was threatening to kill myself. This, however, turned out to be beneficial to me. The cops felt sorry for me and didn't arrest me for the beer in my purse. I told them I refused to stay with her, and just when the cops were escorting me out she said "Do you need any money sweetheart?" I did. But I was too prideful to take it.

When I went back to pick up my clothes she had no recollection of my leaving them with her. She vaguely remembered giving her crackhead (again, literal) sister some of my clothes, but wasn't sure. I only had the clothes I was wearing and a few items at my grandmother's. All of my pretty clothes that I had worked and saved to buy were gone. My graduation and prom dresses, my bras and underwear, my professional clothes, my I Heart Boxed Wine shirt, everything. I didn't have money to buy more. I think this time period in my life was my bottom.