Who am I? My full name is Rodanthe, Rose for short, or Ro for shorter. I grew up poor in an alcoholic and abusive family, along with my little sister, Natasha. Our parents kept fighting and my dad used to beat my mom, my mom was very aggressive towards objects and our house, and every time the situation got out of hand, me and my sister "ran away" to my grandma and aunt's house (my mom's mom and sister; my dad's parents were dead, and his siblings never helped - my mom's dad, our grandpa, was the most loving person in the world, but he was never near/there). Things between my grandma and aunt and us were great and we felt safe there, my aunt was to me the love I never received from my parents, and my grandma was the same. Things kept going like that: big fights, running away to safety, destroyed objects, abused mother, once there was a house fire because my mom set the basement on fire out of anger and destructiveness, we moved out a lot, so home never really felt like home, and a lot of cockroaches... And, there was another case. Sometimes (half the time) our aunt got really mad at us, gave us the silent treatment and locked herself in her room for months at a time. But when she was not mad, she was the most loving person in the world. So, things kept going like that ever since we were little to 15 for me and 14 for my sister. Are we okay up to here? Need a little break? A glass of water? Have what you will if it gets too much to read.
Everything changed one morning of February, on the 26th to be exact, at 9 am, in 2011, when my aunt suddenly dropped dead in my grandpa's bathroom where he found her. It was an aneurysm which left us all dumbfounded and a mess. The funeral was devastating; the sight of the coffin and the lifeless body broke us all down, but especially my grandpa and grandma. So, what could we do after that? Me and my sister decided to stay at my grandma's for a little while, to keep her company. Her and my grandpa now met on the daily, for many hours, went to the cemetery for my aunt, and came back when it got dark. Now, grandpa was near/here for us, but being a real loner, he still lived at his own home, we just got to see him a lot more and for much longer. The days passed, they turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months. 9 months had passed without having seen our parents, but we did hear from them. A lot. My mom threatened us almost every week to return home or else she would kill grandma, she would kill us, she would kill herself, and a bunch of other not so empty threats. She would come once in a while to break things, throw them at us, carrying kitchen knives and more threats. One day, we decided we should go visit our parents, but our intentions were not to stay. We never intended to live with them anymore.
On the next day, we really went home. "Home". Still to this day, I have no place in the world to call "home". Long story short, they told us they had stopped drinking and smoking and fighting completely in those 9 months we'd been gone, that this was their punishment. We told them that we weren't going to come back, and of course it hurt us, but it had to be this way for our safety and well-being. My mom explicitly implied she was gonna kill herself. "Please know that I don't want to be buried, I want to be cremated and tossed to the sea", she said. "I will do it this time". Soon we told them we had to go, that we had to study, had school tomorrow, had to go to the gym and goodnight. My father barely spoke a word all day/night, and something was telling me he'd been like that with everyone since we'd gone away. My mom lowered her head, looked very sad, and almost whispered "goodnight" as I closed the front door.
That was the last time I experienced her presence, that I saw, heard, and felt her pain while she was alive. Two days later, a day after my sister's birthday, on the 23rd of November of 2011, at around 6 pm, she was found dead. How it happened? I, personally, never asked, and still to this day don't know. I've only heard what I want to consider theories. That my dad strangled her, put her in the freezer, and called one of his brothers that was in the fire department for help. That they paid the doctor to call her death a suicide. I remember hugging my dad while crying, and while he was crying (this was not the first time I'd seen him cry, but it was the first time I'd seen him like this. So hurt, so vulnerable, crying that hard). This was definitely the first time I'd ever hugged him. And the last one.
6 months passed and there was a phonecall from the same brother of my dad's that worked in the fire department. My grandma picked up, I remember hearing her say "for 6 months now, you've never once called to see what these children are doing. How they've been. But you're sad now?" What? What now? What had happened? Believe it or not, I already knew what had happened. I was sure of it. My dad was dead. I leave it up to you to guess if I was wrong or not.
If the pain wasn't enough until then, by then and onwards it became unbearable. May 9, 2012, after-midnight hours. Gunshot in the head, apparently. I guess. Never asked, was told one time but completely blocked it out, never really learned.
I don't want to explain how I felt after that, but just know that from 2012 until this day, April 29th, 2018, I've been unable to leave my grandma's house, in a deep schizoaffective depression (which is schizophrenia combined with clinical depression), on a lot of medication, and with my orphan-retirement money (that was around 300€ a month either way) ending. My sister managed to go study, although she is, too, struggling with mental illness (not as severe, but it's still there), my grandpa has died of heart attack (November 10, 2015, a day after my 20th birthday, around 6:30 pm), so our source of income currently is my grandma's retirement money, and me and my sister's orphan-retirement money. Summed up not surpassing 800€ a month, for 3 people (and a cat). And, well, did I forget to mention we live in Greece, out of all places? Where, even if I could get out of the house, I would hardly be able to get a job? If I did, now you know: I'm in Greece.
That was it for the backstory!
If you help us it means:
- it will mean the world to us.
- it will help me, my sister, and my grandma (and our cat) to survive (and keep/start studying) for at least one whole year
- better medication for all of us (including the cat - she has a vet doctor)
- potential for me to get better, leave the house, and study and/or search for a job, so I can support us.
Thank you very much for reading and considering to donate. Really thank you.