When I read that the executor would not go to court for a court order to evict me as long as brother and I were negotiating, I knew that he would stop negotiating. I plucked up the courage to make him a fair offer (cost of half the house minus a few debts, all agreed by executor) and yesterday, the email came. This is more or less what it said. You can afford to buy me out (but I have no idea how much he wants, there’s the little matter of the debts I am owed and if I pay?, there will be virtually nothing left for care and food as I’m on a state pension and PIP), and oh yes, would I like to place the house on the open market asap. If not, the executor will begin court proceedings for possession. (Merry Christmas to you too).
2021 has been a year where almost everything that could go wrong, did. Emails didn’t arrive, people didn’t return calls at the appointed time, doctors didn’t arrange tests asked for by consultants, solicitor with great ideas suddenly announced after a month that she was going on maternity leave, others were so busy, they couldn’t rewrite my will, and carers left the agency for better paid jobs so there was no capacity for the likes of me. Still, although the hours diminished, the fees stayed the same. I objected so having to find replacements who will shop for the basics. Being disabled during a pandemic is not easy.
Brother is unsympathetic to the idea that equity release is b…y expensive. And totally uninterested in the fact that I’m disabled, or someone who has always relied on benefits which are far from generous. My house is adapted and I can breathe.
There’s still some clearing to do, and chasing solicitors for wills, so haven’t time for additional stressors. It’s been a traumatic year. The only thing that can happen which is worse is that the court does grant an eviction order and I become homeless. (I couldn’t cope in a hotel or anywhere else where they use fragranced products). And this is winter. So I’m praying that 2022 will be better. That people recognise my honesty, decency and disability. That they let me live.
Epilogue February 2022
I accepted the proposal regarding costs at the end of January. However, I can’t get the money asked for through equity release as long as I don’t own the house. So I need to find a loan to pay the executor so I can become sole owner and only then can I apply for equity release. I was told repeatedly that it could be done without a loan but today, I was told that it can’t. It’s hard to get equity release for the amount asked and an expert found only one potential company who would offer me the funds. Just one. not surprisingly, no one was willing to give me a loan. It was something I tried a few months ago. If I pay from my savings, I lose my cash ISA and its tax wrapper, thus adding to my costs. That means I won’t have enough left to pay for my own care for more than a few months. Perhaps a year.
I’m still learning more about human behaviour. For example, everything I’ve been through is consistent with a number of interesting strategies employed by certain people engaged in hurting others. Thus I was the victim of a ‘smear campaign’ (leading to a safeguarding enquiry based entirely on lies), using ‘flying monkeys’, ie carers Mel and Rebekkah, social workers, and the odd nurse, all to give the impression to the GP that he is right (‘look, others saw/heard the same thing’) and I’m not be believed. The phenomenon is called ‘triangulation’. It’s not something I’ve read about in the BMJ.
Although I didn’t know the terms like smear campaign and flying monkeys at the time, I wrote him an email a few years ago recognising how he badly he was treated as a child and that I understood his negative feelings towards me. If he can’t punish the abuser, there were two vulnerable, weedy females who would do. He clearly rejected my empathy and continued to engage what would eventually lead to a dreadful end for his mum (about whom he said, he acted solely ‘out of concern’) and the splitting up of the rest of his family in the UK. He had his ‘supply’ ie his wife and daughters. And he had his fun. Or did he? The abused becomes an abuser. I always thought him so intelligent, why did he fall into that trap?
I understand the smear campaign. He must have been very hurt to lash out to the degree he did. But the solution to abuse/punish/torment the innocent, and mum and I were victims of abuse too, is not to engage in the same behaviour. I got therapy. He obviously didn’t. However, there is a positive: in this area, social services and GPs will never again trigger safeguarding investigations on the basis of the words/hearsay of a sibling against another sibling. Result.
Anyone who would like to loan me a lot of money? At almost no interest?
A wobbly tulip from Amsterdam. 