I've lost it...

As in, I seriously lost it!!!! My hands are still shaking. And while it's usually good advice to never blog while angry, I'm going to anyway. At least I'm going to type it and then see how I feel.

I've lost my mind. Catapulted over the threshold of sanity, and right into Looneyville. Have you ever screamed so hard, so loudly, that you lost your voice? Yeah, I'm there. I've been pushed to the point of being completely hysterical. It's not a pretty place to visit.

What happened:
Many houses in this area have had problems with water seepage. Water comes up from the ground, and gets into the walls, causing damage and mold. Not a good thing. This happens when contractors cut corners and/or do a piss poor job. The house next door has been dealing with this problem since August, and it's STILL not resolved, although they've made many huge messes that still haven't been cleared up yet.

I 100% get that as Americans living in a foreign country, we are here as their guests. Got it. But they are getting TONS of our money to do various jobs/services and I'm so sick and tired of being told "tough shit" when things aren't done properly, according to regulation, on time, or with respect. If you're hired to do a job and getting paid, then DO the job! Since when is it acceptable to just slap some paint on a wall that you've torn up, and haven't even fixed the root problem?? Since when are we "just Americans"?? I felt really bad for our neighbor, while being very grateful our building wasn't suffering from the same problem.

So because housing either owns these buildings, or is paying rent on them, naturally they want to maintain them. With so many houses here having the same problem, naturally they want to check on all the rest that haven't thus far reported issues. (Some people are morons and don't know enough to pick up the phone when there's an issue and let things get totally out of hand. I've seen it myself.) When Thomas told me that someone would be coming by today (between 8am and noon - God I hate that!), to check out our basement, I didn't think anything of it. I do laundry pretty much every day and check the walls while down there and KNOW there isn't an issue.

So I was expecting one guy. To LOOK at our walls.

I was NOT expecting three guys, with filthy boots, and tons of dirty equipment to descend upon me! WTH?? They start dragging in load and load of crap and I'm like, whoa, Nellie!!! The one man that "spoke English" (not really at ALL!), did not understand me. Did not understand my questions. Did not understand my concerns. Or he didn't care. Which really amounts to the same thing.

There was no way I was going to have them dig up my basement, which is apparently what they came here to do!! I don't have a problem!! HELLO???? But if you dig up my floors, we're going to have tons to them! Of course you are going to allow water to come in if you dig it all up! And dirt. And insects. And even rodents. Or snakes. OK, so yeah, my mind pretty much lost it at that point. Not to mention I KNOW that these people are the same ones who have been "working on" the neighbor's house, and her problem isn't fixed and her brand new house is a hot mess. I wasn't going down that road!!!!!

So I told them they had made a mistake, they were only there to look and to NOT DIG UP MY FLOORS!! I told them to stop and that I was calling my husband. They blew me off. Totally ignored me and blew me off.

Anyone who has known me for more than 30 seconds knows I'm no pushover. I'm a very strong, smart, independent woman. I can handle myself. I don't need a man to do things for me. I've got it!! But being overseas, I've really seen how most European men do NOT respect women!!! And excuse me, but if you are in MY HOME, disrespecting me is not going to cut it. I will not tolerate that from anyone, ever, period! I know damn well they understood me when I said to STOP and WAIT!

I'm pretty upset, but I call Thomas anyway. I know he's in class and I'm not even sure he'll pick up his phone. He does. (Thank God!) I tell him what's going on, he assures me that housing said they were ONLY coming to look and that he would call housing immediately to put a stop to it. And then things got messy. Literally.

While waiting for Thomas to deal with this, all hell breaks loose. Crazy loud drilling and banging coming from the basement!!! What.The.Hell. I told them not to and they freaking did it anyway!!!!! I run downstairs and try to get their attention, because they couldn't hear me screaming at them it was so loud. I told them to stop!!! Mumbling in German amongst themselves. They gave me a look, and went right back at it!!!!! Aside from getting physical with them, I couldn't do anything. They were here, in my home, doing whatever they pleased, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

I was powerless in my own home.

My home. My safe place. The place that's mine. The place I can control. And be safe in. And it was no longer mine, or safe.

If you think I'm being overly-dramatic, I'm not. If anything I'm not being dramatic enough. Having survived the most horrific, abusive and neglectful childhood somewhat intact, I've learned that the only person I could ever truly rely on or trust was myself. And it made me strong. It also made me a control freak. If I can control the things around me, I will be safe.

Control = Safety. No Control (chaos) = Not Safe.

It really does boil down to that. I need to know what's going on. I need to know what's coming. I need to know what to expect so I can prepare. I don't like surprises. I don't handle sudden change well. I can handle anything, but let me know first. Don't tell me you are coming to my home, MY SAFE PLACE, to look at my walls, and then start destroying my floors. Because I will lose my ever-lovin' mind. It will psychologically affect me if I feel threatened, unsafe, or powerless. Which in my mind is the same thing. I can't control much, but my home should be mine. I should never feel powerless in my own home.

Again I call Thomas, nearly hyperventilating, and I can't reach him. I call and call and call. It takes a while to reach him (he was on the phone already still with housing). Basically housing is like, well, what's done is done, let them do their thing. In other words, they didn't give a shit. They couldn't be bothered. It's not my job. Blah, blah, blah. So poor Thomas is at school, with housing on one hand not caring, and me on the other, one hot mess.

Men are fixers. Men are problem solvers. If you go to a man with a problem, they will try to fix it. They aren't just passive listeners like your girlfriends are. Girlfriends know when you just need to blow off steam. Men will always try to fix it. They are genetically programmed that way. So Thomas knows I'm upset, knows there's a problem, and there is nothing he can do about it. Even if he could just immediately come home, which he can't, there's nothing he can do because the damage has already been done.

I was powerless in my own home.

I lost my mind. I marched downstairs, losing any shred of composure I had on each successive step. I flashed the light switch on and off a couple of times to get their attention, and get them to STOP using the loud-as-fuck power tools they were using to destroy my floors. I took a huge intake of air, and off I went.

I couldn't even tell you what all I said. Really. I just lost it. I yelled, I screamed, I swore - just total hysteria. There wasn't really a need for translation. I was one seriously pissed off, psycho bitch!!! Three grown men, eyes bugged out, mouths hanging open. I screamed till the screaming turned to angry and frustrated tears and I marched back upstairs. I might have been powerless, but I wasn't going down without saying my peace!!!!!

One of them thought it would be a really great time to make some phone calls. Angry German voices. (fuck 'em). They packed up their crap and left. Without one word to me. Which is fine, because had they tried to speak to me I'm pretty sure they'd be in for Round Two. I guess they reached that conclusion as well.

So now I have three holes in the three rooms of my basement. For nothing. NOW I have a problem! I didn't have one before, but now I do. Thank-you-so-very-much-you-fucktards!!!!!!!

I'm angry. I feel completely upset and violated. No, I don't own this house, but I do live here and pay for that right.

I think I've had enough of living overseas. And I never thought I'd feel that way.

I think I've had enough of living in government housing.

I think I want to own my own damn house, where I can do whatever I damn well please, and I can have control over who enters and what happens.

I think I need a drink.