Last evening was rather bleak for me as the weight of the debt my wife has us in bore down on me.
I was watching T.V. by myself ─ she stays somewhere in Vancouver on the weekends, and only comes home to sleep during the week because we live much close to the Thai restaurant she has to drive to for work.
I nearly had my VISA credit card all paid up, but I had loaned it to my wife to use on Wednesday and Thursday because she was desperate to start trying to pay back friends to whom she is in debt due to gambling ─ she gave me the estimate that she owed as much as $6,000.
She had wanted to borrow $5,000 in credit from me via my VISA card, but I decided that it was better if I made a $5,000 redemption from my RRSP ─ I made application for that last Tuesday, probably bringing my RRSP account down to close to $30,000.
I knew that $500 would be taken from the redemption as income tax, so $4,500 would be the actual result of the redemption.
And that money was deposited into our chequing account this past Friday.
Meantime, my wife had come close to racking up $2,000 on my VISA card.
Tomorrow is the day when our monthly mortgage ought to be debited from our chequing account ─ a hit of just over $1,600. But due to my wife's unrestrained financial foolishness, the account had been reduced to just over $40.
So last evening, I was in a fair depression, feeling quite alone and useless now that I am 70 years old, without any friends near to share my burdens with.
Early that afternoon, I had texted my wife at 1:22 p.m.:
I'm going to put $2,100 towards my VISA card.
She did not respond until 5:51 p.m., and I had not yet initiated that online payment ─ I had withheld for her sake. And as yet, she was unaware that the RRSP money had come.
Please note that several times, in transcribing the texts between my wife and I into this blog post, I needed to disguise identifying names that I did not wish to be public. Those instances will be apparent, but I hope not too confusing:
Please note that several times, in transcribing the texts between my wife and I into this blog post, I needed to disguise identifying names that I did not wish to be public. Those instances will be apparent, but I hope not too confusing:
I do t get my pay yet!! [Her employer and friend] say will get a pay cheque tomorrow
Me:
My RRSP money came yesterday -- $4,500, because $500 was taken off as income tax.
She:
So how much you will let me pay off my friends
Me:
I was hoping you were doing some of that with my VISA card.
Well, if I pay my card $2,100, and then have to pay all of the mortgages on Monday because your sons don't want anything to do with it, there will only be about $800 left.
She:
Is [her eldest son] give you some
Me:
I haven't heard from him about it since you told me that he could not cover the $1,000 we were short by at the time.
Both of her sons live here scot free, but they often will help cover shortfalls on the mortgage. Nevertheless, when the eldest lad learned that she had wasted the mortgage for nonsense and we were then over $1,000 shy of what was needed. he told her that he could not cover that big a difference.
She:
Can you plz don't pay ur visa yet I need that 2100 to pay them that why I ask you to helping me fir 5000 before
Anyway up to you
Me:
[One of the banks we're involved with] keeps phoning us -- [My younger brother] asked me about it yesterday, but I acted like they were probably just trying to get more business.
I don't know if they're calling because of the cash that came out of my credit card, or that Growth Account that we owe nearly $1,000 on, or both.
It's all really embarrassing and stressful.
She:
Yes, call for that one so may be I will deposit this pay cheque in that bank first then withdraw some cash to pay my friends sorry about that
Me:
That might stop them for a month or more.
She:
Ok for now I'm so stress need a break I knew all it's my fault
Me:
Yes, sometimes it makes me feel so sick that I don't want to live anymore.
There is nothing making my life worth living anymore.
Or so I often feel. I'm just a hostage this house and all our hopeless debt.
I'm too old now to ever be free.
She:
Don't feel like that without you me and my sons never have a good life to leave here , it's my fault to make you feel like that I'm so sorry again
Sorry my stupid fault
Me:
Well, it's too late to do much about it now.
She:
You don't have to do anything you done enough, thank you fir everything
Me:
I'll just pay VISA $1,000 this time.
Then if your sons do no help with the $1,600 mortgage and we have to cover the full amount, there will be $1,900 or so left over.
And if we do get some help from them, you will have that little bit more.
She:
K
And there was where we left off.
Until she married me in 2005 over in Thailand, and then came here to Canada in 2006 to join me on our third visa attempt, she had never been outside of her country. She was just a poor Isaan girl with two young sons, and scant prospect of ever having another husband.
Her sons remained with her mother. We had one botched visa attempt to bring them here in 2007, and finally got clearance in 2008. She went and brought them here to be with us.
And now they are all Canadians. The youngest lad ─ who will turn 22 later this year ─ can no longer read his own mother tongue; and his vocabulary has become so reduced that his mother and brother have to use lots of English words when they all speak together in Thai.
Had the boys and their mother never come here because I married their mother, it is quite possible that neither of them would have ever graduated high school (as they both did over here). They might have become relatively useless young men with questionable futures, and might well have both been inducted into the military.
I know all this. I was just unaware that my wife ever realized or thought about these things. I sacrificed so much for them all, so it felt nice to finally understand that she did sometimes realize what I did and made possible for them.
For several years now, I have been thinking that I do not want to reach my 71st birthday if this is all the life I am to have ─ so much debt brought on by my wife that I can never be clear of it.
But I am worth far more to my wife alive than dead. Alive, my monthly pensions clear well over $2,300. However, only one of those three pensions would pass over to her as my widow...and she would only be entitled to 50% of whatever it is at the time of my death.
Yes, she would have the pension for the remainder of her life. Unfortunately, though, its present net value to her as my widow would not even be $650 a month.
Consequently, I am loath to die and force her to have to be a working woman into her old age ─ she is just over 23 years younger than I am. It makes me feel abominable not to be a strong provider.
I still love my wife, even if I cannot physically manage the job.
And so it was that even though I got to bed last evening ahead of 10:00 p.m. with the intention of getting in a good, long walk in the early a.m. hours, I was still wide awake by 11:00 p.m.
When I finally did get to sleep, I was awake again shortly after 2:00 a.m., and unable to sleep. So around 2:30 a.m., I rose to put in some work on the post I have in development at one of my six hosted websites.
I had no hope of getting out on a walk without a caffeine boost, so I fixed up a big mug of hot instant coffee and slowly consumed that.
As it happened, I got hung up for awhile on complications with that website post.
I had thought to get on my walk by around 5:00 a.m., but that plan fell by the wayside. As it turned out, it was 5:54 a.m. once I was outside the locked front door and on my way.
During the initial stages of the walk, several times I considered truncating the original planned route. Heck, I almost called the walk off and remained home ─ it was much later than I wanted to be getting away. The only saving grace was that it was Sunday, and the morning ought to be quiet.
Ultimately, I put in a minimum of what I estimate to be 8¾ miles. It was satisfying, but my cartilage-damaged knees are still burning from the experience. Nevertheless, I did discover that if ever I have the means ─ i.e., the privacy and proper footwear ─ I really do think that I could develop some of my former running ability.
I have not done any running since having the quadriceps tendon of my left leg tear free of my knee cap on November 1, 2010; and the surgery to reattach the tendon on November 5. I am too ashamed to be seen trying to learn how to run again, so I have lost the ability.
I want to be done with this post, so I am going to finish up with the following collage Google Photos created today using three photos that were apparently taken by me back on the same day (October 20) back in 2012:
I remember that my wife ─ pictured there posing on our backyard sundeck ─ had taken her sons and I out to a noodle restaurant called Shang Noodle House (Google map) in New Westminster. As I said earlier, the younger lad will soon turn 22 years of age, while his older brother is now 25.
These are the three original photos:
I want to blog further, but I have already spent a lot of time creating a post in my private blog. That blog is over 11 years old, and I began it within a week of the arrival to Canada of my wife's two sons.
I was obliged to render it private early this year when my youngest stepson learned of it, and was aghast at how much had been revealed about him.
I hope one day to make it public again, but it will not be until this household has broken up ─ if I live to see that day.
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