Whether or not we find another place to land (thank you, Aniki), I just want to express my gratitude for this site and everyone here. 
I had experienced over a decade of peace (with a few pokes--one major, a couple minor--since that time in steplife) and honestly felt like it was all smooth sailing until DH had a heart attack in our bedroom at 1:00 am late in 2023 followed by triple bypass surgery. This happened during the same time I was putting together a huge public event at work and was not getting the assistance promised me by my sloth-like useless boss. I was doing it alone. During all of this, her boss, an entitled, married-money c-word board member, referred to me (and a few other overworked and unsupported colleagues), behind our backs, of course, as "whiners."

As DH was in a local hospital waiting for a (surgery) bed to open up in a hospital in a major urban area, his son and daughter wanted to come up. Of course. They were worried their father could die. DH told them about my situation at work and the need for someone to be with him after he was released from the hospital, and both skids offered to "help." SS's words--I will never forget--were, "Hey, I'm unemployed, anyway!" *flashing red lights* In desperation, but also in "understanding" that the kids wanted to see their father, we made arrangements. BUT something inside of me was awake: I recall telling SS that there were Airbnbs near the hospital, which was just over an hour away from our house (an idea for them during DH's hospital stay, not afterwards). I was met with silence. 

I don't remember if it was two weeks or three weeks, but it was pure hell. I am not a particularly religious person, but I would say, "God, please don't let me collapse." I could practically feel the gray hairs emerging. I felt like I was rapidly aging. I couldn't sleep. . . thus "MorningMia." There was a time during all of this when SS said to me, "Mom sent US a gift card to [some restaurant] so we can go out and get dinner." This was when DH was hospitalized. I cannot tell you how my whole being sighed at that moment, and I thought, wow, she has some empathy. I couldn't wait for that damn dinner. I desperately wanted that dinner (vs. me picking up carry-out when I left work, cooking, etc.) It never came. 

I'd come home from work to literally find my adult skids napping in the living room, the house a mess, no food prepped for DH. If they weren't napping, they were waiting for me to come home and make dinner. SS would take over our dining room table with his laptops (plural), put his ear buds in, and not listen to DH calling out for water. They only cleaned up after themselves when asked. SS was mean to our dog, which I had to reel in. Words I will never forget: DH coming into the house from the hospital while I'm with our dog (very well-behaved, but leashed because I knew he'd be thrilled to see his dad again) and SS later saying, "If he jumped on Dad, I was ready to kill that mother-f'er." I was sick--my stomach in knots--over how our already stressed out dog might have been treated when DH was in his recovery daze and I wasn't in the house (I did manage to take him to work with me a few days). DH handed SS his car keys, so SS went out a lot and got speeding tickets (via cameras). Honestly, too many issues to write here. I didn't want to bother DH with complaints about his kids, but it got to a point that I had to ask him to ask them or tell them to do a, b, or c. The behavior was impossible to deal with. 

And then I lost it. It became ok with me to be the person they thought I was, anyway. Nothing to lose. It was cold outside and I came home to the usual BS and found that SS had turned the heat way up and opened all the windows in the guest room. I then walked into the bathroom and tripped over DH's walker (which he wasn't using) that SS had for some reason placed right in front of the toilet. I just wanted to pee with no issues! That's when I hit the wall with my hands and dropped a few F bombs. Skids scampered out of the house "for a walk."

It's when I came here. Big sigh. 

Skids left. I told DH I meant it this time. No more. He was in agreement. Sad, but agreed. Soon after, I quit my job. . . hadn't lined up a new one and later blocked the skids from being able to see me, hear me, hear about me, or feel my presence anywhere on the internet or out in the ether. 

I never dreamed that a situation I thought was "handled" came back and bit me (well, both of us) in the butt(s). It taught me that people with crap characters do not change, even under the most serious of circumstances.  

Over the past year-and-a-half I have grown healthier than ever. I feel peace. I have a job I love. I'm doing things I feel I'm meant to do. I laugh to think of what the skids say/think about me <insert middle finger emoji here>. And I have you all, this site, to thank for allowing me to vent (oh, I mean "whine" lol), mostly PROCESS, read and learn, and more. It has meant a lot and helped enormously. THANK YOU.