Being strong...

Thanks, everyone for your spirited thoughts, but please be assured I have an attorney whom I pay very well to offer legal advice in all matters. I just wanted the unofficial opinion as to how perhaps other mothers would feel in such a circumstance, having to weigh financial needs over your wishes for your children. At the end of the day, Derek is their father, and like it or not, even convicted murderers in prison are given the right to visitation with their children; that's just the reality of the matter. Since Derek seeing the children is a real possibility, I'm going to try to have it on my terms, and I think that the legal cards are stacked in my favor. Derek deals from his raw emotions, and even now doesn't acknowlege that he has an anger problem. The very fact that, even now, he envisions the children flying on a plane out of the United States to see him in a foreign country shows that he's not recognizing his own public record in domestic violence. He even wrote in a note to me the other day that he's not mad at me, in fact, he "forgives" me, and that as long as we both drop all "legal things" that we can come to an agreement. That clearly demonstrates how illogical he is. When I left Derek, I wasn't responding to the emotional side of the issue, although that was certainly there. I left him because I had to acknowledge, through crystal clear eyes, that the way he treated me and my son was NOT normal, was NOT okay, and had to be stopped or we would be further and probably irrevocably hurt. Luckily the facts are on my side. So I'm still looking for work, writing my book about this lovely experience, and addressing what comes with strength and assurance. Even if I have to RE-assure myself every day that I can do it! Moms can do anything for their babies, I've learned that. But it's still so helpful to know that you're out there, listening and supporting. Thank you so, so much! Until next time, dear friends...

What do you think...

I may not be able to see you, but where ever you are, you've been a true friend at times when I've really needed one. Now I'd like to take an unofficial poll. Derek has sent a "proposal" to his attorney. Not in writing, but he's suggesting that he will drop that ridiculous child abduction law suit if I will agree to some form of visitation with the children -- in another country, the country where he's living now. Now don't worry, there is no way on God's green earth that I would let my children out of this country to be with that man, believe me! And actually, I would prefer that he have no influence at all on them. However, my attorney is telling me that because he is the children's father, at the end of this whole thing the judge will almost certainly give him some form of visitation, at the very least, supervised and in our jurisdiction. So he's suggesting that I put together a proposal of my own of conditions I would agree to, in the hopes of avoiding a big, expensive court battle. Well I can tell you now, I don't like it. Although I recognize what he's saying and that in the end Derek may get supervised visits, I can't escape the feeling that this giving him that now is not being true to the very real feelings I have regarding his anger issues and abuse. I think that to agree to him being in our lives at all means that I'm negating all that I've said. I stand by my statement that he's a dangerous and unstable person, who's attempted suicide twice, once with the knife. I also know that he is a con artist, and that he doesn't think for a second that he has an anger problem, and therefore he has no intention of improving himself. He's told me this many times. So to send my children into the presence of this man feels like sending them into the wolf's lair, court supervised or not. On the other hand, if it's absolutely gong to happen regardless, is it perhaps better to have it happen on my terms, with me sending forth a proposal that I can somehow live with, rather than waiting for a judge to do it long after both sides are financially ruined? Additionally, if we come to an agreement now, I can try to negotiate some support from him, after all, if he can see his children, he also must support them. Don't forget he's living in another country so I would never be able to collect court-ordered child support unless he voluntarily gives it, and he would only be motivated to do that if he can see his children. But even this bothers me. I feel like I'm bartering my children somehow. I don't like it. I'm conflicted. What to do... Until next time, dear friends...

Crazy or just clueless??

If you've been following my blog for the last several months, you already know that my two beautiful children and I were living in an abusive situation (see my older posts), in which my husband screamed at us, kicked my son, jerked him around, called me an idiot, moron, and other choice names on a daily basis, and he also, over time, usurped all of my freedom and independence, until I had no bank card, no money, no friends, no freedom to buy anything without his approval, including my own clothes, and I had to be home by 5:30 or I was in big trouble. That's just a quick recap, and is not at all comprehensive, but it gives us all a moment to remember just how charming this guy was (and is). So here we are, a few months after my big escape, breathing a certain sigh of relief that although the battles aren't yet completed, the damaging cancer (him) has been excised from our daily lives, and I'm doing all that I can legally to ensure that it remains that way. To have come this far, surely is worth a toast. HOWEVER -- as I proceed through my own involuntary social experiment in leaving this jerk, I have learned one thing is for sure: these abusive types will try ANYTHING and EVERYTHING to suck you back into their lair and under their control where they think you belong. My own jerk has succeeded in keeping me continually surprised at the schizophrenic and contradictory combination of carrots and sticks that he regularly dangles to try and get a response from me. Mind you, I have had almost no contact with him (ah, so refreshing), as there is an Order of Protection for us in the court, and also because getting into a dialogue would serve no productive purpose whatsoever. Even so, he fairly regularly sends me messages and texts and even gifts in the mail. As to his arsenal of strategies, he seems to be trying out different ones to see what will stick and get a response from me. Here is a sample of some of them: He's sent me flowers three times, each with a note professing his love for me. After 4 1/2 years of not caring about my personal goals, he sent an email quite suddenly asking for information on the Ph.D. program I'm interested in. Then he tried a different approach, and sent a string of emails stating that I could not just ignore him and that if I did, I: wouldn't be able to stay in our house, would spend all of my money on lawyers in court, and would receive a slew of lawsuits and even criminal charges (?!). When that didn't get the response he wanted, he went back to the sweet approach. So in the middle of his emails about how much he still loves me and how we can work it out, I received a lovely package at my door, which was a lawsuit accusing me of abducting the children. (This couldn't be further from the truth, because in reality although I did flee a domestic violence situation, he had taken the passports before I could do that, and it was only after he gave them back to me with full knowledge of the flight we were on and that we were returning to our home that the children and I finally left). At any rate, there it was, this horrible lawsuit. I mention this because I want to fully show the context in which this next little item came. This monster, who just filed this horrible thing against me (luckily there is no merit to it), sent me a message last night stating that he only filed it because I filed for the Order of Protection, and that he would drop it if I accepted one condition. Are you ready for the condition? Are you REALLY ready? Here it comes: I have to agree to what he described as, "one final date with me." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you as gobsmacked as I was???? A date? Is he completely insane? And a "final" date, what's that? It was very creepy, in a, pervert/stalker/serial killer kind of way. I suddenly had visions of me, sitting in a chair all tied up and a gag in my mouth on our "date," as he beams and coos about our undying love and how happy we'll be. It's utterly astonishing how clueless some people can be. He really seems to be so twisted that he has no idea how horrible his behavior is. And there's more: the morning after receiving that creepy note, I found an email from his long-lost, grown up son whom I've never met nor even EVER seen a picture of. Suddenly this son, who just by the way had never met his father until he was 13, was verbally attacking me for having the gaul to leave his "dad." This arrogant and totally clueless person tried for two pages to accuse ME of having done a terrible thing, so much so that he and his lovely fiance' (also whom I've never met nor heard of), were considering post-poning their wedding plans because I've so affected their suddenly close-knit family. Again, I was gobsmacked. Speechless. I sat there for quite some time just staring at his letter, wondering how on earth he could presume to know anything about what life with Derek is like. I'll admit that I felt indignant; I wanted to immediately reply with all the reasons that he was presumptuous and wrong, and defend myself for my actions. But I didn't. In spite of my emotions, I knew that, for whatever motivation he had, I didn't need to justify myself to him, nor would it bring anything to rail against his father just to prove a point. So I let it go. (Well sort of, I'm venting about it here). So that was yesterday. Flowers. Lawsuit. Threats. Creepy date invitation. Letter from long-lost son. Oh and let's not forget that cow on tv who wrote all of those books and made me feel inadequate! Humph. Maybe I should lay off the caffeine for awhile. Until next time, dear, dear friends...

On the flipside...

This morning as I put on my makeup, there was a woman on Fox News spouting off about the mosque at ground zero. She looked scholarly and professional and exuded confidence as she sat there, waxing lyrical about this and that, and everyone was mesmerized by her jewel-like tones. And that was fine. Then suddenly they flashed a shot of her latest book -- some fat, six hundred-page soliloquy on the state of modern America. And that did it. I just snapped. In the 3.5 seconds I saw that book flash across the screen, a heat swelled up inside of me like a snarling bull. That Bitch didn't look a day over 28 -- if that -- and there she was on tv, sharing her opinions as if they somehow mattered more than mine, AND she had somehow managed to have a book published, too? All probably before her 30th birthday?! And it was one of many, I would soon learn. Great. Good for her, miss young and successful -- hooray! It was too much. It was just too, damn much. Why? How? WHY??!! I was incredulous. For what seemed like forever I just stood there, motionless in front of the bathroom mirror, my mascara wand drying up in my hand. For a long time I didn't know what this empty feeling was that this complete stranger had obviously touched. What was this really about? And then it finally hit me. Failure. This is what it felt like. And it SUCKED. Why was she up there on the tv screen, the literal picture of success, and I was down here, still in my bathroom at 8:30 on a Wednesday morning still trying to get the cowlick out of my bangs? What other amazing things would she do today as I barely managed to get my kids to school and apply for more menial jobs online that someone obviously posted and yet that no one seemed to ever fill? I was supposed to be her. And I think I was for awhile, a long time ago. What the hell happened? With a sigh I finished my eyelashes while making a mental note that I needed to buy more lotion and toothpaste, and briefly contemplated whether I wanted the Crest Whitening again or the Colgate that had those fancy "whitening strips" in it. Ahhhh. Time to begin another day. and even in my funk, I knew that I was the only one who could make it count for anything. But would I... I should. I could. I even knew that. So what was my problem? I wanted to slap myself in the face and say, "Whatever it is, get over it! Stop being such a baby! You've done fine in life, but right now you've got to fight to get to the next thing, just do it, already!" But I didn't. Where was the fire that got me over that huge mountain just a few short months ago? We are all creatures of light. But light moves. I can feel mine, burning hot or fading, depending upon my strength at any given moment. Sometimes it takes a great deal of energy to keep its intensity, but when you can, great victories are won. Today I seem to be a little on the wimpy side. And so I said to myself, "I know that light is all around you. And that no one else can step into it for you. Step into the light where you belong. What are you waiting for?" Christ is often depicted as being surrounded by light; bathed in it. so radiant was his energy that it literally overflowed out of him; his God essence seeping from every pore and bursting through in shards of blazing light. Many ethereal creatures are shown with this light. And I believe in each of us, there is such a thing. Light is inside of you; you are light. Perhaps this morning I lost my light, a little bit. Tomorrow will be better. In the meantime, keep pushing forward until next time, dear friend...

Dinner for Schmucks

What a fantastic weekend I had with my kids. We went to the beach where I attended an old high school get together. All of my old chums from school brought their kids, and it was just a fun atmosphere where everyone pitched in and watched the little ones, helped with sunblock and snacks, and just laid back. It was great to see familiar faces and catch up, and also interesting to hear who was married, who was not, and why. My kids didn't want to leave and were utterly exhausted when we did, falling asleep with mouths hanging open in mid-sentence before I could fasten their car seats. Of course in the midst of all the fun, I had some fun of my own trying to imagine what this day would have been like if Derek had come with us. It's a fun game because I know that first of all, this day would never have happened. For him to lower himself to spend time with my old friends and (gasp!) some old boyfriends, too -- would have brought pain and suffering down upon everyone within a three-mile radius, and the number of times I would have heard about his sacrifice afterwards wouldn't make it onto just one calendar. But okay, I realize that's a typical marital problem: lots of spouses dread going to old-friend and relative functions. Fair enough. With Derek however the misery and yes, anger over an experience like that would not have been mainly about my friends, it's just the way he chooses to process most happy get-togethers, regardless of the crowd's make-up. Christmas dinner, New Years dancing, Easter brunch, birthdays and even our anniversary are all opportunities for him to criticize, complain, and, oh yes, blame me. Yaaay. Nowhere is there a bigger wet blanket than Derek. Even when we used to go to dinner at a fabulous steak house with great atmosphere and a flurry of eager staff just waiting on our every need, if we saw a party nearby where people were laughing and smiling amongst each other, Derek would scowl and glare disapprovingly at them: "My god," he would hiss, "What horrible people. Unbelievable how ridiculous some people can act. They have no manners at all, just a bunch of pigs..." and on and on he would go with his critical commentary, never forgetting to add that these laughing people were ruining his good time, as if we were ever having one in the first place, ugh! Exasperating. "But they're just happy," I would say rather half-heartedly, my head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. That happened so many times and each time I sat at a table with Derek and experienced this episode I thought to myself, "Yeah, they're laughing alright, and they're loud, and they're smiling at each other, and I want to be at their table, my table sucks!" Well now I'm at their table. Metophorically speaking. This weekend was my time to be "at their table." And guess what -- it's a lot more fun over there! After the beach festivities a friend of mine sent me a note and said, "You should email so-and-so, she couldn't make it this weekend but she was married to a schmuck too, so many of our friends were it seems; you guys all belong to the strangest club!" I thought that was so funny; there's this movie out right now -- "Dinner for Schmucks." It's about something having nothing to do with abusers, but the title is still spot on for many, MANY of the dinners I've had. I guess the only question is who was the schmuck at my dinners: my husband, or me for being there in the first place. It doesn't even matter. I've canceled that reservation. Bye bye, Schmuckie. Until next time, dear friends...