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...

Dear friends you're so right...

You pals of mine "out there" are right on the money when you say that Derek will resort to any tactic to get to me, or get me back, I guess is what it is, even though to me the idea of going back to a life with him is more horrifying than having a bikini wax, a mammogram and a pap smear all at the same time (is that too much information?) Ugh..........but it's true, as INSANE as this sounds -- because it is -- I have to tell you that while this lovely man was filing claims against me alleging child abduction and abuse and many other baseless lies that he can never substantiate, he actually had the big brass ones to send me roses -- twice -- the first one with a card that simply had a date on it: 7-10-05. For five days I racked my brain as to what that date could mean, and then I remembered, of course, we met in a foreign place, we had a holiday, and that was the day of our first kiss. Awwwww.....I'll bet you're just tearing up right now. The second dozen came a week later and had a card that said, "I will always love you." That was last week. This week, I've received two emails. In the first one, he tried a scare tactic: "Listen, Stacey, you can't just ignore me...we can still work this out but now it will be with some conditions...this can get very expensive and I will spend my last dime but I don't know if that's an option for you...in spite of what you think I still love you and always will...blah blah..." You can be assured that I did not respond. In the second email, he didn't write anything, but instead creatively cut and pasted a several years old email that I had written to him about how much I loved him and what a great couple we were, as if to remind me of my own words. Thanks so much. Yes, I said those things -- YEARS AGO -- and guess what? None of it happened! You didn't turn out to be a great team member, you didn't turn out to be my best friend whom I can turn to in good and bad times, you didn't even turn out to be an okay friend who I can just sit in the living room with and watch tv. You turned out to be a controlling, mean, nasty, abusive jerk. So null and void that note, Derek. That's what I could say, want to say, but don't worry, to that, too, I did not respond. Nor will I. It just does my brain in sometimes however that he could be so crazy, I guess is the operative word, to follow through with very serious legal allegations that demand full custody of the children and their immediate return to him, and yet while that's going on, unspoken, he sends flowers and tells me how much he loves me. Is there even a drug out there to combat something like that? He's nuts. Simply put. I hope I never see him again, although that is at this point a just a hope. I saw a picture of him flash across my computer screen yesterday and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I instantly felt a flush of panic to see him looking right at me, even through a photo, as if he can somehow see me and will come to life at any second. Just from one picture, everything in me said, "Panic, he's here!" I can't look at anything he owns or has touched a lot in this house, it sends shivers down my spine. And now he's playing this...GAME. It's creepy, and horrifying, and at the same time just plain stupid and annoying. If that makes any sense. I think all of these abusers are just alike, working from the same script. They all play these games and resort to desperate tactics, and yet none of them come with warning labels: "Please be advised that prolonged exposure to this person can cause damage to your heart, upset brain function, drain your wallet, and crush your self-esteem. Do not attempt to operate machinery, set personal goals or offer your opinion when operating around this individual. Do not leave unattended. Do not use near open flame, as this individual may self-combust. This individual is "as is," and is not transferable or returnable. Do not attempt to leave this individual, or severe financial, physical and mental damage may occur, maybe even death. Enjoy your new relationship." No, they just don't make them with warning labels. If only. But they do come with warning signs for those who care to take them seriously. I sure do now. Until next time, dear friends....

A new kick in the stomach...

Wow, how I could ever, still feel even the tiniest bit of sadness for him has really got me mad at myself. When you're up against an abuser, you can't let your guard down for one, single second or they will see that hole in your shield and send the arrows flying. Here I sit, trying like an idiot to file for divorce and serve him with the order of protection, with no success because he avoids the service, so in the meantime he's been at work in another country doing virtually the same thing! This afternoon I was greeted at my door by a process server who handed me papers in which Derek is claiming that I am the abuser, that I left without his knowledge, which isn't true because he gave me back the passports to leave, and he's claiming that he's the fit parent and that I should be immediately ordered to return the children to him and that he should have sole custody! Horror of horrors, NEVER! NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, under any court, anywhere would I leave my children alone with that man for lunch, much less to live without me in the picture, no way! Then he had the nerve to send me an email tonight asking to please let him say goodnight to the kids before they go to bed! I wanted to jump right through the computer and scream at him for what he's trying to do, but I didn't respond at all; no good can come of that. Oh, this is upsetting, but I'm trying to see it logically: surely his public record of domestic violence as filed right here in our county will serve to corroborate my claims, plus since my order of protection was filed, my son was interviewed by a children's advocacy service and he actually conveyed some of the abuse by his father to the authorities himself, which surely should count for something. He's more vile than I ever thought, truly. Tomorrow my whole agenda is off the plate. I'm going straight to my attorney's office to address this fully. There are dozens of witnesses and character witnesses who could attest to what a controlling and abusive man Derek is, but of course these are people who are all afraid to come forward; afraid to get involved because many of them live close to him. In any case, just before my doorbell rang I was feeding the kids and heating up some spaghetti for myself. As soon as I read what the summons was about, my appetite took a holiday and my stomach was quivering as if someone had kicked me with a steel boot. I wanted to grab my babies and hold them to me as tightly as I could; I wanted to squeeze them so hard that they would just melt back into me and be safe. And yet they had no idea, as they sat there, eating their chicken nuggets and apples. For a moment I just stood in the kitchen with the papers dangling from my hand, not sure what to do: what was I doing, again? Getting milk? No, laundry. No, was I eating? Oh, I don't know. But soon, if I don't get it together pretty fast, my kids will start to worry. "What is it, mommy?" Dillon will ask. And then, "What, mommy?" Ella will echo in the wake of her big brother. I couldn't have that. So even though I wanted to panic, to cry and scream, to rock in a corner holding my knees, I didn't do any of that. Instead, I went to the living room with my kids, and tickled them. And hugged them. And spun them around. And just tried to keep myself together even though my mind was in a completely different place. So now I'm telling you because I want to tell someone but I also don't want to get on the phone and panic everyone tonight. I just want to say here, the one time. And then I'll go sit down on the couch, and feel a bit numb until it's time to go to bed. And if I can sleep, that will be mercy. And when tomorrow comes, I'll go to the fight, all claws fully out. Wednesday is the next court hearing about the Order of Protection. Since Derek hasn't been served, I don't think he'll be there, but given his latest scheme of lies, maybe he will be. Who knows. All I know is that tomorrow I have a new mission. Protecting my kids. Again. And just when I was about to relax a little. Shame on me. Until next time, I'll keep you posted, dear friend...

Settling in...

Well my babies and I have been "free" for over a month, and I guess we should be settled by now. And in many respects we are: we have a home, food, clothes, a school, and we've done the round of meeting up with old friends and loved ones and sharing the good, if not tumultuous, news. Even so, I'm still looking for work and also trying to get my husband served with papers, both for the order of protection and for the divorce, but he's deliberately avoiding this process. He doesn't show up to court, which doesn't surprise me, but I know him: he checks public records regularly, and I'm sure he knows full well what the court dates are and exactly what I've done with regards to filing for divorce. If I can't get him served, it makes divorcing much more difficult, so that's a bit of a bur in my side at the moment. He's stayed scarce, though. He hasn't rushed over and camped outside of the house, or left creepy letters in my mailbox or anything, but he did send me roses twice. The first time the card simply had a mysterious date on it, which after much thought I realized was the date of our first kiss. The second time, the card said, "I will always love you." I can see what's happening here, and anyone about to leave an abuser should be prepared -- he's trying the lovey-dovey route to get me to re-think my actions and start up a dialogue. I haven't responded at all, nor will I. But here's the rub -- I know how this works, because I know how HE works -- if I don't respond to this soft sell, then his sentimentality will turn to anger and he will distort his sadness into rage and convince himself that I'm the monster and he's the victim. He'll turn me into a bitch who deserves only badness, and that's when the months of venom stretch into years of bitterness, and he will vow to himself to get me one way or the other. I know, because he's gone through this with his ex-girlfriend, and has said to me over the years all of the things he thinks she deserves for taking his daughter away from him. I used to say, "But you wouldn't really want any harm to come to her, would you, because she's your daughter's mother." That never seemed to phase him. This weekend I watched several shows on MSNBC about murders committed by spouses or children who were abused -- some "only" verbally and mentally -- until one day they snapped and killed the abuser. Now they sit in prison, guilty of a sin that is so tragic, and that somehow gave the abuser the final point, since the victim has lost their lives as well. As I watched each one, I'm serious when I say that I really and truly believe that I've saved my children from a devistating path, where something like that could one day have happened, and even if it never did, the sadness and anger that these people felt because of the years of abuse they endured had overtaken their lives like a cancer until there was nothing left for them but anger, resentment and frustration. I feel certain that my son, at the very least, would have either gotten so down on himself that he could have one day been suicidal, or he would have become so filled with repressed anger that he would have one day retaliated against his father, and that's when violence really gets out of hand. I know these are all hyptheticals, but as I watched these shows, I could just see my life and my kids lives ten years down the road, and I was SO grateful that we're out of that man's grip, I just can't express it. I guess the message here is to anyone who has children in this situation and is hesitating to leave. Even without knowing your specific situation, I can say that no one can benefit or even really exist with a controlling, abusive person lording over them. It will take its toll on your children, and on you. There's no easy way to leave, but there's no easy way to stay, either. You only get one life, and that's not a life, is it. Even with my unknown income and job status, my children and I are so happy to spend time together at home, because for the first time, we can relax. At mealtimes, my son used to literally look over his shoulder several times while eating, and ask me, "Is daddy here?" And I did the same thing -- I used to constantly get up and look out the window toward the gate to see if he was coming because I was always so on edge. How crazy is that! Of course I don't miss it. When my husband tries this sad, pathetic tactic of missing me, etc., yes, somehow it makes me sad, too, but not because I miss him. Just because I don't like being attached to any action that makes someone else so devistated, even him. And I know that as necessary as it was, our leaving did devistate him. Let's face it, if he had known how horrible he really was, he surely wouldn't have done it?? But in the end it doesn't matter. You have to leave, it's the only way to breath. And we're breathing fresh air for the first time. Until next time, dear friend...

My own Independence Day

This weekend our country celebrates its independence, but as the fireworks crackle and ribbons of red, white and blue splash across the tv screen, I'm giving thanks to my own new-found independence. I left Derek on June 8. Now June is over, and am I completely on my feet? No, not really. It looks like it on the surface: we're in our own condo with our own things, I have a car, and the kids are in a good school. But I still don't have a job, and the weekdays are spent between my attorney's office filing divorce papers and the court, sending yet another set of protection order papers through the mail in the vain hope of getting Derek served with what is now the second court date. It's not done; there are a lot of details still waiting to be resolved. Derek may not just fade into the past like I would wish him to; he might just show up in court and fight me. I don't like it, but the truth is on my side and I'll be ready. Since we left Derek, I've been both in crisis mode and in holiday mode, coping with some serious stress and yet rejoicing at the same time. It's a strange feeling, but you learn to live with it. I've been eating way too much of all the things I could never eat with Derek, and I've been visiting with old friends, all of whom were off limits to me in the old life. Now that July is here though I really have to face the future head on, and start getting onto my own two feet. As I embark on a new life, I'm bathed in the comfort of how happy it is just to be home with my children. I know I've said it before, but weekends used to be the long, dreaded stretch of time that I had to somehow fill with the kids outside of the house, because Derek was home resting and absolute silence was required at all times. Weekends used to be a nightmare, and now they're so relaxing. Now, Saturdays are what they should be, what they used to be for me as a kid. My son watches his favorite cartoons on the couch, whereas before he was confined strictly to his room with the door closed, he and Ella play and wrestle and laugh and chase each other. We all did a Billy Blanks workout video in the living room, again, something that we NEVER could have done before. The kids drew pictures and colored, also a new thing for us. And breakfast, or any other meal, is so nice. They help me set the table and unload the dishwasher, and we all sit together and actually TALK with each other, imagine that! Before the kids weren't allowed to speak at the table, and meals were a time when Derek just screamed at us for a hundred small infractions. Now, yes, we are FREE from that oppressive, chest-tightening life. Dillon is so much more relaxed too -- he no longer has the aggression that was beginning to fester within him. Yesterday I took Dillon to his first live show, Curious George. We had such a great time, and I guess it's just another example of how in some ways -- the most important ways -- how quickly life can stabilize if you never forget who you are inside. Then when you finally do leave -- and it's very hard to leave -- but when you finally do, you know who you are and what you want your life to be like. And it comes almost immediately. There are so many moments when I'll be doing something and I can still hear the echoes of Derek's voice screaming at me for it, but that voice will fade. Even if I have to face him in court, the horrible memory of living beneath him will fade. So happy Independence Day to me, Dillon and Ella. Until next time, dear friend...