Resurrection

 

Those that know me well, know that I subscribe to a slightly different outlook on life than most.  One of those areas is the belief that animals are often messengers and when they show up repeatedly, you should take heed.  Peacocks (not the horrible Katy Perry song or some random subscription to Peacocks "R" Us, either) have been showing up in my life to the point that since early December, I have stated repeatedly that I needed to look up their meaning.  They have been appearing every where in my life (work, gifts, jewelry, etc) as many as two to three times daily.  I don't know about you, but peacocks are NOT a normal part of my daily life or thoughts!  So after yet another appearance today, I consulted my Ted Andrews books and discovered that peacocks are associated with wisdom and vision.  Along with the phoenix, they represent rising from the ashes of our prior life and resurrection.  Peacocks also appear with the reminder to laugh at life.

I have come a long way since the trauma associated with 2010, but it still often causes me more grief than it should.  A result of those events has been to not only hide my tears, but to hide my laughter as well--after all, laughing at life and what was being thrown at me was apparently part of the problem.  Showing emotion of any kind is frowned upon within the paternal network of my family--laughter is no different.  Happiness is frowned upon--stoic German heritage at its best.  In the opinion of my family, leaving my relationship should have led to tears and misery.  Leaving my relationship and appearing not only happy, but filled with laughter and smiles at each new found day could only mean one thing--drugs.  Meth was the first one they accused me of--many others followed after.

 

I remember hearing my father laugh one time at my Grandmother's house. It was an odd, foreign sound and a hush settled across the kitchen as everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look and see if he was okay. It was not a natural sound. Our reaction was nearly one of fear--similar to the response when someone begins choking. Everyone freezes and then wonders if that person is alright or if they need assistance.  When my father laughed, no one else joined in--glances were quietly exchanged between my cousins and myself and I think a silent shudder may have passed amongst us, also.  You think I jest; yet I remember the experience quite well.

 

2010 and my laughter led to questions regarding my sanity.  The common question was "Why does she laugh and clap?  What is wrong with her?"  Nobody in my family was happy that I wasn't grieving.  They were angry with my zest for life.  It didn't not fit in with their expectations.  It was not logical.  What they didn't seem to understand, was that the grieving phase had occurred while I was still trapped with him.  Happiness was the natural response to having been set free of him and that life--who would not find a smile and a song upon their lips?

 

Sometimes I feel that they won.  I am ever more cautious with my tears and with my laughter.  I am again nearly a robot most days--stoic as I should be.  Flat as they think I should be.  But I do not enjoy their desire of who I should be--their vision for me is not the same one  that I carry for myself. Perhaps these are the reasons peacocks keep creeping into my life... To remind me to laugh. To remind me to rise above and recreate myself from the ashes and shattered self of 2010...

 

I am again reminded of the words from one of my closest friends during Father's Day 2010 when my pain and rage were consuming me.  He explained it to me as such: "Who needs fire when you have got plenty inside?  Create and recreate.  It is what you do best.  The art of creation and destruction are but one in the same.  Just destroy with a smile on your face and don't get rid of what you truly need."  Months after that Father's Day, the same friend also provided these words: "I have never doubted the fact that our families are our worst critics. Give your brother room and time. He will remember how to see you. The heart seldom forgets. Until then, don't discount your own vision for yourself...You must continue. If anything, you must not forget your worth. You are going to be a better you. One day, they will rise to meet you on a ground unseen by them. Pity them, if it helps... but continue. You are better for it, hard as it may be. You are not alone."

 

Thoughts for the new year ahead.  Thoughts to again find the person I was before they put me on the chopping block.  Thoughts to again allow happiness, laughter and light into my life.  That has always been me--always been my path--I must resume my journey as life means for me to live it--no longer by their visions for me...

 

 

 



Ponderings and Parables

It is a well-known fact that I am a stickler for manners. It is rumored that my grandmother once stuck her fork through the hand of one of her ill-mannered husbands when he reached in front of her at the dinner table. What does that have to do with the pondering of the day? Nothing really. Or maybe it does?

 

And I wonder, has she yet discovered the truth about the woodpecker?  Not my grandmother, mind you, for she has been gone from this world for nearly forty years.  No, it is another that I speak of now.  An important part of my family, for a brief while. Does she realise yet, that it was not ever tree decay that was the concern, so much as tooth decay? Mermaids with gingivitis were truly always the issue. Yet how silly to end a friendship over a woodpecker! It was silly coincidence that placed a full-fledged, live, feathered woodpecker in her favorite tree.  While I told her as much at the time, she insisted that it must be about her, because clearly, my world revolved around her.

 

Thus began the chain of lost friends, handcuffs and police cars.  Thus began myths of meth, of starvation, of suicidal and homicidal plottings.  Such began a world of witchcraft, talking to God, and visions of angels.  Friendships and family, trusted loved ones, all thrown to the wind  under the wings of an imaginary bird. Silly, you say?  No sillier than harboring dangerous animals, no sillier than being caught with paddles and handkerchiefs, no sillier than transforming oneself into a contortionist while handcuffed in the back seat of a police car.  Truly, no sillier than believing that the world consists of safety and that one may have personal rights.

 

It was a simple message. A message that had nothing to do with her. Yet, with it, she laid waste to my world and thought herself clever.

 

It is all right, now.  She has fallen over her own folly. Ill-conceived, nonexistent predictions now have become truth. What must they think now when they look back at those so called ramblings of insanity? Surely now I am even more ill-marked as the demon.  And so, the lies meant to destroy, have circled back around and found their true owners.  Paths have been cleared, obstacles removed, foes uncovered from beneath their masks of adoring love. It was a cleansing, a rebirth, a shedding of skin that was unbeknownst cancerous.

 

She was right, in a sense.  My world did revolve around her. Not in the same manner that she twisted herself around my world and attempted to constrict the life from it.  My world revolved around her in that, she was the one I called when I needed someone. It was her shoulder that I laid my head upon and cried. It was her that cheered my sorrows, found my laughter, and eased my mind.  Did she truly believe that  all of the gifts; the favors of dishes washed, children watched; anniversaries of sorrow well-marked, remembered and softened; that the years of attempts to make her life more pleasant were simply a ruse? A major plot of her demise at the expense of my own pocketbook and career? In what world does this make sense? Clearly, the same world in which woodpeckers destroy friendships.

 

It is safe, now. For clearly, she was not deserving of my love or the gift of my friendship. She took many with her.  So many that I miss; so like herself. But truly, do I miss her or the concept she stood for?  I recognize now that I watered tainted soil; the seeds that I carefully tended were devoured and reduced to rot. Looking back, there were many seeds that I nurtured and lovingly cared for, during those years. How much better it is to discover the empty soil and no longer waste precious resources needlessly toiling.

 

What has changed? My back still aches with the close of the day. My tears still fall to the tilled Earth.  Yet the sun rises each day and I begin again. I continue to pull and cast aside the weeds, still occasionally finding a spent seed husk. The seeds which I lovingly fed her; the empty husks that she spat back in mockery.  Seeds of the past; just empty shells of yesterday.  

 

Yet I still sometimes marvel over this immense chasm; all over a misunderstood parable that she so badly wanted to claim as her own.  Does she see it now?  Does she realize yet what she has cast away? Does she realize that only the very ill-mannered would treat a friend in such a manner? Ah, and truly, it matters not. 

 

Today, I choose to cultivate gentler life.  Today, I remember the lessons and recognize that sometimes a woodpecker is a woodpecker and sometimes, the sisterhood is broken.

The Evils of Desire

"There are two ways to get enough.  One is to continue to accumulate more and more.  The other, is to desire less."

 

To walk this path, it takes a certain change in mindset--an anti-modern American mindset, if you will. It started for me three years ago--recognizing that not only did I already have everything that I truly needed, but that my possessions do not define me, as I had once thought. Truly, it is the opposite--they hold me back and keep me tied down.

 

I do not wish to be tethered by possessions. Less is more and equals a happier existence, overall. Sometimes I still slip and see useless things that I think I must have, but overall, I would rather use the money that once was wasted on possessions and use it for experiences, such as travel and time spent with distant friends.

 

My family and many of the people in my life really fought me when I first started getting rid of my possessions--it led to conflict and turmoil that I can't even begin to describe--from me being on drugs and getting rid of my possessions to support my meth habit (because this also explained my weight loss) to me preparing to commit suicide (because according to THEIR calculations, I should be depressed over my recent break-up, not happy--as they were seeing).  Apparently, change is threatening on many levels. Thankfully, with that change also came the reduction of many people in my life that I thought were my friends but were actually sucking me dry and were bent on my destruction.

 

"The Buddhist gazes into the empty bowl and sees that it contains everything and that it always has.

The Nihilist gazes into the empty bowl and sees that it contains nothing and that it always has."

 

Just some thoughts as we enter this holiday season when possessions and the increased accumulation of material items becomes the main focus of many...

Fish Out of Water

Have you ever seen a tree growing on a boulder? Its roots exposed, reaching out; struggling to break through even the smallest cracks within the rock?  It is always seeking to find nutrients, water, even just a firm hold to protect it when strong winds blow through.

 

The flower seed that lands on concrete and manages to take root; it is no different. Its roots reach and reach, struggling to find purchase.  It eagerly soaks up and cleaves to each molecule of water that comes its way.

 

What of the plant that manages to push its head out from the asphalt, breaks through and reaches its limbs towards the sun?  Overcoming and conquering, in a world that says it should not exist.

 

Yet, somehow, life finds a way. 

 

And what of us?  What of those of us whom have struggled to overcome and rise above our circumstances?  Are we not any more amazing?  Can we not also inspire awe in those around us that have seen our lives, expect us to falter and hold their breath as we find yet another toehold in which to pull ourselves up?

 

Sometimes our lives do not provide the necessary elements for success, yet we manage to survive.  Sometimes there is a barrier that exists and it takes all of our strength just to move beyond.  Sometimes we are planted in a family, a community, a life where we are not understood--where we stand alone, not realizing that somewhere, there are others like us. 

 

Sometimes, we are planted alone, without the necessary elements and with barriers in place.  Here's to me.  Here's to you.  Here is to those of us that have never had it easy and probably never will.  We are the strong ones for all the fragility in our lives.  We overcome.  We conquer. We find a way, in a world that says we should not even exist.  Yet here we are. 

 

Smile and realize how far you have journeyed.  Smile and know that you are not alone.  Smile and know that you will overcome.  You have made it this far, yes? Here's to you and knowing that you will be okay.  Sometimes survival through the day is the most we can hope for.  Just remember to pause, reflect, and catch your breath when the trek seems to be all uphill--it just means the view will be all the more breath-taking when you reach the top...

Of Birthdays

Sometimes he stumbles, too.  He has been on that spiral, slipping lower and lower.  Oddly enough, he is sinking as I am rising.  I am not quite sure how to help; I think it may be different when it is one's partner... although I am not sure why.

 

I go through regular bursts of just crazy, insane love for him.  But I never go through crazy, insane bursts of telling him.  It is always there, perched on my tongue, but while I rehearse the syllables and string them into coherent thoughts--it occurs to me that spilling them isn't as easy as thinking them.  It isn't rejection that I fear, but simply appearing as the lovestruck, silly girl. But maybe that is rejection, too.

 

I want to tell him that he is my world.  That I can't imagine a life without him. That the time spent apart equals me calculating the minutes until I am back by his side.  I want to ask him how he feels that he is a failure; that his life is a failure--when we have found something that some people never find in a lifetime?  To find one's life partner as young as we have is a blessing and a treasure.  How can that be failure?

 

We may not have a lot of money.  We aren't as financially secure as two individuals with Master's Degrees and this much college should be--but we are surviving.  There is a roof over our head.  It is a comfortable home.  We are clothed, fed, and still manage to play a bit.  Not as much as we would like, but we are better off than many people in the world.  More importantly, we have "us."

 

Does he not remember the long years alone?  The long years with partners that played you for the fool; that took everything you gave, everything you had, and still insisted on taking your soul, too?  Does he not remember empty houses, empty rooms, empty beds when the soul-crushing desire was to just have someone by your side to tell you that everything would be alright?  Does he not remember tears, prayers, wondering if you were destined to be alone for the remainder of your life?  Wondering if you were too fucked up for someone else to love?  Too fucked up to let yourself be loved?  Does he not remember those days? If only I could so easily forget those days, myself.

 

I see him as my friend, my companion, my confidant.  He is the one person I trust with all of my life details.  Coming from one that struggles to let others into her world, I view this as an immense gift.  As one that struggles with preferring my independence, freedom and time alone--he has still managed to become a part of my world that is not only embraced, but cherished.  Fifteen months of living together has felt right from day one and is as natural to me as breathing.  Is this not a gift?

 

I have had rings of promise placed upon my finger many times before.  Yet I was never able to cross that threshold with other partners.  While I still sometimes feel that fear and contemplate running, I simply can't imagine my life without him.  Could I do it? Sure.  Would I be fine? Yes.  But would I rather have him by my side?  Without a doubt.  I want to be with him.  He is the one that I choose to build a future with.  This is not a choice I have ever taken lightly, hence a choice I have refused to entertain in the past.  Yet with him, I am willing to make such a commitment. Does this not speak volumes regarding my faith in him as a human?

 

What is it about him that makes him different?  He is who he is.  I can not explain it beyond that. I love the person he is. It is that simple. It is that complex. 

 

He does not try to hurt me--physically or emotionally.  He is there for me when I am hurting and tries to lessen my pain--physically and emotionally.  He supports me, emotionally.  I remember early into the relationship, sitting outside, talking to him--listening to him and making myself promise to never hurt this one, that he deserves better than that.  And still worrying when I am cross or angry,  that feeling of not wanting to hurt him.  He, too, has had much pain in his life--pain marked as "love." I don't want to cause further pain in his world.  I want him to feel as safe with me, as I feel with him.

 

But I don't know how.  I know that insecurity, doubt, and self-loathing can not be removed by another.  I know that while outside forces can contribute to our feelings of self-regard, positive self-regard must come from within.  This is not something that I can give him.  I can barely express my true feelings of love to him, let alone convince him to change his inner-feelings about himself. 

 

So why don't I express that love when it is bubbling, brewing and so difficult to contain?  Is it because I am logical? Is it because I have always been ruled more by my head than my heart?  Is it my fear that I will sound silly and crushing? Yes, yes, and yes.  But even more so, if he can't see this relationship as the gift and blessing that I see it as; am I wrong in seeing it???

Just an Every Day Conversation with Myself...

So maybe it made me the bigger person, but there are days my anger gets the better of me and I think I should have hung them all out to dry.  And why not? When I think about my own private island, my 100-acre woods, owning the Taj Mahal?  Making people accountable?  Preventing similar incidents from happening to others?  At the time, I was so worried about ruining my father's career because the truth is, he lied. He abused his power. What he did carried consequences.

 

"IMPORTANT NOTICE: ANY PERSON WHO PROVIDES ANY FALSE INFORMATION ON PURPOSE WHEN HE COMPLETES THIS FORM MAY BE SUBJECT TO CRIMINAL PROSECUTION AND MAY FACE CRIMINAL PENALTIES INCLUDING CONVICTION OF A MISDEMEANOR."

 

Yet, I worried about ruining his career. WTF? Not even two years after the incident he retired.  Hindsight, baby, hindsight...

 

Yet, I stop to think...

 

Did he care about what his actions could have done to MY career?  Did he care about what he was doing to me as person? Did he care enough to stop, listen and truly help me?

 

And truly, the lawsuit wouldn't have been against him--it would have been against The Meadows; their crisis worker (that I had previously supervised, had fired AND IS STILL jacking up the mental health field with her incompetence) that seriously screwed up; her supervisor that signed her name to everything (INCOMPETENT) and was taken in by the badge and power of my father...

 

Yet, it would have hurt his career and effected his credibility...

 

Hindsight. Remember hindsight. Stop. Breathe. Let it go. It has been two and a half years. It is in the past. You can not change it. It is over. The statute of limitations is two years. Why won't you move on???

 

Could you have mentally handled a trial? No. Two and a half years after the fact--your father's emails crushed and broke you--even after the time and healing.  How would it have felt to be publicly put on trial and have to hear him make all those statements about you, to have them publicized and to have your person be judged in a court of law?

 

You VS Him.

 

He is the law. What are you???

 

Yet, there is a small voice of reason: What about all of the other people he has harassed through the years? The others that were nobodies and lost because he is the law and an upstanding citizen?  How many stories have you heard through the years about him harassing people, trespassing on their property, and prosecuting them?  How many times has he stood and lied?  You had a chance to bring some sort of justice to the world.  You had an opportunity to fight back.  You could have been a voice for those individuals and you blew it.

 

How many times have you been beat up, spit upon and harassed because he is your father?  How many times have you physically paid because he arrested someone?  You, yourself, went through the treatment he offers to "criminals" and you did nothing.  You cried because he hurt your feelings.  You hid and licked your wounds.  You could have nailed him to the very cross that he hung for you.  Yet you worried about what would happen to his job, his credibility, his soul.  You fool.

 

So maybe you think his days of terrorizing others are over now that he has retired? That none of this matters?  Seems logical...

 

This story's conclusion at a later date...



When Love Hurts

Just a quick look at another blog and their take on abusers--all very good information and a fantastic site for creating domestic violence awareness.  Overall though, this one really hit home for me...

Important Things To Know About Men Who Are Abusive--Tip #5

 

And my comment:

"I lost most of my family when I sought a PFA against an ex-boyfriend, two years ago. Even now, my family is divided as a result and many still take his side. I no longer go to family functions and have barred my father from my life since getting the PFA. People that I thought were my close friends cast me out for “hurting him” with the PFA. Thank you for bringing up this point and creating awareness..."

 

It truly amazes me how dating him and ultimately breaking-up with him, still has this much effect on my life, two and a half years later.  Even with all he has done to women before and since me, they still take his side.  It broke my heart then and the pain doesn't seem to end.  Sometimes moving forward is still such a challenge.  Even though I know I am better off without him, without my father, without my family, without his family, and without the friends that I then thought were my life--the pain still cripples...

The Visit

Sometimes it becomes horribly apparent that we can never truly know another person--nor them, know us.  In those flashes of rage and hatred, their true feelings are not only uncovered, but bathe us in truth.  His words a thin veil; his expression not hidden quickly enough.  Had we been alone, I wonder what might have transpired?  And I wonder, did she notice? Was the veil for her sake? He claims to be his own person, but he is much the same.  His words not capable of matching the body language--was I alone in seeing?  And do I hurt myself by allowing this one back in?

Dead Letter Files

Dad,

 

I have no intentions of going back and forth on it either. I was attempting to give you an opportunity to see things from my perspective and to provide an opportunity for communication to exist.  It isn't hatred or bitterness--it isn't living in the past--it was an attempt to fix things and move forward.

"What you see often depends entirely on what you are looking for."

 

I think that applies to the situation then and it applies to the situation now. I can't meet you half way when you are only committed to your own views. Half way means you would meet me or at least try.  So you are right--this is pointless. I am attempting to explain myself to someone that is committed to misunderstanding me and I respect myself enough to recognize that these communications are toxic to me and that I need to let you go completely.

 

In order for us to quit going back and forth, one of us has to stop the communication.  Clearly, that is going to have to be me. There will be no more attempts on my part.

 

I love you, Dad.  But I have a right to try to find happiness and inner-peace in my life.  I had hoped that I could include you in that picture.  I see that I can't and I will continue to try to accept that, much as it hurts. 

 

I am choosing to walk away not because I hate you, not because you are right and I can't accept it, not because I am incapable of forgiving.  I am walking away because I respect myself enough to know that this is toxic and is not going to change. I am walking away because I have to.

 

I know who I am. I can't force you to see that person. Attempting to show you only hurts me. While I began this with the intention of hitting "Reply" when I finished, I am aware that also means that I will have a response back and more pain...

Acceptance

I attended a wedding, this past Saturday, in which the bride had lost her mother.  After the wedding, as the photos were being taken, she posed with her father and held a picture of her mother.  I had only met the groom twice prior to this and had never met the bride but understood her pain as she was crying, yet trying to smile for the pictures...

 

I always wondered how I would fair, should I ever marry or have children, without my mother.  I realize women do it every day, but it seems impossible to me. Nearly twenty years of being motherless and I still struggle more than anyone in my life realizes.

 

I guess maybe it was the prospect of my own marriage that made me reach out to my father.  We haven't spoken since April 22, 2010 and I truly believed this was the wisest choice for my happiness, sanity and well-being.  Yet the nagging voice fought me (not to mention the voice of my youngest brother whom kept insisting that if I explained things from my prospective, things may be different--that "Dad has mellowed out--he is different--retirement has changed him--he wants a relationship with you...").  So I reached out.

 

I knew that as things stood, he and his wife would be the only people in my family that I would exclude from the wedding.  I guess I wasn't capable of doing that without at least trying to make amends.  There was the part of me that didn't want to hurt him by excluding him--to intentionally hurt another is difficult for me--no matter what they have done to me.

How foolish I am at times.

 

And as things have progressed, I regret the attempts that I made. I did myself more damage for trying and have not only reopened my past wounds but allowed him access to create new ones.  The past months since that first attempt at communication (5/29/12) have been more painful than I would have ever expected.  I thought maybe there was a chance, maybe there was hope.  I am no different than I was in youth, hoping he would notice me and extend love.  Confusion, disappointment, tears--nothing has changed.

 

I realize, now, that at my wedding I will be parentless.  The reality of it is... that it hurts.  My father has never been a good person in my life, but there was a brief period, prior to the PFA/302 incident, where we had some semblance of a relationship--for a few years, we had a civil, "friendly" relationship, in which we had a facade that I was able to almost accept as "normal." I was never "Daddy's Little Princess."  I don't ever remember him "cherishing" me or even liking me. But for a little while in my life, I pretended that it was alright--I had a father.

The past months have been so painful.  The messages he has sent have made me realize that nothing has changed, no matter what he presents to the rest of the world, he is still the same man that I have always known.  There will never be that fairy-tale ending where he realizes that I am an okay person and that he loves me. He will never be proud of me.  He will never see me for me.  I will always be the child that amounted to nothing--a mistake.

So at this wedding, as I watched the bride lean into her father, grasping her mother's photograph and hurting--missing her mother and wanting her there--I felt her pain and struggled with the concept of my own "special day."  I finally realized why I reached out to my father not even a week after the proposal...
 

Oddly enough, the day after the wedding, I received this message from a close friend that had also been a friend of my mother's:

 

"I just wanted to let you know that if you want me to, I would be honored to stand in your mom's place at your wedding.   I would also respond to the minister or official "Who gives this woman to be married?" with "Her mother and I do."  She is so happy for you that you found ______ and I know she would be there if she could.   Just let me know.  Love you very much!"

 

Things may not always turn out the way that we hope or want them to, but somehow, the universe still sees our needs, feels the aching in our hearts and provides an answer.  I have struggled with an answer here for many years--it didn't take this proposal to bring about the questions and struggles I am going through.  But yet, an answer arrived...

Endings

So now my father is not only saying that he saved my life by his actions, but that he also prevented an act similar to the CO theater shooting and the WI Sikh temple shooting.  His latest message stated... Ah, screw it... I can't even begin to summarize.  It is easier to just lay it out:

 

 

"I have no intentions of going back and forth with you on the subject. It is obvious that you don’t want to patch any old hurts and move on and all you want to do is have a fight. I will not participate.

There is an old saying, “those you dwell on and live in the past have no future.” You simply aren’t ever going to find happiness until you lean to move past old hurts. And, you can never make another person happy until you learn to be happy with yourself and who you are.

I do have a few final comments though. The everyone was just that; EVERYONE, both within the family and numerous others. Everyone who had contact with you was concerned about both your physical and emotional health. I know you didn’t and still don’t see it but if your recent communications have done nothing else they have even further convinced me that you blocked out a great deal of what really occurred and somehow came to believe things that did not occur had occurred.

It isn’t required that you have already hurt yourself or others to evoke sufficient concern for vigilant and carrying people to step in and try to avert bad things from happening and that is just what I did.

I went to your house to try to figure out want was going on and you simply shut me out and got mad that I was even asking you questions since you didn’t believe there was anything wrong with you and all of your problems were coming from other people.

I have seen the folly that all to often follows when people miss, ignore or otherwise fail to take action when others are sending warning signs, and you were sending lots of warning signs. A few weeks ago in Colorado over a dozen people died, several dozen more were wounded and hundreds of people had their lives simply torn apart because of a guy sending warning signs, who otherwise appeared perfectly normal, after they failed to act on the warning signs they saw. A little over a week ago a guy in Wisconsin killed several people after his friends and family failed to act on the warning signs he was showing. Those things are happening every day somewhere so people sticking their heads in the sand and hoping it isn’t going to happen in their world of existence is simply foolish.

You see it isn’t, nor should it be, required that you wait until a person has already hurt themselves or others to evoke sufficient concern for vigilant and carrying people to step in and try to avert the potential for bad things happening…. and that is just what I did. Would you have gone over the deep end and hurt yourself? I don’t know, I would like to think not but I am sure the families of the Colorado, Wisconsin and thousands of others that lost loved ones because they or someone else failed to see or act on warning signs sure wish now that it is too late they hadn’t ignored the signs they saw. The real sad part and failure in the system comes when the professionals fail to recognize the warnings and don’t get the person the help they needed even after they end up in front of them because they were displaying such warning signs.

As I have repeatedly said, you are the only one that can decide when your hatred and bitterness has been enough. But, I can tell you that I learned a long, long time ago that hatred and bitterness are both things that hurt the person harboring them and if kept long enough they will destroy ay potential one has for happiness. And, no one is happy with a person who isn’t happy within him or her self. Hate or happiness isn’t something other give you or take from you, they come form within based on what you choose to live with.

Get touch with me if or when you should one day decide you want to forgive and get beyond the past. But, if isn’t doing anyone any good, and is only going to cause more harm, to keep dragging the same old hurts around and beating them back and forth. So, I don’t plan on doing the back and forth of the same old issues over and over and will not respond to them in the future.

So, how have you been and what is going on with your life now?"
 

So what is there to say?  And is there a reason to bother???

Pulling Off the Kid Gloves and Hopping Into the Ring

Another response:

It seems to me that you are blatantly refusing to answer the questions that I keep asking, but instead are trying to just get me to accept that what you are saying is the truth.  "I don’t know if that ended up helping or not but I know you are still alive today and I am not so sure you be if I hadn’t intervened when I did." "I believe you were in danger of dying before that change."  What was I doing that was going to lead to my death? What did you do that prevented it? You keep dodging this and refuse to admit that the answer is: I WASN'T DO ANYTHING THAT WAS HARMFUL TO MYSELF OR ANYONE ELSE.  You just keep saying everyone agreed that I needed help.  Who exactly was the "EVERYONE" that thought this was a good idea? Your wife? My ex-sister-in-law? _________?

"Nor did I lie about anything when I talked to the councilors while I was trying to get you help. It appears that you did then and still do block out many of the goofy thing you were both saying and doing at the time." (8.12.12)  So you are telling me that I DID write a letter stating that I was going to kill the entire family? That I did make verbal threats to kill the family and just don't remember?  And are you denying that you stated that I was a danger to others and that I inflicted/attempted to inflict serious bodily harm upon others and that I would attempt it again?  Who did I harm and who else was I planning to harm? You deny stating that I was homicidal and obsessed with death? And where exactly is this letter that I wrote stating that I was going to kill the whole family?  Can you send me a copy? No, in fact, I will believe every word you say when you produce a copy of this letter that I wrote. When did I verbally threaten to kill the family? Who did I make these statements to? 

You deny stating that I was into witchcraft? You deny stating that I obsess over dead people?  And so what? Last time I knew, in American there is something called freedom of religion--pretty sure you couldn't have had me hung, burnt at the stake or committed even if I did decide that I wanted to practice witchcraft.  Or maybe that was how I was harming others? Slaying babies in the name of Satan or something?  And I am pretty sure that missing people that are deceased or being capable of feeling grief are not reasons to spend the rest of one's life locked up in a state mental hospital.

How about my aggressive pets that are harmful to people? Why, because you were the one and only person my dog has ever growled at? Seems to me that says something about your character and actions towards me that day. Or were you afraid of the ferrets? Maybe the frogs? Again, pretty sure they aren't going to lock me up just because one of the most lovable dogs on Earth found the one person that she didn't like. And it was your actions and the way that you were treating me that made her not like you--you caused her to believe that she needed to protect me. Or maybe it was my telepathic connection that I gained from practicing witchcraft causing her to react to you that way?

You deny stating that I "am a liar and have always been a liar?"  Do you deny that you said this was the reason that you knew ________ didn't do any of those things, that I was crazy and doing them myself?  You twisted the problems I tried to talk to you about (the harassment ________ was causing) and turned it into me being paranoid and seeing flashing lights, hearing voices, and hearing people at the door that weren't there...  Twisting the truth is no different than the other lies.

And what about stating that if I went into the hospital _______ would be in charge of my house and pets? She denied knowing anything about that. Are you calling her a liar, too?

It seems to me that your own statements contradict each other:  "When I went to the Courthouse, to act as your support, you tried to keep people between you and me as though I was the villain, when all I have ever done is attempt to be there for you and never once did anything to harm you." (5.30.12)  "I didn’t have any contact with ________ that day and spent all of my time discussing your situation with ________ and the others there on your behalf." (8.9.12)  "Nor did I ever talk to the Judge about you in any matter." (8.12.12) Why were you there, Dad?  I know you said it was to support me, but could you define how you did that, please?  How did you treat me when you came in and talked to me?  If my version of reality is so skewed, I would love for you to share the true reality.  Maybe it will assist me with remembering the truth that I am apparently incapable of producing due to my "delusional" state and "100% fabricated nonsense that never happened." I am sure that you sharing how it all really happened, what was really said, and what really transpired would be a wonderful intervention to bring me back to reality.

It seems to me that perhaps you are the one that is not remembering reality very well...

*I generally struggle and try very hard to be respectful to my elders, especially my father.  But I guess sometimes even I reach that breaking point...

As Much As I Could Do...

Dad,

I tried repeatedly to talk to you and you kept telling me it was between __________ and me.  You refused to listen--insisting I was on meth and needed to go to a rehab.  You don't remember how your "hug" turned into you shaking me and yelling that I needed to tell you what I was on?  Or sending other family members to my house with the message that if I didn't go to rehab, you would arrange it? Or how at the PFA hearing you stood over me, shaking your finger in my face, stating that you would get me put away, if I didn't commit myself?  That is not being supportive. That was bordering on harassment.

As the hospital tests indicated, I never was on drugs. Not only was I NOT starving myself, but my BMI was in the NORMAL range--not even underweight.  Your 302 report went from me being a witch, to talking to God, to "seeing demons and bad angels."  You claimed I was homicidal, suicidal and a bunch of other crap.  Clearly they would have kept me at the hospital if any of what you said in your 302 report had even a grain of truth--as soon as all of the tests I requested came back clean and I found a ride home, I was discharged. Somehow I fooled them? Somehow I had clean blood and urine on my person that I was able to trick them with? I wasn't on drugs. I wasn't starving myself.  What exactly was I dying from? Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe you were wrong? Why isn't that possible?

Whether you believe it or not, what you did added to my problems in ways you probably don't even realize.

Did you help by having two police officers come and rough me up? I already had a bulging disc in my back before that--I have very serious neck and back issues now because of you convincing the police that I was homicidal and needed thrown around and handcuffed like a criminal. That has cost me a small fortune over the past two years and has significantly decreased my quality of life. So I don't see how that helped me.

While we are on that one--being led into the hospital in handcuffs and being evaluated by my peers. How was that helpful? It was damaging to my career--so I really am missing how that helped me? What about your calls to my employer prior to that? In many positions, that could have cost me my job. Thankfully my employer knows me well (he was even the one that came and gave me a ride home from the hospital after you had the police deliver me there), knew the situation in full and ignored your attempts to cause problems. You say you want me to have a solid direction in life--how were any of these actions supposed to contribute to such? I could have lost my job--eight years of college down the drain. Exactly what type of solid direction is it that you had in mind as a result of that?

Let me tell you what you DID cause to happen...

Physically, the police did a lot of damage to me. I wasn't able to drive for quite some time because of that.  No driving also meant no work.  The back problems that I had have increased tenfold and I have neck problems now, too.  Two and a half years later and I am still paying for two police officers coming and throwing me around like a criminal.

You told family members that I was "a liar, have always been a liar, and that's how you knew that ________ didn't do any of those things." How can you expect me to feel all warm and fuzzy about you when these are the things that you say and believe about me? You don't think that hurt me deeply? It broke my heart and still does. I went into a horrible depression for most of the year after that and still have depression caused by that.

You violated my rights. You lied all through that 302 form and I am not sure if you are aware that if I had pressed charges, you could have gotten in serious trouble for that. Not to mention that I am lucky the judge even still granted me a PFA with my own parent trying to convince him that I was on drugs, needed locked up in Warren and that I was insane. If you had truly been concerned for my safety or was supporting me--you certainly would not have done that during my PFA hearing.

So now I have to ask, again, how exactly did you save my life? What exactly do you think you did that helped me?

I did need your support--I BEGGED you for it.  You could only see what you believed to be the issues--you couldn't then and apparently can't see, even now, what the issues were.  Yes, I got better.  But it was because of what _________ and Judge ____________ did for me.  They made ___________ leave me alone. 

I wanted your help. You refused me, not the other way around and I think if you really look inside yourself, you know that too. I realize you responded how you thought it needed to be--with guns blazing and as if I were a criminal. But I needed help, not added harassment. That was horrible and not how you treat an adult. Not how you treat someone you love, someone that was trying to escape a domestic violence issue.  Having the police come and take me away added to my already significant issues of not feeling safe on my own property; to my feelings of not feeling safe anywhere.

I realize that I can't force you to see things from my perspective. I tried explaining it to you when I was in the middle of the situation and you refused to listen then. I did not shut you out--you refused to hear any of what I said and formulated your own opinions revolving around me being on drugs, starving myself, and being insane.  You came onto my property, insisted that I was on meth and demanded that I go to rehab.  You sent other family members with the same demand.  From there it was that if I didn't sign myself into the state mental hospital--you would put me there.  You showed up at my PFA hearing demanding that Judge ___________ commit me! I tried over and over again to tell you what was going on--YOU were shutting ME out by refusing to listen to me.  Surely you can see this??? 

Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but just because it is your opinion does not make it truth. 

I had sincerely hoped that after two years, you would see where maybe you were wrong. Yet clearly you still aren't hearing me. You said that you were "willing to make amends but I would have to meet you half way with it."  Why is your halfway still 100% your way?

I love you, Dad, but I respect myself enough to know that none of that was healthy for me and that it is never going to change.  I have always been a bad person in your eyes and I can't change that.  You admitted that "I have no regrets about taking the actions I took and would do the same again under the same circumstances, not because I don’t love you but because I do and always will." 

It hurts me that for as much as you say you can meet me halfway, you still aren't capable of seeing me for who I am, still not capable of hearing me--that isn't a loving relationship. That is you telling me that you know my life inside and out better than I do. It is you, telling me, that as an outsider to my life during that entire situation, that only YOU know the truth. A loving relationship entails two people willing to share and listen to each other. I don't know that you realize how hard you have always made this relationship. I do love you. I do realize that you love me--but your way of love seems to keep hurting me more than helping me. I wish you could understand that and just be supportive. That is all I have ever wanted.

I can't force you to see things from my perspective. I accept that. I realize that you will always have your opinions about me and my life and that I cannot change that.  I realize that you will continue to see the relationship as you having always done what was best for me--I even acknowledge that it is your sincere belief. That's fine. But I think in all fairness, that part of that meeting halfway is you at least pondering the possibility that it wasn't for the best--that maybe you were wrong.

The reality of it is, I can't change your mind and I am done trying. I am the person that lives my life. I am the expert on my life--not you.  I said it before: UNTIL YOU ARE WILLING TO SEE ME, UNTIL YOU ARE WILLING TO HEAR ME, YOU CANNOT BE A PART OF MY LIFE.  This is too emotionally damaging for me to keep doing. I shouldn't have to beg for you to try to understand me and be a healthy part of my life. I love you, Dad, but I am not willing to allow you to continue hurting me. I don't believe that you intentionally try to hurt me, but in all reality, that seems to always be what happens... Me forgiving, me allowing you back in my life and it happening over and over.

Even if you don't mean to hurt me, even if you think you are acting in my best interest--it isn't.  I recognize also that you keep playing this out as "me not being able to accept that you love me"--that isn't the issue either.  The issue is that you did make the wrong choice, you did make a mistake, you did hurt me deeply, and that instead of admitting it--you are trying to tell me that I don't understand my life; that you are the expert. 

The issue is, I am done trying to reason with you, when you are not capable of looking beyond yourself.  It isn't fair to me and I am very sorry that you don't understand. I have tried forwards and backwards. I shouldn't have to go to such great levels just for you to be a part of my life.  If you can't truly do it with love, if you can't truly be a healthy piece of my life, then I really can't have you as a part of it.  I hope some day you will understand this.

A Reminder

"When you live in complete acceptance of what is,

that is the end of all drama in your life."
 ~Eckhart Tolle~

Returned

I have to admit, I have been bothered by my father's message since May and not a day has gone by that I didn't contemplate my response. The anger has finally passed (for the most part) and the situation just makes me sad, overall.  My boyfriend feels that this is progress and shows that I am moving through the grief cycles--his opinion is that I am better off without my father and shouldn't respond to the email.  I am sure he is right, but I don't know what I want. 

I guess I want my father to recognize that he was wrong and apologize. The bigger part of me understands that my father is not capable of ever admitting he is wrong.  I may regret it, but today, I finally responded--short, sweet, to the point... Most of my practice runs are saved as drafts here--they were all too lengthy and still unfinished. Granted my return message still contained more fire and anger than I wanted, but without rereading his message or torturing myself with it again, this seemed to sum it up best... 

"Really? This is what you believe? That you were supportive of me at the PFA hearing and through the entire situation? And you really give yourself credit with saving my life? What did you do that helped? Nothing in this message makes a bit of sense..."



A Response?

I still haven't responded to my father's nasty-gram. I read over it for the second time tonight and thankfully my internal response is now dull, muted.  I have contemplated responses over and over in my mind but can't seem to bring myself to actually forming the words beyond that. I am still angry, but thankfully, not as frequently and I guess my fear is that no matter what I respond with, I am going to be faced with another response from him that evokes negative emotions that I do not want. 

I am thankful that I read Toxic Parents by Susan Forward prior to attempting contact with him. It was a tear-jerker for me. I guess there is always going to be that part of me that thinks something should change--that he will suddenly have an epiphany in life and everything will be better.  Thankfully, reading that book helped me to recognize that he is who he is, there will never be a fairy-tale ending and no matter what I say or try, his vision of me will always be skewed and painful.

I just look forward to the day when I completely give up hope and can close the door without ever looking back or trying to open it again...

Reality Check

It's funny.  I put my house on the market shortly after meeting my current fiance.  My plan was to sell the house, my Earthly possessions and buy an RV.  It was going to be my Rottweiler and myself, touring America--stopping occasionally to work and moving on when the need/urge arose.  I have friends all over the U.S. and it was just going to be one big road trip. Just me and a dog nicknamed, Boo.

My house had a buyer shortly after I put it on the market.  She was from out-of-state, saw the pictures online and was willing to meet my asking price--no questions asked.  Talked it over briefly with the future fiance, whom also owned his own home and somehow or other, the For Sale sign came down; a month later, he was living with me.  For those that know me well, they understand how hasty and unlike me such an action was.  My brain generally rules my heart and I am prone to over analyzing my own actions as opposed to acting upon impulse.

A year later, his house is sold.  His Earthly possessions are now housed here.  Thank goodness I had bought a five bedroom house (for a single person) as we now have space for his three children.  Unfortunately, my taste has always been antiques and collectibles.  Not very practical when the children range from eight-years-old to fourteen-years-old and they reside in a household of six children.  They have little concept of "antique," breakable," or the concept of "Do NOT touch that."

I have never been good with sharing.  Be it my space or anything else.  Not that I shouldn't have learned with two younger brothers, but it has still always been a personal struggle/personality flaw.  I have always taken great pride in my possessions and have struggled with letting go of material objects--even when they were broken or no longer functional/useful.  As a quiet soul, my material possessions defined the inner me just as much as at thirty-eight, my ridiculous T-shirts are my voice.

However, something shifted in my personality/who I am, about two years ago and all the things that were most important in my life (my pets, my home, my "stuff") some how went from being my everything, to becoming burden.  Something changed and I realized that life experiences were more important than all of these possessions. Suddenly my possessions were holding me back and keeping me chained in a place I no longer loved. 

I am not entirely sure what happened.   These changes/shifts started even before the fiasco of April 22, 2010.  I began by relocating my cat (whom I still love dearly and miss more than I can begin to express)--she went to live with my Grandma.  This was also due to several other factors: allergies, asthma, and the fact that she was making my PTS even worse with her nighttime activity.  Shortly after, I had to have my other cat put down.  A year later, my Rottie, Boo was adopted by a friend of my brother (again, still missing deeply).  I even attempted to find homes for my three ferrets (whom still reside here).

I know many people questioned my actions--my furbabies have always been my life.  For me to relocate them to other homes has left many of those that know me scratching their heads.  Over the past months, as I have been attempting to sell off my antiques and worldly possessions, the whispers continue...  "What is going on with her? She loves her pets, her house, her things. Is she okay?"

They say personality essentially remains consistent throughout a life-time.  Yet I went from proud homebody, with a menagerie of critters as children, to what?  I don't know for sure.  I still miss my pets.  It is a tad bittersweet as I watch my antiques moving out at a fraction of what they are worth.  But I can't deny that something changed two years ago. 

As I mentioned, relocating the pets was also for health reasons.  I haven't been required to take Advair and have not had an asthma attack in the two years since my cats left.  With my back issues, having a Rottweiler was causing me more physical difficulty than I could continue to manage.  The ferrets? Yes, I have to shower immediately after handling them, but I can't part ways with them.  These three will likely be my last, none-the-less.  I have come to the realization that fur bearers in my home is not a healthy choice for me.  For the first time in my life, I am taking the advise that my doctors always gave--"my health first."

Ridding myself of my beloved possessions?  My antiques were meant to be my retirement fund.  In twenty, thirty years, I planned on selling them with good profit.  Currently, I have a fiance with three children.  Would I rather that they get ruined and end up in the driveway with the garbage or part with them now? It truly is the logical choice.  Not to mention, child-friendly furniture will ease my stress immensely.  Watching children play surrounded by antiques and extensive collectibles does not overly warm my heart.  Watching them plop themselves down on Victorian-era furniture makes me cringe.  They are children.  This shouldn't be a museum.

As I mentioned, I was selling the house, auctioning off everything else and hitting the road.  Is it coincidence that my attachments ceased shortly before I met my fiance?  I think not.  I don't know that I would have been able to let them go several years ago.  I had already faced the concept of letting things go that I loved--in trade for something I wanted more... FREEDOM.  How different is it now?  I have come to terms with the fact that my possessions were tying me down.  And what if my house caught fire or was burglarized?  Having my possessions  equal my life was a disaster waiting to happen. 

They may say that personality doesn't change. Yet I did a 180.  I believe that this was life cluing me in that I was ready to take a new direction--one that I hadn't visualized before.  If the things in life that were important to me then still reigned in my heart, there is no way my current relationship would have made it as far as it has.  Many of my friends are dumbfounded... "He has kids and they live with her?" "WHAT???" Granted, I still struggle with this--but I am fortunate.  A year before I met him, I began getting rid of stuff and opening these spaces. 

I believe everything happens for a reason.  I believe in a purpose for all events that occur--even simple choices such as the route we choose to take when driving home, to being five minutes behind schedule.  We may not always understand, we may not always like what happens--but yet, it is part of our story, it is not without reason.  Maybe sometimes these things are part of somebody else's story and we are such a minor character, we do not even recognize our part...

At any rate, I believe my shift in priorities was to allow him to enter my life more easily.  Past partners did not have active roles with their children--it had never before been an issue.  Maybe it is all coincidence.  I am fine with that, also.  But it seems to me that my life was opening up to greet something greater.  I was ready for an adventure that I had never undertaken.  I was ready to slip free of the tethers and fly.  My attachments lost their value, opening so much space to be filled with something better. 

Yes, I recognize that he has (in some ways) taken their place--which is equally dangerous and terrifying--any attachment presents the opportunity for sorrow.  However, I prefer the place I am in now to the one in which I had my former reality.  Possessions, attachments to material items--there is no freedom there. This is a much happier place to be...

Continued Silence

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were an expert on my life and how I should live it.  Please continue while I take notes." ~Unknown~

I am still pondering possible responses to my father's email.  It came in on May 30th and daily I contemplate how to proceed.  Daily, I realize that I am still too angry to attempt such a feat, gracefully.  And I also remember why I hadn't made contact with him for over two years prior to the May 29th mistake.

But at least now it is only PTS keeping me up late and waking me up through the night--it is no longer also the anger at my father's audacity, ignorance, blindness? Good lords. I don't even know how to describe what that was...  Ludicrous? Delusional? Complete arrogance sugar-coated with a heavy dusting of complete and utter bullshit?

I must admit--it made me laugh manically out loud, cry, shake my head, shake my fist and every day I have a new contemplated retort.  I can't imagine what it is like to live in his world.  If that is his perception of reality, I think perhaps I need to start speaking to the brothers about local dementia facilities.

I only shared bits of the email with three people. My boyfriend (can't get used to that fiance word), whom believes that I am best off with no response and continue with keeping him banned from my life.  My youngest brother, whom thinks that sharing my perception of the situation is a good idea (he wants reconciliation and I cannot say that I agree). And my cousin, whom was able to make me laugh about the response.

All I know is, I did receive one valuable piece of wisdom from my father over the years: "Never get into a pissing fight with a skunk. You can't win and you wind up smelling just as bad..."

Anne Lamott Gem

"You own everything that happened to you. 

Tell your stories. 

If people wanted you to write warmly about them,

they should've behaved better."

*Note to self: Purchase her book Bird by Bird (a book on writing that is full of similar wisdom).

*Note--6/20/12--Oddly enough, this book was given to me today by the same friend that suggested it. Quite excited to begin the journey!

Just a Thought

He is now claiming that he WAS supporting me during the PFA hearing and that thanks to his actions during that time, I am still alive today. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE EFF HE HAS BEEN SMOKING, but wow! Arrogant and clueless--done, done, done. It was a page full of the most insane notions I have been privy to in a while. He denied everything that he did and turned it into how he is super awesome dad. And HAHAHAHA!!!! "I am willing to make amends but you would have to meet me half way with it and realize I am not and never have been your enemy." WHATEVER! A simple "I was wrong. I am sorry." would have worked. It has been two years and he has the audacity to make the claims he did? Nope. Screw that. Better off without him.

Yet Again

How disappointing to close the door and know that it was our own fault for reopening it.  How disappointing to have allowed ourselves to have hope for the best; when we knew in our heart that we were being foolish. Yet we insist on gambling again, with a piece of our self so broken and tattered that we know it is not capable of withstanding the strain. Yet, for some reason, we proceed. Knowing as we do it, that it is our own spirit that we crush; that it is not going to be capable of withstanding this additional blow. Still, we open the door to them, yet again...

Sometimes it is so heartbreaking to accept these things and to have the faith that it is because there is another path getting ready to unfold before us. It is so hard to remember that we are removing toxicity from our life so that light may shine through.  It is even more difficult when you feel alone in the heartbreak. It may be one of the most painful experiences possible to know that forgiving them is not an option. How painful to discover that while you ache to have some semblance of a relationship--the healthiest choice is to bar them forever and never look back...

And how many times have I tried? How many times until I can leave the door closed and not look back?

Still Shattered Shards

And sometimes we realize that we were right. That there can be no turning back, no welcoming them into our lives again, no returning to past days. Sometimes when a relationship is broken, it is for the best. We must not only leave the shattered pieces strewn about for fear of further damage, but close our eyes as we tiptoe through the remaining shards. Sometimes the heartbreak is so great that our only remaining choice is to become numb to further pain...

Does It Ever Stop?

I have been on Cloud Nine since the proposal on 5/23/12.  To find out that the one I love and wish to spend the rest of my life with feels the same is perhaps one of the most amazing of human experiences.  It has been a whirlwind of amazement and bliss to know that he wants me as a forever part of his life.

Tonight, though, a set back in my sanity and an increase in my post-traumatic stress issues...

I received an odd message from one of my PFA-ex's neighbors.  She mentioned being fearful due to threats he had made against her and sought me out wanting to know if I thought there was due concern.  She went into some detail about what had happened (and is happening) plus enlightened me into other events.

She mentioned that she was trying to get some insight on him and how stable he is... that she recently had an incident with him that "was soooo out of left field, we didn't see it coming."  She stated that he got real defensive with her regarding some issues and threatened her via text stating "You don't want to make an enemy of me."  Odd, since he has always been good friends with this woman and her husband.  Apparently, after that, he called her cell and she didn't answer his call because "I'd had enough of his strange behavior" and he left a "rambling message" about how much he loved her and her husband.  Later that night, he also called her husband and told him that he did call the dog catcher (which he had earlier denied) on them and that he could call the state police on them, too.

I asked her if he was drinking a lot and her response was: "I'm thinking it's more than drinking."  This was followed by: "He's acting very strange and scary.  His behavior has been going from bad to worse and he's been exhibiting some mentally unstable behavior lately.  He seems to have strange sleeping habits and makes veiled threats.  I think he's a night-time stalking kind of person."  She explained that her husband thought of him as a friend and a neighbor until the recent events happened and that "he was upset that a friend would do what he did and it was such a strange thing; that it was hard to understand."

I mentioned that it might be to her benefit to start keeping track of text messages, threats, odd interactions--keeping a record of the date and time and such. I mentioned that I wouldn't be surprised if she discovered that she needed it at some point. She followed with: "Oh, I plan to keep records. I still have the voice message he left me; he sounds like a crazy person. I'm pretty sure I won't have any trouble with him because I made it very clear to him that I don't play games and I don't put up with shit either. But he knows our schedule. Our house was broken into one time and the police said it was someone who knew us very well. They always thought it was someone from the neighborhood. Now I wonder if he had anything to do with it. Truthfully, I'm afraid of him poisoning my dogs or messing with my cars or something.  He made a point of driving by the other day, waving like a maniac--strange man."

She added that: "He gets wasted and at 2 or 3 in the morning, he gets his guns out and starts shooting.  That's very unstable.  When I first moved here, he said that the woman that lived here before had a bunch of cats and that he shot them.  I think he abuses this dog he has now; it's always afraid.  Someone like him should not have animals." 

She also mentioned that recently he was arrested for assault on a new girl he was dating.  She said that "he beat the hell out of this girl from Kersey who had him arrested.  She got a PFA, then she ended up going back with him and then he beat her up again.  I'm not really sure about that other PFA. I think she voided it because she wouldn't stay away from him, so they didn't take it very seriously.  But he did get arrested for assault and that hasn't come to court yet.  Some of the guys from Kersey were gunning for him."

She added that his brother also just got a PFA against him by his wife and that it "must run in the family."  She explained, "His wife got a PFA for her and the kids against him. Since then, she's moved and his brother is back in their house.  Both those boys have a temper--his brother seems more mainstream, maybe because of his job."

Great. Sounds like nothing has changed in his life.  Same lovely gentleman that I knew.  I guess none of it comes as a surprise.  Over the course of our relationship, he admitted to hitting past girlfriends, harassing past girlfriends and other unsavory acts against women.  It is too bad that some of the past sexual charges were in his youth and are now sealed records. It just seems to me by now, with DUIs, PFAs, assaults and such, that something could be done about him.  But I guess it isn't much different than the man that eventually took my mom's life--there were records a plenty--but until you actually murder someone, you are free to do as you please.

And why am I concerned? Obviously, I do have fear for his neighbor.  She is correct in her assessment that he is not stable.  I also feel bad for the women that have fallen in to his trap since me. Perhaps the details of my PFA against him should be enforced in a similar manner as they do for child offenders and sexual predators?  But I know him, I know his sob story and he could still sweet talk nearly any woman into just believing that I was an evil ex that broke his heart and then tried to make his life hell for my own personal amusement.  I know him. I know the lies and games.

One of the main reasons that I secured the PFA was not only due to the trauma he was creating for me, but also due to a burning concern... As crazy as he was being with the break-up, what on Earth would happen when I began dating again?  The PFA was put in place as much for my protection as for the men that would later enter my life. I knew that would NOT go over well.  I really thought that the PFA would make him move on. That's all I wanted. For him to go his way--never cross my path--and allow me my freedom. I wanted him to find his own happiness--far, far, far away from me and leave me alone.  And now over two years later, I am also thrown this bit of his neighbor's message:

"Well be forewarned that he's still obsessed with you.  He talks about you all the time.  'You were and are his one true love.'  Was he also stalking you? I got the impression that he was keeping a very close eye on you after you broke ties with him.  I think now I understand why that woman that had his kid fled the state with the child and why his daughter rarely visits.  Well, I look for you to have some problems with him when your PFA runs out, if he doesn't get over his fixation with you.  I'm not sure why he talks so much about you.  My opinion was that he thought that you thought you were too good for him. Or he felt he wasn't good enough for you.  Well, just be careful when your PFA is over. If I hear or see anything I think you should know, I'll let you know. In the meantime, he's not welcome here anymore. I told my husband that if he wants to patch things up with him and he wants to let him go to the camp, that's one thing but he's not welcome at my home or in my yard."

Super. Fucking super. And how shall it be if he hears that I am engaged?  Clearly, the deep end is already where he is hanging--that he is turning on his friends and neighbors--beating up women on a semi-regular basis?  He already has DUIs, a three-year PFA against him, a potential assault case in the works and he is steadily drinking and most likely back into the other substances.  When some people hit rock bottom, they decide to take others out with them.  Maybe I am worried about nothing. Maybe it is just my post-traumatic stress issues.  Maybe it is the fact that I have "run into him" three times recently--twice in the past few weeks.  Each time, I was there first--by law, he must leave.  Because he did not cause me problems, I haven't made an issue of it.  I don't like being the bad guy.

She asked me: "So do you think he is dangerous or just a bully?"

I wouldn't have a 3 year PFA if there wasn't an issue.  I am not that kind of person. I lived with a guy for six years that beat the hell out of me on a regular basis and we are still friends. Her neighbor is the only one that I have ever had such serious issues with upon trying to leave. I didn't want to get a PFA--but I didn't have a choice.  But how much good is my current PFA if he does go completely bonkers?  I am fighting the urge to just pack up and flee.  But I don't want to let him control my life like that anymore.  I have been struggling greatly with the PTS after the recent encounters (and now I also wonder how random they actually were)--this bit of news does not settle well, I must confess.

A Different Beginning

Tonight, he proposed.  I didn't see it coming and am still wandering through the surreal haze of wondering... Wondering so many things. I have had others propose and could never see a future that led to happiness.  Not to mention, the entire concept of marriage has always frightened me more than a little.  I am not sure that I believe in divorce--thereforth, I could not believe in marriage.

Tonight, I said yes and knew in my heart that it is what I want, too.  There was none of the stomach turmoil that has resulted with past proposals; none of the fear that it was a trap; none of the silent screaming that they knew I was ready to run and they were trying to regain control.

Tonight felt right.  The one I can't imagine living without. The one I can't imagine being gone from my life. The one that compliments who I am without trying to shape me into someone else, someone that I can never be. The one that I feel safe with. The one that listens.  The one that allows me to be me and even suggests that she may not be the terrible person everyone else has tried to convince her she was.

Do I think it will be all sunshine and roses? Do I think everything will be easy? I am, and always have been, a realist.  I would not have waited so long if I believed otherwise. Truly, what relationship isn't work? Be it with a friend, a co-worker, a lover--all relationships have their struggles.  I am not so naive to believe that marriage would make things easier. But it is nice to know that my level of commitment is returned.  It is nice to know that he sees in me, the same potential that I see within him.

Would I make a good wife? I don't know. I have never tried that role. I have played house a few times, but my other playmates were never very much fun. This one has been different.  I savor my freedom, my solitude. In the year that we have shared a home, I have discovered that I can be comfortable sharing my space with another human. I truly cannot imagine a home without him in it. And I guess these are the reasons that I suspect it actually could work...

Scar Tissue

When I began my relationship with my ex, the one that I would eventually have a PFA against, I ignored all of the warning signs. It had been six years since I had dated or had any type of relationship. He was someone that I had a crush on in junior high, but I wasn't the type of girl he ever would have glanced twice at. In fact, he dated many of my friends, but had no recollection of ever having met me. I was beneath him. I wasn't pretty. I was shy, awkward, a virgin, an A student, wore hand-me-downs, had acne--not the pretty, glam girl type he generally went for.

So when I bumped into him twenty years later and he was interested, it was almost impossible to say no. He was the type of guy that had I run into in a bar, I would have completely ignored. He was drunk, obnoxious, and already giving ultimatums upon this initial meeting--while attempting to get my phone number. Yet, the junior high me that was always so far beneath the "hot guys," screamed that my chance had finally come. And besides, six years is a very long time--where was the harm in appeasing my urges?

One date led to another, we actually seemed to have a lot in common and I found many of his qualities amusing. He was blunt, but it seemed refreshing. He seemed to be beyond the games that are normally played when pursuing a partner--on our first date, he stated: "If it weren't for sex, I wouldn't bother with relationships." Well, yeah, lots of truth there, but how many people actually come out and say it? Maybe I should have saw it as a red flag. Truth is, I agreed.

We shared a lot of interests--a simple life, travel, antiques, imagination, dreams, the outdoors (camping, kayaking, hiking, any activities involving water). The image we saw for our future meshed better than anyone else I had ever been with. I loved how random he was and that on any given day, adventure may ensue. I grew to love his family and craved the ties and bonds that they shared.

I saw much of myself in him--we both had poor relationships with our fathers, broken due to not being capable of amounting to anything in their eyes--dysfunctional mothers that were often not capable of providing for their children due to their own mental health issues and eventually abandoned by them in favor of a man--siblings that were best friends because growing up, they were the only people capable of being counted on. Perhaps our backgrounds were too similar. At the time, it was nice to have someone that understood the dysfunction--someone that had lived through similar issues and understood the pains. I had lost my mother. He had lost his father. It seemed right when we found each other. We were two broken souls attempting to create one that worked.

I see the folly in all of that now. But at the time, I was sure that I had found the one that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I have never been married. I have never had children. I was always waiting for the right person. I was sure that it was him. He was the first one I could actually see that future with. But oh, the red flags that I ignored. The red flags that eventually became flares which later became flames which burnt.

Our relationship lasted two years. I made it six years with the one that physically abused me. Two years of emotional abuse was much harder to deal with. Bruises heal. Words remain forever. It wasn't easy to give up on either relationship, but self-preservation kicked in with each of them. It didn't make leaving easy in either case. I truly loved them both, but there is a limit to what love can tolerate--especially when their idea of love equals pain. Not to mention the part of you that desperately wants to believe them when they say that they will quit drinking; the part that desperately wants to believe them when they say that they can change.

Perhaps what was hardest for me when leaving the last one, was the shattered dreams. I saw a future there. I saw myself capable of growing old with him, yet never growing bored. It was like living with Peter Pan and having never-ending adventure. Even more difficult, I saw that future that is expected of each of us: marriage, children--a future I always denied wanting but secretly craved. True, Peter Pan isn't marriage material, but I was able to imagine it. While I loved past partners, I always knew in the back of my mind that marriage/children couldn't work with them for one reason or another. I saw it with him.

He already had a child early in life and became a grandfather shortly after we began dating. He claimed he didn't want any more children and I decided to have elective sterilization. This contributed to the issues I was facing with depression and I regretted the decision before I even had the surgery. After I had it done, he told me that he would be willing to have a child with me and told me to get the procedure reversed. By that point, I didn't know what to do.

He brought up marriage on the occasions when I was ready to leave the relationship. I recognize now the blessing in that. I never truly saw it as sincere due to feeling it was simply manipulative tactics that must have worked with his ex-girlfriends. It wasn't until he was sure that I wasn't coming back that he began talking about how we were "soulmates," that we were "meant to be with each other," and that he was looking forward to making me his wife. By that point, there was no hope of reunion. Too much damage had already been done.

So another piece falls into the puzzle--April 2010 also marked the two year anniversary of a choice I have since regretted. In addition to the other events that were occurring in my life, I was feeling the regret and angst of never being able to bear children. There were so many things that I lost. My ability to bear children. The potential to ever hold my own child in my arms, to create a family. I lost his family, my friends. My family, even the ones I thought would always be there for me. The dream/illusion of a future together. My feelings of safety/my belief that I had personal rights.

I know that to live in the past is to have no future. But I also know that burying pains and wounds allows them to reemerge down the line. It is no different than a wound that becomes infected--you have to clean out the infection and the damaged flesh in order for healing and new flesh to grow. You still have a scar either way. But in order to truly heal, the infection has to first be removed. Plus there is the old adage, those that cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. I, for one, do not wish to repeat any such events, relationships, or situations. I prefer to move forward with both eyes open and a heart still capable of growing. To do this, making sense of and understanding the past, my choices, and how they fit together are part of my healing. Forgive my scars; they do run deep.