Truth

Interestingly enough, my brother reported that during his visit to our father's home, last weekend, he was beginning to see the insanity that I have been noting since 2010 and beyond.  His first sign that something wasn't quite right was due to there being some sort of "cage" around the front porch.  Apparently, this is to protect my father and his wife from the rampant Pit Bulls that live throughout their neighborhood.  Next, he discovered mock surveillance cameras on the kitchen table which are soon to be placed around the outer perimeters of the yard and driveway.  This is due to neighbors that are on the verge of a killing spree and have troubled teenage youth that will be the next school shooters.  This was also the reason that he was told that if he wasn't in the home by the 11 pm lock-down; he needed to sleep in his vehicle or find another place to stay.  Finally, my brother was accused of verbally attacking our stepmother as a result of a conversation regarding prejudicial attitudes (our father was there to witness the entire event--hopefully this opened his eyes, as well--although, I sincerely doubt it). 

 

They say that the truth always eventually emerges with no need for action by the individual hurt by the lies.  I am happy to report that this is finally starting to happen...

Triggers

Sometimes I have no clue what triggers the thoughts.

Tonight, it was memories of the phone call from the police wanting to know if she had any identifying marks on her body.  Since he shot her in the face and neck--there was nothing left to identify her by in regards to dental records or by traditional methods.

They finally identified her by a tattoo on her back.  She had a small Pisces symbol that she had me tattoo on her as a surprise for him. I never would have guessed that less than a year later, it would be the only way to know who she was.

Searching for the "RESET" Button

Today, officially marks three years since my Protection From Abuse (PFA) was granted.  As of today, he is free to come near me; to communicate with me; to show up at my door without repercussions.  I think that it has been long enough that he will continue to stay away.  I don't hate him. I never did.  I don't wish him ill. I never did.  I tried to part as friends.  None of this was my choice. Funny, could I go back and change things--I wouldn't erase him from my life. I would still have that two years as they were.  I learned a lot about trust from the experience.  I discovered many individuals in my life that were never the friends that I thought them to be, but discovered many false individuals that were taking advantage of my generosity and love.  I am better off having  them gone. 

 

I really can only think of one time in my life that I wish I could go back and do things differently.  Surprisingly, it isn't the things that you may think...

 

Maybe I would go back and warn my mom that Rickey was going to kill her and she would still be here?  Not a possibility. I did try.  I went to California.  I gave her ample opportunity to come home, escape, start over.  Her response? "I don't want your dad and his family to think I was a failure. I don't want them to think that I can't make a marriage work."  Our last conversation took place in the park--it was just the two of us.  I asked her what she wanted done with her body after he killed her.  She didn't argue the point.  She simply stated that she wanted cremated and to have her ashes spread upon the ocean, as her mother before her.  She knew.  We both knew. So, I may check this off the list.

 

Maybe I would have escaped the six year relationship full of abuse?  I did meet many awesome guys during that time that had I been single, I would have pursued.  Maybe I would have ended up with one of them.  Maybe I would be married, have had children and maybe even be a grandmother now. Who knows?  But no, there are many good memories from that time in my life, as well.  Plus, I gained many wonderful people in his family that I still love. I wouldn't change that.

 

The two year relationship--later to be my PFA man?  No, I wouldn't change that.  I would not appreciate my current relationship, to the extent that I do, without having gone through that Hell.  And what I have now is pretty darned good.  To take it for granted would not be fair to either of us.  The hard times (which generally are not his doing, but are outside forces--his mother, his ex, the children, etc) make me want to run sometimes; but I am able to see how amazing he is despite the baggage.  Had I not had my two years of misery, I don't know that I would be willing to keep trying when I get frustrated.  Running has always been the easiest answer for me.

 

On our way back from dropping off the kids, he mentioned wishing life had a reset button.  That has been a topic with many of my friends over the past week and honestly, it has been on my mind more than it should be.  "If only I knew then, what I know now."  As humans, we are great at looking back and thinking, "if only I had done this differently."  I have always said that I wouldn't change anything--those experiences made me who I am today.  True, true.  But what if?

 

Were I permitted one time in my life that I could go back and change paths...

 

I have to confess that I am angry with my soft-side. I am angry that even after those events that happened three years ago, today--I was still soft.  I was still worried about my actions hurting others.  Namely, my father.  I worried what a lawsuit would do to his career.  His career is truly all he has ever had.  Sure he's remarried, but well, she has shown her true colors more than once. And I am quite certain she dances with glee knowing that he has pushed his children out of his life and he has successfully alienated himself from his family.  Well, good for her.  At one time, I loved her very much as a friend; many times, truth be told.  However, she was another one of those false people that I wasted time, love and energy upon.

 

If I could go back, a lawsuit would have occurred.  I would have filed a civil lawsuit against the Meadows and both of the women involved for gross negligence.  I would have sued the two police officers that refused to show me identification when requested; that refused to tell me why they were handcuffing me and taking me off of my property; that decided two men using brute force against a 115 pound woman was acceptable.  I would have sued my father for lying on a 302 form, for defamation, for libel, and for harassment.  I would have sued the therapist we (PFA guy and myself) were working with for sending me back into a dangerous situation, when I begged him to help me.  The hospital.  My family doctor.  The list goes on and on.  So many people were negligent on April 22, 2010.   

 

The system failed and I allowed it.  By not pushing forward with a lawsuit, I allow these mistakes to occur again--maybe not to me, but they can still happen to others.  My concern for a man never invested in my well-being was my downfall.  Could I go back two years ago and file that lawsuit, I most certainly would.  Statutes of limitations ran out at the two year mark.  Unfortunately, the many things that occurred that day knocked me down to a point in which I am still struggling to find my feet.  I am not sure how they can expect someone that experienced what I did to have the strength to move forward within that two year mark.  Three years later and my scars have not yet completely closed.  I don't think that they will ever truly heal over.  I suppose when I examine it in that light, a reset button wouldn't help me anyhow.  Going back two or even one year still places me in the danger range--danger of being destroyed emotionally by the events.  I would run that risk even now...

 

Responses...

These are responses in regards to the post immediately below:

 

"I can't imagine any amount of time that could pass that I would not still cry about my mother. Any one who can't understand that has no idea what love is. A mother is not just a mother but a friend, a mentor and so many more things! It's almost like you lose your compass in life. No one can ever replace her and no one can ever love or understand you like your mom. So cry away and let it out. It's horrible and awful and just get it out and be strong again."

 

"I feel guilty every time I cry, though. For the past three years, I feel like the Tear Police are going to come arrest me for missing her. It's so hard because the more I try to bury my pain, the more it emerges in Hulk Outs and I think that is more of an issue...."

 

"Repressing is always a bad idea. I do it sometimes, too; it always ends in an explosive fight or something not good. I just cry and damn whoever doesn't understand. Only another motherless daughter I think can really understand."

 

"I have been so irritable this past week and I know it is because I can't always hold myself together and am not sure about this lunacy that makes me think that I should have to. I know my dad isn't in my life now and that he should never have had the authority to pull such a stunt--I had a beautiful lawsuit on my hands there--the police, crisis, the hospital--so many people messed up on that one--just because he wears a uniform--I could have had my own island from all the lawsuits that could have occurred.  But who sues their father, whether he is a liar and misuses his power or not???"

 

And also, shortly after, a friend shared this:

 

"So I guess showing my dad my MEMORIAL tattoo for my mom was not the right thing to do and obviously it's a sin to still be very emotional about her not being here anymore. :'( "

 

"Grief is a very sacred part of healing and how you choose to pay tribute to your mother is YOUR business. I think you did her a great honor and losing a mother leaves a scar deeper than any tattoo can ever show. Maybe he is the one out-of-touch with his emotions??? I would be lost without the other motherless daughters in my life. It is such a difficult journey--even with support from others travelling that same road...  It's about overwhelming grief, pain and an empty spot no other person can ever fill. I don't know any motherless daughter that would ever say otherwise. It's a wound years can't heal. It encompasses one's life in all areas and always does. Mine has been gone twenty years and I know I will NEVER again be the same person that I was before she died. Being motherless is the one single event that defines who I am now."

 

 

And in other news, a great triumph today! President Obama signs Violence Against Women Act 

 

Great news on the heels of the 20th anniversary of my mother being murdered by her second husband and great news as I approach the anniversary/ending of my own three-year PFA and the consequences (AKA as my father and the Great Police Fiasco of 2010) that resulted...

"Hiding Tears Leads to Deeper Damages"

Mama, You've Been On My Mind--Bob Dylan

I have such trouble with my tears. Three years ago, my father tried to use the fact that my mother's 60th birthday brought sorrow as a manipulation tool to have me committed to a state hospital for the rest of my life.  He brought police into it and had them come to my house, handcuff me and I was escorted into an ER, handcuffed, to be evaluated by my peers (I am a therapist, also). While there were other factors he tried to play into this (he also said that I was Wiccan, practiced witchcraft and believed in God), the overwhelming reason he gave for attempting to have me committed was because I still cry that she is gone. Before you try to justify his actions and say he was concerned about me and had my best interests in mind, I might mention that his actions were related to my attempts to obtain a PFA (Protection From Abuse) against an ex-boyfriend that he liked. Since the judge granted me a 3-year PFA (six months is hard to even get), earlier the same day, my father's actions had nothing to do with concern for me. At any rate, I have cried a bit this week with her birthday, yesterday (January also marked the 20-year anniversary of her murder) and it still terrifies me when I cry because it seems an acceptable reason/excuse for harassment...

Book One

WARNING!!! Spoiler and domestic violence trigger alerts:

"All the warning signs were there, I was just too clueless and too enamored to notice." 

"I go to follow, but Christian clutches my elbow, bringing me to an abrupt halt. 'When were you going to tell me you were leaving?' he asks urgently.  His tone is soft, but he's masking his anger. 'I'm not leaving, I'm going to see my mother, and I was only thinking about it.'  'What about our arrangement?'  'We don't have an arrangement yet.'  He narrows his eyes, and then seems to remember himself.  Releasing my hand, he takes my elbow and leads me out of the room. 'This conversation is not over,' he whispers threateningly as we enter the dining room."

 

"His tone is quiet and deadly."

 

"...for my pleasure, not yours.'..."'This is mine,' he whispers aggressively. 'All mine.  Do you understand?'"

 

"I shrug, trapped.  I don't want to lose him. In spite of all his demands, his need to control, his scary vices, I have never felt as alive as I do now.  It's a thrill to be sitting here beside him. He's so unpredictable, sexy, smart, and funny.  But his moods... oh--and he wants to hurt me.  He says he'll think about my reservations, but it still scares me. I close my eyes. What can I say? Deep down I would just like more, more affection, more playful Christian, more...love."

 

"This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero, a brave shining white night--or the dark night, as he said.  He's not a hero; he's a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he's dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light?"

 

"I become aware that once again the only empty seat is beside me.  I shake my head as the thought crosses my mind that Christian might have purchased the adjacent seat so that I couldn't talk to anyone.  I dismiss the idea as ridiculous--no one could be that controlling, that jealous, surely."

 

"Inside my subconscious relaxes and then collapses, slumped into an old battered armchair. 'Were you nervous about asking me?' 'Yes. How can you tell?' 'Anastasia, your whole body's just relaxed,' he says dryly. 'Well, you seem to be, um... on the jealous side.'  'Yes, I am,' he says darkly. 'And you'd do well to remember that...'"

Makes a great "love story" doesn't it?  Yeah, I have lived this story several times. How and why women find this not only acceptable, but ROMANTIC???  A wonderful story that they fantasize about?  Good lords, I can send you in the direction of a few men that will beat the hell out of you, tell you the next day that they love you, that it will never happen again--just forgive them, accept these material gifts, while they make meaningless promises.  Live your life in fear, hide your bruises, lie to your friends and family, hide your shame, destroy your self-worth.

In an era where we strive to teach women to be independent, to not feel as though they need to rely on a man--screwed.  In a world where we have strived to teach people that they can not change their partners, that showing love to an abusive partner isn't going to fix them--screwed.  In a world where we have forgotten how to listen to our instincts but instead look at the outer package and take things at face value--screwed.  So yeah, I guess maybe I did feel as though there was a good screwing that came with these books--maybe not the type that the author meant to inspire.

To sum the books up as whole: jealous stalker type wants girl.  Girl isn't into his life style but wants a romantic, dream guy to come along, marry her and bear children with her.  Jealous stalker guy is hot and has money, so she goes for it despite knowing that it is a bad idea.  Jealous stalker guy learns to not only give up what turns him on but develops an interest in "vanilla sex" with an inexperienced virgin to please her.  (Yes, hello!  This is why working with sex offenders is SO SUCCESSFUL--because you can completely change what turns you on and what you are attracted to.  Tomorrow, I think I shall convince my partner that he is attracted to trees just to test this theory.  I bet that is possible, too).  The exes that he has had, that were into his lifestyle and would normally remain competition because they were capable of meeting his sexual needs (that you have barely tapped into, let alone soothed the itch)?  They are no longer issues because they are either crazy or evil--so they will just conveniently disappear.  This will also remove any attachment his family may have had to them, further paving your way.  Eventually he will not only marry you, but he will also be your baby daddy and will love filling both roles.  You won.  He has changed from the potential abuser to a rich, handsome, prince charming--yay!!! The End.  Happily ever after.  Yadda, yadda, yadda.

But the sex is good?  Still not worth it... 

And as a side note here, I was referring to the sex with the abusive men that I have had in my own personal life.  Yes, I sometimes stayed longer than I should have because the sex was indeed good (well, in the six-year relationship, at least).  The sex scenes in these books?  Yeah, I'll take a Clive Barker or Tom Robbins sex scene any day.  Out of all three books?  One scene that almost made it for me.  Again, I emphasize ALMOST.

Disclaimer:

I know I have mentioned it before, but it felt like that time again...

 

I do not post these blogs for sympathy, pity, vengeance, or any such reason. I post them because journaling has always been a significant coping skill for me.  When I lie in bed at night, trampled by emotions; when I am having a breakdown with breakfast; when my head is spinning in ten thousand different directions; when the internal tornado connects with the internal volcano--writing has always been my purge of choice.  Art, cleaning, kayaking, hiking, reading and other coping skills are also visited frequently; however, writing is the one that helps the demons at bay for the longest...

 

I get it. It is a journal. Why do I have it on public display? Why do I share stories that aren't always complimentary to the people in my life? It's my story.  I am not saying that just because this is how I am sharing it, that all parties involved see it as I do.  I'm sure many individuals would argue up a storm were they to read many parts of this blog.  That's fine.  Still, this is my view. It is my perspective. It is how it is/was seen through my eyes.  I am only noting the truth through my eyes.

 

There is an old blues song: "There are three sides to every story. Mine. Yours. And the truth."

 

This blog is no different and I am well aware of that.  I share it because I know I am not alone.  I share it because maybe somewhere within this is something helpful to another.  Maybe someone else is having similar difficulties or has felt as I do. I know I am not unique.  But I know how it feels to be alone and suffering.  I know how it feels when the people around you don't understand.  I know how it feels when someone dismisses my pain and tells me to "buck up" or "get over it" or when I hear "she must like the abuse or she wouldn't stay." 

 

This blog is to help others understand how it feels to be in these shoes.  This blog is to help me continue to pick myself up by the bootlaces and move forward. My journey. My healing. My method. If it helps someone along the way, better yet.  If it pisses others off along the way, so be it.  It certainly isn't my intention to upset people with what I choose to share; however, I am realistic enough to recognize the potential contained within.

 

"You own everything that happened to you.

Tell your stories.

If people wanted you to write warmly about them,

they should've behaved better."
~Anne Lamott~