At one point in this last year, my lawyer told me “You’re going to have to realize that this is something you’re always going to have to live with.” This was her response to my pointing out her incompetence which was wasting my time as I wait for my divorce. My pushing her had nothing to do with psychology and everything to do with getting his name off the title of the house so I could refinance and hopefully not lose my home. Hmmm….still hasn’t happened yet.
This last year has been one long experience in perpetually slipping on the ice and trying to find my feet.
It comes down to the fact of finding “the new normal”.
The “new normal” is the daily struggle of not thinking about what happened right off the bat in the morning. I’m not asking to be oblivious; I’m not asking to forget. I’m just asking my brain to let me get to at least ten am before I feel the weight of it all.
The “new normal” involves watching every single parent-child interaction in public with suspicion.
The “new normal” involves walking through my neighborhood and thinking about all the awful things that are probably going on behind all those closed doors.
The “new normal” involves not speaking his name. A name gives a person power. That is what I have learned over the past year. That is why he has fought our name change so vehemently. Even as a convicted pedophile, he thought he still had power over us by denying our name change. By forcing the kids to keep his name, he was exercising his power over them, even after doing everything, by his choices, to destroy them. One day, when our name change actually happens, we will exercise our power, the power to say “no”. In the mean time, he will remain nameless.
This has caused some interesting verbal exchanges: sentences are left hanging, the air thick with pain and discomfort. “Well, we did it that way because your f…….well, we did it differently back then…we’re going to do it this way now…” It’s a dance. A dance around the center which is filled with so much darkness.
The “new normal” involves scribbling my still legal last name illegibly every time I am forced to write it. It involves repeating it in quiet tones when forced to say it.
The “new normal” involves seeing the humor in my kids as they combine their last names to be “Sharkness”. It’s the one gray area that I can appreciate.
The “new normal” involves seeing a lot of empty cupboard space. Mother Hubbard had nothing on us. I think I could develop a career on the food network sort of like Rachel Ray except my tag line will be “how to pull dinner for two out of your ass when you only have three food-like ingredients in the house.”
The “new normal” means that when I am feeling unsure if I am up to a certain task, I look back on the last year and say to myself “If I could make it through that, I can do anything.”
The "new normal" is at times terrifying, heart wrenching, and wonderful.
Showing posts with label pedophilia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pedophilia. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Not A Tiny Little Division Of Hallmark
Taa Daa.
It's 3 a.m and I'm up to my old tricks: waking up at the butt crack of dawn in mid rant with the bed covers wrapped around me like a straight jacket.
Reconciliation indeed...
The person that I was ten months and four days ago is dead. Dead and gone.
No more door mat, no more excuses, no more patience, no more swallowing the day in and day out pain of being married to a fucking loser.
The most hilarious thing is (and believe me, when you wake up at 3 a.m, breaking into random hysterical laughter is a distinct possibility), even if he had just been unfaithful and I had kicked him out of the house and there hadn't been any earth shattering awfulness, I STILL wouldn't take him back!
Dear Jesus Christ on Toast! Not only does he think that I could actually stand in front of him without sticking a shiv in his ribs, but he thinks that after wasting 17 years of my life with a person that made me feel like shit on a daily basis, I would be raising my hand and saying "Oh please sir, I'll have another!"
Check this little head trip out: If we got back together do you think he'd still ask me to call him "daddy" while we have sex? Seriously...SERIOUSLY?...I just want to vomit.
Hey! Let's make the perfect Hallmark Card for this occasion! It can be a whole new line of greeting cards for prisoners!
On the cover of the card, in gilded letters with a tacky late eighties pastel color scheme:
I'd just like to propose my own little love song for this occasion. It's the only thing that I have that even remotely expresses my feelings at this exact moment.
It's 3 a.m and I'm up to my old tricks: waking up at the butt crack of dawn in mid rant with the bed covers wrapped around me like a straight jacket.
Reconciliation indeed...
The person that I was ten months and four days ago is dead. Dead and gone.
No more door mat, no more excuses, no more patience, no more swallowing the day in and day out pain of being married to a fucking loser.
The most hilarious thing is (and believe me, when you wake up at 3 a.m, breaking into random hysterical laughter is a distinct possibility), even if he had just been unfaithful and I had kicked him out of the house and there hadn't been any earth shattering awfulness, I STILL wouldn't take him back!
Dear Jesus Christ on Toast! Not only does he think that I could actually stand in front of him without sticking a shiv in his ribs, but he thinks that after wasting 17 years of my life with a person that made me feel like shit on a daily basis, I would be raising my hand and saying "Oh please sir, I'll have another!"
Check this little head trip out: If we got back together do you think he'd still ask me to call him "daddy" while we have sex? Seriously...SERIOUSLY?...I just want to vomit.
Hey! Let's make the perfect Hallmark Card for this occasion! It can be a whole new line of greeting cards for prisoners!
On the cover of the card, in gilded letters with a tacky late eighties pastel color scheme:
As I sit here in my cell,
comparing ways to groom young girls for sex with my cell mate,
my mind harkens back to a far better time.
A time when I could eat all the junk food I wanted,
ignore my family,
and spend hours on end cyber-fucking my girlfriend.
I could do and say whatever I wanted
and there was never a threat of being gang raped
in the shower.
I could go to work and come home
and never lift a finger to help you with anything
and you were the perfect tool
and fitted the job with ease.
I miss you darling,
my perfect little door mat.
I miss wiping my feet on your back
on a daily basis.
Remember the good old days?
comparing ways to groom young girls for sex with my cell mate,
my mind harkens back to a far better time.
A time when I could eat all the junk food I wanted,
ignore my family,
and spend hours on end cyber-fucking my girlfriend.
I could do and say whatever I wanted
and there was never a threat of being gang raped
in the shower.
I could go to work and come home
and never lift a finger to help you with anything
and you were the perfect tool
and fitted the job with ease.
I miss you darling,
my perfect little door mat.
I miss wiping my feet on your back
on a daily basis.
Remember the good old days?
And on the inside of the card?
Wish I was there
Cuz I just realized
that in four and a half years,
I just might be homeless
Cuz I just realized
that in four and a half years,
I just might be homeless
I'd just like to propose my own little love song for this occasion. It's the only thing that I have that even remotely expresses my feelings at this exact moment.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Stand Back Ladies! This Winners Taken!
So, here is the phone call I received from my lawyer today.
Yes! I received an actual phone call from my lawyer! Legal communication from the wilds of whatever wilds lawyers communicate from...ouch. That sentence sort of ate it's own tail and now my brain hurts.
ANYWAY, the divorce papers have been signed and the actual document went to his lawyer to fix a couple of simple typos. Perhaps the typos were put in there on purpose because it gave them the final power in submitting the document to the courts.
See where I'm going with this? Bueller? Bueller?
The paperwork has not been submitted to the courts yet and my lawyer got a letter from his lawyer today. Guess what children??? He wants me to take him back!
Wait a minute now...let me put that in a way that will convey how I reacted...
HE WANTS ME TO TAKE HIM BACK!!!
No, wait a minute...that didn't cut it either...
THE $*&$()!#$*&@&!!! Mother ^$*(#(@)!*#&!!!! WANTS ME TO TAKE HIM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously....that doesn't even convey my emotion properly...
Yes, the reason why I'm still waiting for my divorce from a cheating pedophile while clinging on to my house by the skin of my teeth is that he has now apparently found Jesus and wants to reconcile with me.
My lawyer said she wasn't sure if I would burst out laughing or start screaming when she read the letter.
So now, I get to wait for the legal response to get back to his lawyer that not only am I not interested in reconciling, my expectations of him, after his 10 years of court appointed "Stay the hell away from us" will be that he never tries to contact any of us. WE WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM SO JUST LEAVE US ALONE.
I can promise with 100% certainty that he is working through his frickin' 12 steps because guess what? I read that book too! I know exactly what you're trying to do. You're doing it because you still have no fucking idea that what you have done is so incredibly awful that you just need to go away. That's why you're in prison. Prison is for people who have done awful things.
I literally drove home from work, primal screaming "FUCK YOU" until I think the windows in the car were ready to shatter.
There have been four things in my last ten months that have absolutely rocked my world:
1) My husband was cheating on me
2) My husband was a pedophile
3) My husband showed up in court and sat next to the child he molested and said she had to keep his name
4) My husband thinks that I would even, for one single solitary nanosecond, consider his proposition.
The killer of it all is that my response will once again allow him to play the victim. "Oh poor baby, he just wants to make it all better and that big bad woman is making his life sooooo hard!" I'm sure that it will be the topic of much boo-hooing in his therapy sessions.
My concept of forgiveness still stands. I drop my shit, you drop your shit and we both walk in opposite directions.
At this exact moment in time, he is lucky to be right where he is, surrounded by pedos and murderers and psychopaths because he's a hell of a lot safer than if he was free.
As I stated before when I read the book about sexual addiction, it was totally wrapped around the perpetrator and had a scant two sentences regarding victims. I do, however, recall in the 12 steps that reconciliation should only happen if it wouldn't emotionally damage the people that have been hurt, even more.
Guess what that means?
It means that he doesn't think he's done enough damage.
Yes! I received an actual phone call from my lawyer! Legal communication from the wilds of whatever wilds lawyers communicate from...ouch. That sentence sort of ate it's own tail and now my brain hurts.
ANYWAY, the divorce papers have been signed and the actual document went to his lawyer to fix a couple of simple typos. Perhaps the typos were put in there on purpose because it gave them the final power in submitting the document to the courts.
See where I'm going with this? Bueller? Bueller?
The paperwork has not been submitted to the courts yet and my lawyer got a letter from his lawyer today. Guess what children??? He wants me to take him back!
Wait a minute now...let me put that in a way that will convey how I reacted...
HE WANTS ME TO TAKE HIM BACK!!!
No, wait a minute...that didn't cut it either...
THE $*&$()!#$*&@&!!! Mother ^$*(#(@)!*#&!!!! WANTS ME TO TAKE HIM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!
Seriously....that doesn't even convey my emotion properly...
Yes, the reason why I'm still waiting for my divorce from a cheating pedophile while clinging on to my house by the skin of my teeth is that he has now apparently found Jesus and wants to reconcile with me.
My lawyer said she wasn't sure if I would burst out laughing or start screaming when she read the letter.
So now, I get to wait for the legal response to get back to his lawyer that not only am I not interested in reconciling, my expectations of him, after his 10 years of court appointed "Stay the hell away from us" will be that he never tries to contact any of us. WE WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM SO JUST LEAVE US ALONE.
I can promise with 100% certainty that he is working through his frickin' 12 steps because guess what? I read that book too! I know exactly what you're trying to do. You're doing it because you still have no fucking idea that what you have done is so incredibly awful that you just need to go away. That's why you're in prison. Prison is for people who have done awful things.
I literally drove home from work, primal screaming "FUCK YOU" until I think the windows in the car were ready to shatter.
There have been four things in my last ten months that have absolutely rocked my world:
1) My husband was cheating on me
2) My husband was a pedophile
3) My husband showed up in court and sat next to the child he molested and said she had to keep his name
4) My husband thinks that I would even, for one single solitary nanosecond, consider his proposition.
The killer of it all is that my response will once again allow him to play the victim. "Oh poor baby, he just wants to make it all better and that big bad woman is making his life sooooo hard!" I'm sure that it will be the topic of much boo-hooing in his therapy sessions.
My concept of forgiveness still stands. I drop my shit, you drop your shit and we both walk in opposite directions.
At this exact moment in time, he is lucky to be right where he is, surrounded by pedos and murderers and psychopaths because he's a hell of a lot safer than if he was free.
As I stated before when I read the book about sexual addiction, it was totally wrapped around the perpetrator and had a scant two sentences regarding victims. I do, however, recall in the 12 steps that reconciliation should only happen if it wouldn't emotionally damage the people that have been hurt, even more.
Guess what that means?
It means that he doesn't think he's done enough damage.
If You're Gonna Put Your Name On The Purchase Order...
(Text of the letter that I just got done sending to Debra.nordling@state.mn.us after discovering it was her name on the purchase order for all those 50 inch flat screen tv's at Moose Lake)
Dear Debra,
I know that you are probably not the person who made the actual decision to purchase the 50 inch tv sets for Moose Lake, but since your signature ended up on the purchase order, I am going to address this email to you.
Please feel free to forward it to any other person you feel might be interested in reading it.
My daughter's offender is currently housed at Moose Lake. This is also the person that I have been fighting to divorce for the past ten months.
I realize that in your world, the actual victim of the crime is not normally taken into consideration. In your world, it is all about the perpetrator and what they need. Allow me to enlighten you as to the other side of the equation.
I have no way to pay for the therapy that my daughter needs due to the post traumatic stress disorder that she suffers thanks to her father. The MN Dept of Corrections Victims Reparations Board was generous enough to pay for ten therapy sessions but since years of abuse can hardly be wrapped up with ten hours of therapy, she is now left out in the cold.
Our family has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy due to the fact that my "hopefully" soon to be ex-husband has fought against the desire of our children to change their last name to get a fresh start from the ugliness that he created. Some day, we will hopefully have a new last name and if we're lucky, we won't be homeless by that time.
I pay my bills. That is who I am and how I was raised. Every payday, I pay all my bills and usually don't have enough to fill my gas tank and feed my children. I have begun to visit the local food shelf.
This is where we are and this is who my daughter's perpetrator is fighting against.
As my children have commented on, after learning about the intelligent purchase for the MN Sex Offender's Program of 50 inch television screens, "Well, I guess we know just how important we are now."
Television is not therapy. Television will not make a darn bit of difference in whether or not any of the people in that facility ever have the ability to interact with society in a "normal" or "positive" manner.
The fact that the governor has removed the television sets is irrelevant. That money was poorly spent and is now gone forever.
I just wanted you to hear "the other" side of the story.
Sincerely,
Tina Shaddox
Soon to be ex-wife of Tracy Shaddox OID 229716
**Added later: This email was forwarded to the public relations person who has informed me that it will be forwarded to the Governor's Office.
Dear Debra,
I know that you are probably not the person who made the actual decision to purchase the 50 inch tv sets for Moose Lake, but since your signature ended up on the purchase order, I am going to address this email to you.
Please feel free to forward it to any other person you feel might be interested in reading it.
My daughter's offender is currently housed at Moose Lake. This is also the person that I have been fighting to divorce for the past ten months.
I realize that in your world, the actual victim of the crime is not normally taken into consideration. In your world, it is all about the perpetrator and what they need. Allow me to enlighten you as to the other side of the equation.
I have no way to pay for the therapy that my daughter needs due to the post traumatic stress disorder that she suffers thanks to her father. The MN Dept of Corrections Victims Reparations Board was generous enough to pay for ten therapy sessions but since years of abuse can hardly be wrapped up with ten hours of therapy, she is now left out in the cold.
Our family has been driven to the brink of bankruptcy due to the fact that my "hopefully" soon to be ex-husband has fought against the desire of our children to change their last name to get a fresh start from the ugliness that he created. Some day, we will hopefully have a new last name and if we're lucky, we won't be homeless by that time.
I pay my bills. That is who I am and how I was raised. Every payday, I pay all my bills and usually don't have enough to fill my gas tank and feed my children. I have begun to visit the local food shelf.
This is where we are and this is who my daughter's perpetrator is fighting against.
As my children have commented on, after learning about the intelligent purchase for the MN Sex Offender's Program of 50 inch television screens, "Well, I guess we know just how important we are now."
Television is not therapy. Television will not make a darn bit of difference in whether or not any of the people in that facility ever have the ability to interact with society in a "normal" or "positive" manner.
The fact that the governor has removed the television sets is irrelevant. That money was poorly spent and is now gone forever.
I just wanted you to hear "the other" side of the story.
Sincerely,
Tina Shaddox
Soon to be ex-wife of Tracy Shaddox OID 229716
**Added later: This email was forwarded to the public relations person who has informed me that it will be forwarded to the Governor's Office.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
No Soup For You
Dear Victims of Sex Offenses:
Do you have trouble sleeping? Do you suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Do you suffer from issues of self esteem? Have you ever tried to commit suicide? Have you ever taken chemicals to dull the pain?
Well, before you start feeling too sorry for yourselves, please remember the fine human beings that have caused these feelings within you. They suffer too. As a matter of fact, they won't be able to watch their favorite television shows on their brand new 50 inch flat screen tv's at the Pedo Summer Camp, which is my pleasant euphamism for the Moose Lake Correctional Facility where my daughter's offender and perhaps your offender is currently residing.
They are suffering folks. Please feel their pain.
What, you don't have a 50 inch flat screen tv? Why, you don't even have health insurance to cover the cost of the anxiety medications that you need to quiet the demons in your head? And that restitution that your offender is supposed to be making that currently doesn't exist? All of that pales in comparison to the suffering that these offenders must currently endure.
Personally, I'd like to see who had their signature on the purchase order for these tv's. Just curious.
And me, siding with ANYTHING Governor Pawlenty does? Yeah, I am TOTALLY uncomfortable with that...
Do you have trouble sleeping? Do you suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Do you suffer from issues of self esteem? Have you ever tried to commit suicide? Have you ever taken chemicals to dull the pain?
Well, before you start feeling too sorry for yourselves, please remember the fine human beings that have caused these feelings within you. They suffer too. As a matter of fact, they won't be able to watch their favorite television shows on their brand new 50 inch flat screen tv's at the Pedo Summer Camp, which is my pleasant euphamism for the Moose Lake Correctional Facility where my daughter's offender and perhaps your offender is currently residing.
They are suffering folks. Please feel their pain.
What, you don't have a 50 inch flat screen tv? Why, you don't even have health insurance to cover the cost of the anxiety medications that you need to quiet the demons in your head? And that restitution that your offender is supposed to be making that currently doesn't exist? All of that pales in comparison to the suffering that these offenders must currently endure.
Personally, I'd like to see who had their signature on the purchase order for these tv's. Just curious.
And me, siding with ANYTHING Governor Pawlenty does? Yeah, I am TOTALLY uncomfortable with that...
Thursday, October 08, 2009
The F Word
No, it's not that word.
I don't need to discuss that word. That word, for me, is the colored marshmallow in my breakfast cereal; totally unnecessary, no doubt bad for me, and I'm going to eat it just the same. It keeps my head from exploding and prevents aneurysms.
The other "F" word I'm going to touch on today is actually more highly charged in my mind. It is forgiveness.
Up to this point, I've been under the impression that forgiveness meant condoning the action. Forgiveness meant throwing open my arms and saying "You were right! You didn't have any control and I'm so sorry for all your personal misery."
Yeah. That ain't gonna happen.
I even discussed forgiveness with my therapist and I asked if I needed to forgive in order to move on and be healthy in my own head. She said I didn't.
But I have had the opportunity to discuss the concept of forgiveness with a person from the criminal justice system recently. (And no, it wasn't the MN Sex Offender's Program.)
Forgiveness looks a lot different when the relationship is not going to continue. It isn't about communication and dialogue and rebuilding trust and going forward from this moment with a clean slate. It isn't about condoning an action. It isn't about making excuses or accepting excuses.
It basically involves cessation of negative actions against that person.
It basically means that you take that two ton weight that is around your neck and you set it down and you walk away.
Oh yeah, and you won't stand outside the prison gate with a shotgun on release day.
Framed like this, I can see where, someday, I could get there. I don't know if I would call it forgiveness, I think apathy is a more apt description. I have days where I can actually do apathy. That is an easier concept for me because I can honestly say "You've done nothing but negatively impact my life for nearly 18 years. I'm not going to expend anymore energy on you. You aren't worth it."
But I suppose when the last bit of legalese is finished, I get to call my apathy "forgiveness". Perhaps forgiveness is apathy on steroids? There are just a couple more legal hurdles as far as STBX goes and then I might have to meditate on my belly button for awhile.
The hardest part, the one that will take a lifetime, is to forgive myself. I can learn all about how pedophiles are masters at manipulation and I can be stunned by the concept of "lying by omission" that was the trademark of STBX's modus operandi. I can learn about the wheels of power and see how I was a cog in the great machine. I can learn all of the concepts and the vocabulary and see the statistics laid out in front of me.
But to acknowledge the weight of the three rocks lashed to my back, labeled "You could have...", "You should have...", and "You didn't" and then set them down and walk away?
I'm working on it.
I don't need to discuss that word. That word, for me, is the colored marshmallow in my breakfast cereal; totally unnecessary, no doubt bad for me, and I'm going to eat it just the same. It keeps my head from exploding and prevents aneurysms.
The other "F" word I'm going to touch on today is actually more highly charged in my mind. It is forgiveness.
Up to this point, I've been under the impression that forgiveness meant condoning the action. Forgiveness meant throwing open my arms and saying "You were right! You didn't have any control and I'm so sorry for all your personal misery."
Yeah. That ain't gonna happen.
I even discussed forgiveness with my therapist and I asked if I needed to forgive in order to move on and be healthy in my own head. She said I didn't.
But I have had the opportunity to discuss the concept of forgiveness with a person from the criminal justice system recently. (And no, it wasn't the MN Sex Offender's Program.)
Forgiveness looks a lot different when the relationship is not going to continue. It isn't about communication and dialogue and rebuilding trust and going forward from this moment with a clean slate. It isn't about condoning an action. It isn't about making excuses or accepting excuses.
It basically involves cessation of negative actions against that person.
It basically means that you take that two ton weight that is around your neck and you set it down and you walk away.
Oh yeah, and you won't stand outside the prison gate with a shotgun on release day.
Framed like this, I can see where, someday, I could get there. I don't know if I would call it forgiveness, I think apathy is a more apt description. I have days where I can actually do apathy. That is an easier concept for me because I can honestly say "You've done nothing but negatively impact my life for nearly 18 years. I'm not going to expend anymore energy on you. You aren't worth it."
But I suppose when the last bit of legalese is finished, I get to call my apathy "forgiveness". Perhaps forgiveness is apathy on steroids? There are just a couple more legal hurdles as far as STBX goes and then I might have to meditate on my belly button for awhile.
The hardest part, the one that will take a lifetime, is to forgive myself. I can learn all about how pedophiles are masters at manipulation and I can be stunned by the concept of "lying by omission" that was the trademark of STBX's modus operandi. I can learn about the wheels of power and see how I was a cog in the great machine. I can learn all of the concepts and the vocabulary and see the statistics laid out in front of me.
But to acknowledge the weight of the three rocks lashed to my back, labeled "You could have...", "You should have...", and "You didn't" and then set them down and walk away?
I'm working on it.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Most Sincerest Of Happy Birthday Greetings
Many people use their birthdays as a time of reflection: What have I done with my life? Am I where I thought I would be at this time? What have I done to change the world? Have I attained the dreams that I dreamt? Am I working on PLAN A? B? M? Z?
Well, today is STBX's 46th birthday.
I wonder what you get for your birthday while in prison? An extra waffle for breakfast? Extra jack off time in the shower? A kiss and a peck and a hug around the neck from your cell mate? An extra helping of kiddie porn under your pillow from the kiddie porn fairy?
One positive thing.
Perhaps searching your 46 years for one positive thing that you have contributed to society.
My kids asked me, a few months ago if I regreted ever having met him and being boxed into that corner was a tad uncomfortable. How can I say yes if I am looking at two beautiful children that unfortunately shared his DNA.
"I can't say that I regret it because I have you and I love you with all my heart and soul. I regret not having the strength to realize that he was incapable of love. I regret not realizing that I should have left earlier and realized that a homeless shelter would have been better than life under his roof. I regret not having the strength to realize that it was not just me that he was hurting."
"But," my daughter assured me, "We would have come along somehow. We would have found you."
"Well, putting it that way? Of course I wish I had never met him."
We all have legacies that we leave behind on this earth. Some are immdediate, some are echoes that reverberate throughout generations.
All I ask is this one thing: Give me one positive thing that you have ever done.
Well, today is STBX's 46th birthday.
I wonder what you get for your birthday while in prison? An extra waffle for breakfast? Extra jack off time in the shower? A kiss and a peck and a hug around the neck from your cell mate? An extra helping of kiddie porn under your pillow from the kiddie porn fairy?
One positive thing.
Perhaps searching your 46 years for one positive thing that you have contributed to society.
My kids asked me, a few months ago if I regreted ever having met him and being boxed into that corner was a tad uncomfortable. How can I say yes if I am looking at two beautiful children that unfortunately shared his DNA.
"I can't say that I regret it because I have you and I love you with all my heart and soul. I regret not having the strength to realize that he was incapable of love. I regret not realizing that I should have left earlier and realized that a homeless shelter would have been better than life under his roof. I regret not having the strength to realize that it was not just me that he was hurting."
"But," my daughter assured me, "We would have come along somehow. We would have found you."
"Well, putting it that way? Of course I wish I had never met him."
We all have legacies that we leave behind on this earth. Some are immdediate, some are echoes that reverberate throughout generations.
All I ask is this one thing: Give me one positive thing that you have ever done.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Call Me "Crater Gut"
Aside from a futile trip to the law makin' office today, I also went in and saw a real life doctor about my guts.
I am soooo glad I went into the poor folks clinic rather than the regular clinic for all o' them nice people that have things like health insurance and money.
No actually, I am...
I was terrified to take GI symptoms into a clinic that has no concept that people ever have to make a choice between prescriptions and food. I can guarantee that I would have had three radiological exams scheduled and a $200 prescription.
Instead I got a very thorough exam, blood work, a diagnosis of a probable ulcer, and enough free samples to get me through the next two months. If I'm not seeing some improvement by Monday, THEN we'll schedule radiology.
Wow. Can you imagine if every doctor actually considered practical ways to diagnose instead of the shotgun scatter of a ton of tests and a $5,000 bill in an hour? Can you imagine all those people screaming about keeping the government out of their Medicare (Yeah, if that phrase doesn't make you LAUGH at it's stupidity, you need to drink this purple kool-aid right here. Yes, this one...drink it ALLLLLL GONE.) actually ALLOWING a doctor to do that? Yes, there is a time and a place for the scattershot approach. Recognizing when that is would be the next hot button issue.
"My health care is ALWAYS an emergency...fuck everyone else."
I can hear it now.
AAAAANNNNNNYYYWAY.....
The next thing on the agenda, providing that my liver isn't rotting out (which I'm saying that it isn't because I can't afford a rotting liver and I look HORRIBLE in yellow) is to give this hole in my gut a name.
Off the top of my head, if I wanted to go with my inner bitch I'd have to call it Billy Jo Curtis. This would be a little bit of pedo combined with two little bits of lawyers.
Who is Billy Jo Curtis anyway?
Billy Jo Curtis will fuck your wife.
Billy Jo Curtis has a body built like a brick shit house.
Billy Jo Curtis has a body that smells like a brick shit house.
Billy Jo Curtis will shoot your dog.
Billy Jo Curtis likes to meet women on the internet cuz he can tell them he's prince charming.
Billy Jo Curtis will kick your cat.
Billy Jo Curtis will blame everyone else for everything that's wrong with his life.
Billy Jo Curtis NEVER makes a bad decision.
Billy Jo Curtis has a KKK tattoo.
Billy Jo Curtis lurks outside of kindergarten classes even though he doesn't have kids.
Billy Jo Curtis likes to hit women.
Billy Jo Curtis taps his foot in the men's room at the airport.
Billy Jo Curtis likes to wipe his greasy fingers on your clean car.
Billy Jo Curtis will key your car if you piss him off.
Billy Jo Curtis is ALWAYS pissed off.
Billy Jo Curtis doesn't give a shit about anyone but Billy Jo Curtis.
Billy Jo Curtis never returns your phone calls.
Billy Jo Curtis LOVES to spend YOUR money.
Billy Jo Curtis will always be a hater.
But if I actually named it Billy Jo Curtis, that would mean that I am carrying three bastards around that PISS ME OFF.
That can't be healthy.
No, I think this is a good opportunity to realize that I can do better than that.
I will name her Tiffany.
I am soooo glad I went into the poor folks clinic rather than the regular clinic for all o' them nice people that have things like health insurance and money.
No actually, I am...
I was terrified to take GI symptoms into a clinic that has no concept that people ever have to make a choice between prescriptions and food. I can guarantee that I would have had three radiological exams scheduled and a $200 prescription.
Instead I got a very thorough exam, blood work, a diagnosis of a probable ulcer, and enough free samples to get me through the next two months. If I'm not seeing some improvement by Monday, THEN we'll schedule radiology.
Wow. Can you imagine if every doctor actually considered practical ways to diagnose instead of the shotgun scatter of a ton of tests and a $5,000 bill in an hour? Can you imagine all those people screaming about keeping the government out of their Medicare (Yeah, if that phrase doesn't make you LAUGH at it's stupidity, you need to drink this purple kool-aid right here. Yes, this one...drink it ALLLLLL GONE.) actually ALLOWING a doctor to do that? Yes, there is a time and a place for the scattershot approach. Recognizing when that is would be the next hot button issue.
"My health care is ALWAYS an emergency...fuck everyone else."
I can hear it now.
AAAAANNNNNNYYYWAY.....
The next thing on the agenda, providing that my liver isn't rotting out (which I'm saying that it isn't because I can't afford a rotting liver and I look HORRIBLE in yellow) is to give this hole in my gut a name.
Off the top of my head, if I wanted to go with my inner bitch I'd have to call it Billy Jo Curtis. This would be a little bit of pedo combined with two little bits of lawyers.
Who is Billy Jo Curtis anyway?
Billy Jo Curtis will fuck your wife.
Billy Jo Curtis has a body built like a brick shit house.
Billy Jo Curtis has a body that smells like a brick shit house.
Billy Jo Curtis will shoot your dog.
Billy Jo Curtis likes to meet women on the internet cuz he can tell them he's prince charming.
Billy Jo Curtis will kick your cat.
Billy Jo Curtis will blame everyone else for everything that's wrong with his life.
Billy Jo Curtis NEVER makes a bad decision.
Billy Jo Curtis has a KKK tattoo.
Billy Jo Curtis lurks outside of kindergarten classes even though he doesn't have kids.
Billy Jo Curtis likes to hit women.
Billy Jo Curtis taps his foot in the men's room at the airport.
Billy Jo Curtis likes to wipe his greasy fingers on your clean car.
Billy Jo Curtis will key your car if you piss him off.
Billy Jo Curtis is ALWAYS pissed off.
Billy Jo Curtis doesn't give a shit about anyone but Billy Jo Curtis.
Billy Jo Curtis never returns your phone calls.
Billy Jo Curtis LOVES to spend YOUR money.
Billy Jo Curtis will always be a hater.
But if I actually named it Billy Jo Curtis, that would mean that I am carrying three bastards around that PISS ME OFF.
That can't be healthy.
No, I think this is a good opportunity to realize that I can do better than that.
I will name her Tiffany.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Nightmares
So, what does the perp talk about when he is finally caught after imprisoning a child for 18 years and forcing her to have his children? The first one when she was 14?
Why, he talks about how he's not that man anymore.
Why, he talks about how his life was changed by the birth of the two little girls that he got from raping a child.
Why, he talks about how he NEVER touched the two little girls.
What seems to be missing in all of this is his first victim. The girl he abducted and raped and impregnated and imprisoned for 18 years. The life he ruined for his own personal gratification. That doesn't seem to matter.
To think, this man was a convicted sex offender and had a parole officer. He had a wife and neighbors and a supposed life.
I can't even imagine what a story like this does to families with missing children. I know that I can listen to this man's rambling justifications and just shake my head.
I've heard this crap before.
He thinks this is a heartwarming story.
I guess he doesn't think that there is anything wrong here.
The victim is once again the "black hole". It's like they are pixelized in the perp's mind. They don't exist. They don't have feelings. They are simply a means to an end.
And a question I'm just waiting for the news media to ask? Why didn't she escape...
It will come. It will be put back onto her. It will be an expectation of a society that has no concept of what this poor child went through that she should have escaped. She should have figured out how to get away.
At that point, the media will need to be dragged out back and beaten with a stick.
I will gladly donate the stick.
Why, he talks about how he's not that man anymore.
Why, he talks about how his life was changed by the birth of the two little girls that he got from raping a child.
Why, he talks about how he NEVER touched the two little girls.
What seems to be missing in all of this is his first victim. The girl he abducted and raped and impregnated and imprisoned for 18 years. The life he ruined for his own personal gratification. That doesn't seem to matter.
To think, this man was a convicted sex offender and had a parole officer. He had a wife and neighbors and a supposed life.
I can't even imagine what a story like this does to families with missing children. I know that I can listen to this man's rambling justifications and just shake my head.
I've heard this crap before.
He thinks this is a heartwarming story.
I guess he doesn't think that there is anything wrong here.
The victim is once again the "black hole". It's like they are pixelized in the perp's mind. They don't exist. They don't have feelings. They are simply a means to an end.
And a question I'm just waiting for the news media to ask? Why didn't she escape...
It will come. It will be put back onto her. It will be an expectation of a society that has no concept of what this poor child went through that she should have escaped. She should have figured out how to get away.
At that point, the media will need to be dragged out back and beaten with a stick.
I will gladly donate the stick.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
I'm Not OK, You're Not OK. OK?
The whole notion of “making amends” and “forgiveness” when it comes to the pedophile in “recovery” makes me want to vomit.
There. I said it. Does this make me a bad person? Does this make me the brick wall blocking the perpetrator’s healing?
I had a chance to talk to a friend today, a very wise friend in the field of victim advocacy. I had to know, from a clinical perspective, does my brick wall stance with my arms across my chest and my frowny face on fire, does that mean that I am doing myself and my children a disservice?
Yes, you will note that I said “myself” and “my children”. Let’s be honest, I don’t give a rat’s ass about “his journey of healing”. He’s busy bonding with all his pedo friends and I’m sure they’re getting nice and healthy. His journey is not my business. I have no control over his journey. Never have, never will.
I have control over my journey. I have the ability to influence my children’s journey.
I don’t ever want to see this man again, that much I can be assured will not change.
The notion that someday, far down the road, he might try to look up his children and “make amends” makes me nauseated. It actually keeps me awake at night.
I will always be their mother. I will always want to protect them from pain.
I have no control over this.
Why can’t I let that go?
Even when you visualize your children as adults, you still want to protect them. You don’t want them to get that phone call when they are 31 years old and starting their own family and trying to recover from their childhood by doing things “right” this time.
The problem with the “making amends” schtick is that there always has been and always will be an imbalance of power between a pedophile/perpetrator and their victim. I can’t imagine any person of any age who could look their perp in the face and not instantly be that child in that bedroom on that night when the entire universe changed.
A pedo/perp will never get this concept. They will always feel that the world and its inhabitants should exist for their own pleasure. Even when they can parrot the self help books. Even when they have went through their twelve steps. Even when they have picked up their own shattered lives and walked on.
They feel powerless and so they take the ultimate power. The power of a child’s mind, body, heart, trust, imagination, and love.
And they crush it in their filthy hands.
Then, someday, they just might ask for forgiveness.
The power that I have is over my own life. My own belief that I do not have to join hands with this person and say “I forgive you.”
My power is that I continue to exist. I continue to nurture my children. I see a way forward that does not involve his power. I see that I can learn and grow and love and laugh and feel sunlight on my skin for the first time in years.
My power lies in the fact that someday, we will all be in the sunlight. We will no longer dwell in the shadow that he has cast over our lives.
My power is telling my children that in 15 or 20 or 25 years, that power will be theirs.
The power to say “no”.
There. I said it. Does this make me a bad person? Does this make me the brick wall blocking the perpetrator’s healing?
I had a chance to talk to a friend today, a very wise friend in the field of victim advocacy. I had to know, from a clinical perspective, does my brick wall stance with my arms across my chest and my frowny face on fire, does that mean that I am doing myself and my children a disservice?
Yes, you will note that I said “myself” and “my children”. Let’s be honest, I don’t give a rat’s ass about “his journey of healing”. He’s busy bonding with all his pedo friends and I’m sure they’re getting nice and healthy. His journey is not my business. I have no control over his journey. Never have, never will.
I have control over my journey. I have the ability to influence my children’s journey.
I don’t ever want to see this man again, that much I can be assured will not change.
The notion that someday, far down the road, he might try to look up his children and “make amends” makes me nauseated. It actually keeps me awake at night.
I will always be their mother. I will always want to protect them from pain.
I have no control over this.
Why can’t I let that go?
Even when you visualize your children as adults, you still want to protect them. You don’t want them to get that phone call when they are 31 years old and starting their own family and trying to recover from their childhood by doing things “right” this time.
The problem with the “making amends” schtick is that there always has been and always will be an imbalance of power between a pedophile/perpetrator and their victim. I can’t imagine any person of any age who could look their perp in the face and not instantly be that child in that bedroom on that night when the entire universe changed.
A pedo/perp will never get this concept. They will always feel that the world and its inhabitants should exist for their own pleasure. Even when they can parrot the self help books. Even when they have went through their twelve steps. Even when they have picked up their own shattered lives and walked on.
They feel powerless and so they take the ultimate power. The power of a child’s mind, body, heart, trust, imagination, and love.
And they crush it in their filthy hands.
Then, someday, they just might ask for forgiveness.
The power that I have is over my own life. My own belief that I do not have to join hands with this person and say “I forgive you.”
My power is that I continue to exist. I continue to nurture my children. I see a way forward that does not involve his power. I see that I can learn and grow and love and laugh and feel sunlight on my skin for the first time in years.
My power lies in the fact that someday, we will all be in the sunlight. We will no longer dwell in the shadow that he has cast over our lives.
My power is telling my children that in 15 or 20 or 25 years, that power will be theirs.
The power to say “no”.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Admitting It's In Poor Taste Is The First Step
During the ongoing divorce proceedings, STBX's future ability to actually hold a decent job was called into question, thus making him not in the least responsible financially for the children that he so traumatized.
Never let it be said that I'm not looking out for his best interests. I've found the perfect job for him, thanks to The Onion!
Ex-Pedophile Shares Tips On How To Make Your Kids Less Attractive
Never let it be said that I'm not looking out for his best interests. I've found the perfect job for him, thanks to The Onion!
Ex-Pedophile Shares Tips On How To Make Your Kids Less Attractive
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Club Ped
I knew that STBX would be transferred soon so I've been checking in to see where he would go.
I was told my certain powers that obviously were not in the know that he would not be going to the sexual offender correctional facility in Moose Lake. I was concerned about this because a friend of mine had her perp go there and he proceeded to have an affair with his therapist.
Well, that is exactly where he is now. Club Ped. Doesn't he look happy? Proud of himself? Protected from all those that would do him harm. I'm guessing that they all gather round and talk about their conquests and what a great thrill it is to fuck small children.
It even looks like a college dorm setting. Albeit, a STATE college dorm.
And hey, he's just down the road a piece. Nice and close.
It sounds so incredibly insane of me but my skin is on fire today.
This is how you coddle a pedophile. Hey, maybe HE'LL be lucky and score with his therapist! Maybe she'll even call him "daddy" when they're doing it...
I was told my certain powers that obviously were not in the know that he would not be going to the sexual offender correctional facility in Moose Lake. I was concerned about this because a friend of mine had her perp go there and he proceeded to have an affair with his therapist.
Well, that is exactly where he is now. Club Ped. Doesn't he look happy? Proud of himself? Protected from all those that would do him harm. I'm guessing that they all gather round and talk about their conquests and what a great thrill it is to fuck small children.
It even looks like a college dorm setting. Albeit, a STATE college dorm.
And hey, he's just down the road a piece. Nice and close.
It sounds so incredibly insane of me but my skin is on fire today.
This is how you coddle a pedophile. Hey, maybe HE'LL be lucky and score with his therapist! Maybe she'll even call him "daddy" when they're doing it...
My Book Report- Conclusions
As I stated a few weeks ago, I'm still getting used to people who recognize me through the blog or the the newspaper article. I don't mean to be slow on the uptake, there was just that incident when I was a baby and I got dropped on my head.
So, to the several people at the grocery store over the past couple weeks and the waitress, and the gal at the Farmer's Market and the postal worker, thank you for sharing your stories with me. It's made me even more aware of the stories that we carry around under the surface of our skin. There are so many of us out there.
I've finished Out of the Shadows and I'm getting ready to pass it on to someone else. It pissed me off but I'm glad I read it.
There were reactions in the book from spouses that I totally identified with but there were also conclusions drawn that missed the mark, at least in my case.
I think, once again, it came down to a book that didn't match my situation. It really hammered home the idea of the co addict who assisted in the "addiction" by covering up for the spouse's issues. It also talked about spouses who are controlling because they feel so out of control.
Does the fact that 99% of all the chores and responsibilities in our marriage fell on my shoulders in turn make me controlling? Had I not done them, they would not have gotten done. Whenever I asked for help in doing something, STBX blew me off with sarcasm and turned back to his computer.
If this indeed means that I was controlling, can I ask what my options were? Or does controlling mean that a spouse tries to manipulate her "addict's" behavior by keeping him busy so he won't cruise the bars and pick up prostitutes?
The only control I had was over myself and I realized that long ago. STBX didn't want a wife, he wanted a mommy. Women who play that role for their husbands DRIVE ME AROUND THE BEND.
The book did mention how a common theme for "addicts" is that they want a woman who is nothing like their mother and then they spend years hating her because she isn't their mother.
I underlined that paragraph. Perhaps two or three times. That is the perfect description of the last 17 years of my life.
Before we got married, STBX told me "I'm so glad you're nothing like my mother."
Hindsight can be so funny. It makes me want to puke.
Where I disagreed with the book most heartily was when it was stated that a co addict is the same as the addict in that they feel they have no self worth and are unlovable.
Yeah, I'm not going there at all. I realized a long time ago that I did not deserve the shit that I was fed. It turned out to be many years of being isolated and manipulated and I became very angry. Unfortunately, after being rebuffed enough times when it came to talking about these things, I gave up. I began to mark my time and plan my escape.
Funnily enough, my revelations all happened after the abuse stopped. Not the brightest bulb, I will admit.
As I stated before, this book is for the "addict", not the survivors. Nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE in this book does it talk about families breaking up over this. Every scenario leads the spouse and children to therapy with the perp and they allllll live happily ever after.
Yeah. STBX was never able to take in information and actually apply it to a new situation. He could parrot those that he shared their beliefs but to actually digest a book and apply it to the reality of his situation, well, that would just lead to a court statement that was painted in rainbows and tethered to clouds.
There are about five sentences or so in this book that state the possibility of "legal action" for some things that "addicts" do. Perhaps this is to refrain from scaring perps away.
It is, however, not grounded in reality.
Not my reality at least.
So, to the several people at the grocery store over the past couple weeks and the waitress, and the gal at the Farmer's Market and the postal worker, thank you for sharing your stories with me. It's made me even more aware of the stories that we carry around under the surface of our skin. There are so many of us out there.
I've finished Out of the Shadows and I'm getting ready to pass it on to someone else. It pissed me off but I'm glad I read it.
There were reactions in the book from spouses that I totally identified with but there were also conclusions drawn that missed the mark, at least in my case.
I think, once again, it came down to a book that didn't match my situation. It really hammered home the idea of the co addict who assisted in the "addiction" by covering up for the spouse's issues. It also talked about spouses who are controlling because they feel so out of control.
Does the fact that 99% of all the chores and responsibilities in our marriage fell on my shoulders in turn make me controlling? Had I not done them, they would not have gotten done. Whenever I asked for help in doing something, STBX blew me off with sarcasm and turned back to his computer.
If this indeed means that I was controlling, can I ask what my options were? Or does controlling mean that a spouse tries to manipulate her "addict's" behavior by keeping him busy so he won't cruise the bars and pick up prostitutes?
The only control I had was over myself and I realized that long ago. STBX didn't want a wife, he wanted a mommy. Women who play that role for their husbands DRIVE ME AROUND THE BEND.
The book did mention how a common theme for "addicts" is that they want a woman who is nothing like their mother and then they spend years hating her because she isn't their mother.
I underlined that paragraph. Perhaps two or three times. That is the perfect description of the last 17 years of my life.
Before we got married, STBX told me "I'm so glad you're nothing like my mother."
Hindsight can be so funny. It makes me want to puke.
Where I disagreed with the book most heartily was when it was stated that a co addict is the same as the addict in that they feel they have no self worth and are unlovable.
Yeah, I'm not going there at all. I realized a long time ago that I did not deserve the shit that I was fed. It turned out to be many years of being isolated and manipulated and I became very angry. Unfortunately, after being rebuffed enough times when it came to talking about these things, I gave up. I began to mark my time and plan my escape.
Funnily enough, my revelations all happened after the abuse stopped. Not the brightest bulb, I will admit.
As I stated before, this book is for the "addict", not the survivors. Nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE in this book does it talk about families breaking up over this. Every scenario leads the spouse and children to therapy with the perp and they allllll live happily ever after.
Yeah. STBX was never able to take in information and actually apply it to a new situation. He could parrot those that he shared their beliefs but to actually digest a book and apply it to the reality of his situation, well, that would just lead to a court statement that was painted in rainbows and tethered to clouds.
There are about five sentences or so in this book that state the possibility of "legal action" for some things that "addicts" do. Perhaps this is to refrain from scaring perps away.
It is, however, not grounded in reality.
Not my reality at least.
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
My Book Report
I'm halfway through Out Of The Shadows and now I understand STBX's statement in court.
Why should he apologize for something he had no control over?
There are many things in this book that ring true to him and to what I imagine his childhood to be. There is also a chapter on co addiction that says it's wrong to hide your spouse's porn and to discount your child's disclosure because you're just feeding into his cycle of addiction.
But thus far, the main gist of the book follows AA and even has the 12 steps for sex addicts.
You are powerless in the face of your disease.
STBX jumped onto that bandwagon as quick as he could. Powerless? Not responsible? Hey, it's the card he played his entire life.
The killer of it, for me, is that he would go on mini-rants about how AA was ridiculous and that alcoholism wasn't a disease and that alcoholics used that "disease crap" as a crutch.
But when it comes to the consequences of his own actions, suddenly, it all makes sense.
As I figured, this book completely ignores the devastation that families are in after the offender has done his worst. I'm picturing the drunk driver lurching down the highway after causing a twenty car pile up and the author of the book running up to the drunk and asking "Are you ok? Let me get you a band aid." Meanwhile, twenty cars are piled up with people bleeding to death, completely ignored.
When STBX turned to my daughter at the sentencing and said "I thought we could just work this out in therapy," I was appalled at how minimizing that statement was.
Now that I read this book, I can see how he made that statement. One of the steps in recovery is to go back to all the people that you've hurt and talk it out.
That idea, in and of itself, is so completely off kilter that I can't even go there. The idea that a person who has done unspeakable things thinks it's ok to force themselves onto their victim at some point in the future so they themselves can "get better" is, once again, self centered. The book does mention that this step should be done so long as it "doesn't cause the victim pain".
What???
Crack pipe smokers unite!
The book also spends a sentence or two on how manipulative and secretive these folk are yet talks at some length about how co addicts are to blame for not listening to the sex addict and not telling the sex addict how they really feel.
I haven't quite figured out if the author is calling all spouses co addicts or just the lucky few that pay off the babysitter after their husband tries to feel them up.
How could I discuss my feelings with "my addict" when I was called a bitch and told to shut up? The most infuriating part of the whole scenario is looking back and remembering the odd questions that he would pose to me. Things that made me look at him as if he were from Mars but never things that made me say "Ah ha! You're a pedophile!"
I'm certainly guilty of stupidity and ignorance. I'm also guilty of staying in a broken marriage and putting up with years of misery. By the time I was plotting my get away, it was years too late.
What this book fails horribly at is looking at the flip side. It can tell all the scenarios out there: Dan was a married man with two kids and a good job. He spent $5000 a month on hookers and porn and when his daughter turned eight, he began molesting her. This lasted for six years.
Poor Dan. My heart is bleeding for him.
How about a flip side to this scenario?
Mary was married to Dan and she had two kids. Communication had broken down in their marriage long ago as Dan withdrew from the family unit. Whenever Mary would try to talk to him about her day or the kids, he would snap at her. Whenever the kids would try to talk to him he would ignore them for at least five minutes, hoping they would just go away. If they didn't give up trying to communicate, he would sigh heavily and answer them sarcastically at every opportunity. Aside from being at work, Dan spent all of his time on the computer. On the rare occasion when he was home at dinner time, he would take his plate and sit at the computer, once again ignoring his family. It was later discovered that Dan began molesting his daughter when she was nine. He had engaged in coercive sex with Mary after the births of their children and Mary, a survivor of abuse as a child, had managed to bury the trauma. Her flashbacks to these times would start after finding out about her daughter's abuse. Mary had distanced herself from Dan emotionally and physically and had been planning her get away from him for at least a year before disclosure.
Wow. Mary and Dan. Pretty screwed up, eh?
Glad I don't know anyone like that.
Apparently, I am not the only skeptic...
Why should he apologize for something he had no control over?
There are many things in this book that ring true to him and to what I imagine his childhood to be. There is also a chapter on co addiction that says it's wrong to hide your spouse's porn and to discount your child's disclosure because you're just feeding into his cycle of addiction.
But thus far, the main gist of the book follows AA and even has the 12 steps for sex addicts.
You are powerless in the face of your disease.
STBX jumped onto that bandwagon as quick as he could. Powerless? Not responsible? Hey, it's the card he played his entire life.
The killer of it, for me, is that he would go on mini-rants about how AA was ridiculous and that alcoholism wasn't a disease and that alcoholics used that "disease crap" as a crutch.
But when it comes to the consequences of his own actions, suddenly, it all makes sense.
As I figured, this book completely ignores the devastation that families are in after the offender has done his worst. I'm picturing the drunk driver lurching down the highway after causing a twenty car pile up and the author of the book running up to the drunk and asking "Are you ok? Let me get you a band aid." Meanwhile, twenty cars are piled up with people bleeding to death, completely ignored.
When STBX turned to my daughter at the sentencing and said "I thought we could just work this out in therapy," I was appalled at how minimizing that statement was.
Now that I read this book, I can see how he made that statement. One of the steps in recovery is to go back to all the people that you've hurt and talk it out.
That idea, in and of itself, is so completely off kilter that I can't even go there. The idea that a person who has done unspeakable things thinks it's ok to force themselves onto their victim at some point in the future so they themselves can "get better" is, once again, self centered. The book does mention that this step should be done so long as it "doesn't cause the victim pain".
What???
Crack pipe smokers unite!
The book also spends a sentence or two on how manipulative and secretive these folk are yet talks at some length about how co addicts are to blame for not listening to the sex addict and not telling the sex addict how they really feel.
I haven't quite figured out if the author is calling all spouses co addicts or just the lucky few that pay off the babysitter after their husband tries to feel them up.
How could I discuss my feelings with "my addict" when I was called a bitch and told to shut up? The most infuriating part of the whole scenario is looking back and remembering the odd questions that he would pose to me. Things that made me look at him as if he were from Mars but never things that made me say "Ah ha! You're a pedophile!"
I'm certainly guilty of stupidity and ignorance. I'm also guilty of staying in a broken marriage and putting up with years of misery. By the time I was plotting my get away, it was years too late.
What this book fails horribly at is looking at the flip side. It can tell all the scenarios out there: Dan was a married man with two kids and a good job. He spent $5000 a month on hookers and porn and when his daughter turned eight, he began molesting her. This lasted for six years.
Poor Dan. My heart is bleeding for him.
How about a flip side to this scenario?
Mary was married to Dan and she had two kids. Communication had broken down in their marriage long ago as Dan withdrew from the family unit. Whenever Mary would try to talk to him about her day or the kids, he would snap at her. Whenever the kids would try to talk to him he would ignore them for at least five minutes, hoping they would just go away. If they didn't give up trying to communicate, he would sigh heavily and answer them sarcastically at every opportunity. Aside from being at work, Dan spent all of his time on the computer. On the rare occasion when he was home at dinner time, he would take his plate and sit at the computer, once again ignoring his family. It was later discovered that Dan began molesting his daughter when she was nine. He had engaged in coercive sex with Mary after the births of their children and Mary, a survivor of abuse as a child, had managed to bury the trauma. Her flashbacks to these times would start after finding out about her daughter's abuse. Mary had distanced herself from Dan emotionally and physically and had been planning her get away from him for at least a year before disclosure.
Wow. Mary and Dan. Pretty screwed up, eh?
Glad I don't know anyone like that.
Apparently, I am not the only skeptic...
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Education of Me
I followed an internet trail last night, quite unintentionally.
There's nothing like reading articles on sexual addiction on the internet, only to realize that your STBX had made a comment on the article twenty days before being sentenced to prison. A funny comment. Or at least, an attempted funny comment.
Because it's ever so amusing to have someone say that if you're a sex addict, all you need to do is masturbate a lot. What a great addiction, huh?
Needless to say, I stopped trying to educate myself by reading articles online.
Right after life hit the fan, I tried to educate myself on molestation and pedophilia. It wasn't easy. It never is.
Coming from the perspective of a survivor and a non-offending parent, the betrayal and anger that I felt came from so many different levels. There weren't many resources out there for my situation.
Also, when you are feeling so emotionally raw, picking up a book can be like picking up a bomb. I read a book that was geared toward my story as a survivor. It was for girls that have no family member to turn to. When they disclose, they are dismissed or called a liar. It was a good book until I got to the chapter on mothers. The author made almost a throw away comment that mothers almost always know what's going on and many times are complicit. As a survivor of abuse, this was true. When I disclosed, my adoptive mother called me a slut and said "I always knew."
But coming from the perspective of a mother who didn't know, this single sentence tore me apart.
When it comes to books written for non offending parents, they are few and far between. Thankfully, I found one author, Jane Gilgun, who manages to discuss all perspectives of an abuse scenario: child, parent, and perpetrator. If you follow the link, you can download the book "Child Sexual Abuse" for free. It's a good starting point.
It is hard. It is always hard to read the words of perpetrators. It is also hard to wrap my mind around reading a book on sexual addiction.
But I'm going to.
The hardest part of the whole exercise is reading a book that is talking to the perpetrator, especially after listening to STBX's statement before the court. He stood there with blinders on talking about "me...me...me..."
There are so many throw away lines and comments in books like these, regarding the people being hurt by the perpetrator. It minimizes the victimization. This is exactly what STBX fed into with his statement to the court. I'm sure it's not intentional by the author, it's just that the book isn't necessarily meant to be read by the person that was on the receiving end.
But I will go there. Somehow, I can't imagine STBX ever picking up a copy of The Courage To Heal and learning about the consequences of his actions.
And that's the saddest part.
There's nothing like reading articles on sexual addiction on the internet, only to realize that your STBX had made a comment on the article twenty days before being sentenced to prison. A funny comment. Or at least, an attempted funny comment.
Because it's ever so amusing to have someone say that if you're a sex addict, all you need to do is masturbate a lot. What a great addiction, huh?
Needless to say, I stopped trying to educate myself by reading articles online.
Right after life hit the fan, I tried to educate myself on molestation and pedophilia. It wasn't easy. It never is.
Coming from the perspective of a survivor and a non-offending parent, the betrayal and anger that I felt came from so many different levels. There weren't many resources out there for my situation.
Also, when you are feeling so emotionally raw, picking up a book can be like picking up a bomb. I read a book that was geared toward my story as a survivor. It was for girls that have no family member to turn to. When they disclose, they are dismissed or called a liar. It was a good book until I got to the chapter on mothers. The author made almost a throw away comment that mothers almost always know what's going on and many times are complicit. As a survivor of abuse, this was true. When I disclosed, my adoptive mother called me a slut and said "I always knew."
But coming from the perspective of a mother who didn't know, this single sentence tore me apart.
When it comes to books written for non offending parents, they are few and far between. Thankfully, I found one author, Jane Gilgun, who manages to discuss all perspectives of an abuse scenario: child, parent, and perpetrator. If you follow the link, you can download the book "Child Sexual Abuse" for free. It's a good starting point.
It is hard. It is always hard to read the words of perpetrators. It is also hard to wrap my mind around reading a book on sexual addiction.
But I'm going to.
The hardest part of the whole exercise is reading a book that is talking to the perpetrator, especially after listening to STBX's statement before the court. He stood there with blinders on talking about "me...me...me..."
There are so many throw away lines and comments in books like these, regarding the people being hurt by the perpetrator. It minimizes the victimization. This is exactly what STBX fed into with his statement to the court. I'm sure it's not intentional by the author, it's just that the book isn't necessarily meant to be read by the person that was on the receiving end.
But I will go there. Somehow, I can't imagine STBX ever picking up a copy of The Courage To Heal and learning about the consequences of his actions.
And that's the saddest part.
Monday, July 27, 2009
This Laundry Won't Clean Itself
I've encountered two very different reactions to the article in the paper on Sunday. I have encountered friends in public that I haven't seen in years that simply come up and give me a hug. (FYI: You might want to ask first...) Then, of course, there are the people commenting on the News Tribune site that state I have no business airing my dirty laundry in public as that should be the job of social scientists.
I sincerely can't stress what a difficult time I (and others reading this blog) have had in finding someone in similar circumstances. There is a decided disconnect when reading a sociological treatise on pedophilia in modern culture. I know, I've been there. I've read disserations so dry and filled with statistics that totally take the heart and soul out of everything that normal human beings go through in a situation such as this.
Can you quote me the statistics on how many mothers have flashbacks to what they have read in police reports?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who get off the phone with the prosecuting attorney, the victim advocate, the therapist, the lawyer, the teacher, the neighbor, the friend and quietly hang up the phone and sink to their knees and sob uncontrollably for an hour?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who look back on their own marriages and see the warning signs like flashing neon but were too trusting? Too blind?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who stand at their windows at 2 a.m, looking out on a rain washed street, feeling so hollow that they can hear their insides rattle at the slightest breeze?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who tried to protect their children from harm only to find harm under their own roof?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who endured verbal abuse and physical assult by telling themselves that "as long as he doesn't lay a hand on the kids...as long as I can hide it...as long as I don't call forced sex within the marriage rape...as long as I just pretend...everything will be ok.
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who stayed up late at night, looking at a line of perscription meds on their counter and wondering what the magic concoction would be to make the pain go away? Permanetly?
Can you measure the decibel level of the screams in the middle of the woods? The cathartic wailing once a mother finds herself alone and unable to move one more foot along the path.
Can you quantify the fleeting looks in your child's eyes that betray the words coming out of her mouth? Can you inform me how many minutes, hours, days, and years I can wrap my arms around her and tell her that I'm sorry. That she didn't deserve it. That she is a beautiful, valuable human being that never deserves to be used by another human being.
Can you quantify the anger? The dispair?
Give me your statistics. I will break their structures and rend their pages and show you that they have nothing to do with my heart.
We are not numbers to be studied. We are not statistics. We are flesh and bones and pain and anger and hope.
My hope for anyone reading this that KNOWS what I'm talking about would be the ability to look in the mirror and see what your experieces have done to you and for you. I would hope that you can come to terms with your ability to trust people. Your ability to protect yourself. Your ability to learn about healthy relationships. Your realization that strength comes in many forms. Some days, it's just getting out of bed. Other days, it's facing your bitterest fear in the court room.
I'm by no means an expert. I do, however, strongly recommend that people seek out experts.
If you live in Duluth, there are agencies out there to help. Our personal experience was with PAVSA, the Program to Aid Victims of Sexual Assult. We had trained people helping us every step of the way, sitting with us through police statements, court dates, meetings with probation offices, group therapy, and individual therapy. I can't sing their praises high enough. They also have a crisis line and have advocates that can help women during rape exams at hospitals.
Here is a listing of their mission and services.
There are also organizations that assist women in situations of domestic violence and native women facing these same issues within their own cultural framework.
You've lived through the nightmare. Maybe this morning, maybe fifty years ago. Realize what you need for your own well being and seek it out.
You are worth it.
I sincerely can't stress what a difficult time I (and others reading this blog) have had in finding someone in similar circumstances. There is a decided disconnect when reading a sociological treatise on pedophilia in modern culture. I know, I've been there. I've read disserations so dry and filled with statistics that totally take the heart and soul out of everything that normal human beings go through in a situation such as this.
Can you quote me the statistics on how many mothers have flashbacks to what they have read in police reports?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who get off the phone with the prosecuting attorney, the victim advocate, the therapist, the lawyer, the teacher, the neighbor, the friend and quietly hang up the phone and sink to their knees and sob uncontrollably for an hour?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who look back on their own marriages and see the warning signs like flashing neon but were too trusting? Too blind?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who stand at their windows at 2 a.m, looking out on a rain washed street, feeling so hollow that they can hear their insides rattle at the slightest breeze?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who tried to protect their children from harm only to find harm under their own roof?
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who endured verbal abuse and physical assult by telling themselves that "as long as he doesn't lay a hand on the kids...as long as I can hide it...as long as I don't call forced sex within the marriage rape...as long as I just pretend...everything will be ok.
Can you quote me on the statistics of the mothers who stayed up late at night, looking at a line of perscription meds on their counter and wondering what the magic concoction would be to make the pain go away? Permanetly?
Can you measure the decibel level of the screams in the middle of the woods? The cathartic wailing once a mother finds herself alone and unable to move one more foot along the path.
Can you quantify the fleeting looks in your child's eyes that betray the words coming out of her mouth? Can you inform me how many minutes, hours, days, and years I can wrap my arms around her and tell her that I'm sorry. That she didn't deserve it. That she is a beautiful, valuable human being that never deserves to be used by another human being.
Can you quantify the anger? The dispair?
Give me your statistics. I will break their structures and rend their pages and show you that they have nothing to do with my heart.
We are not numbers to be studied. We are not statistics. We are flesh and bones and pain and anger and hope.
My hope for anyone reading this that KNOWS what I'm talking about would be the ability to look in the mirror and see what your experieces have done to you and for you. I would hope that you can come to terms with your ability to trust people. Your ability to protect yourself. Your ability to learn about healthy relationships. Your realization that strength comes in many forms. Some days, it's just getting out of bed. Other days, it's facing your bitterest fear in the court room.
I'm by no means an expert. I do, however, strongly recommend that people seek out experts.
If you live in Duluth, there are agencies out there to help. Our personal experience was with PAVSA, the Program to Aid Victims of Sexual Assult. We had trained people helping us every step of the way, sitting with us through police statements, court dates, meetings with probation offices, group therapy, and individual therapy. I can't sing their praises high enough. They also have a crisis line and have advocates that can help women during rape exams at hospitals.
Here is a listing of their mission and services.
There are also organizations that assist women in situations of domestic violence and native women facing these same issues within their own cultural framework.
You've lived through the nightmare. Maybe this morning, maybe fifty years ago. Realize what you need for your own well being and seek it out.
You are worth it.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The Accidental Activist
A few months ago, when we were in between the arraignment and the contested omnibus, I was contacted by a local reporter. She had read my blog and was interested in doing a piece on it.
At that point in time, I wanted to talk but I was afraid. I felt that anything I might say in the papers might be the wrong thing and I would put everything in jeopardy and I would be not only the cause of the case being thrown out of court but also the person who had taken a shattered life and doused it with gasoline and lit a match.
So I held off. Until now.
I’ve had so many private emails and public comments from people who have gone through this same ordeal. From people that were discounted when they disclosed, from mothers with horrible guilt, from people struggling to live day in and day out because someone in their lives took horrible advantage of them, and even from people that think I should just shut up and move on.
I don’t have a lot of use for people that tell me to shut up. Silence is not an option when the stakes are so high.
So I’m thinking there are a few people reading this blog today for the first time.
I’m sure there will be people that will be horrified that I speak so bluntly. There will be people that think such a sensitive topic should be shushed up and kept under the rug. There will be people that blame the victim, blame the mother, blame society, blame everyone but the perpetrator.
I also don’t have a lot of use for these people.
I didn’t choose to blog about pedophilia, it was thrust upon me. When I discovered what my soon-to-be-ex husband (STBX) did, I could have either shut down my blog or use it as a life preserver. I couldn’t continue writing and pretend that my life wasn’t exploding.
I chose to continue writing.
I chose to get angry.
I chose to write everyday as opposed to doing what I really wanted to do, curl up in a ball and die.
Funnily enough, this blog started out as a crafting blog. If you’re new here, welcome. If you’re a knitter or a quilter, I promise to occasionally speak of such things. If you love Corgis, grab a cup of coffee and get comfy.
If you’re here because you are a survivor of abuse or the non-offending parent, take my hand.
Let’s walk this journey together.
At that point in time, I wanted to talk but I was afraid. I felt that anything I might say in the papers might be the wrong thing and I would put everything in jeopardy and I would be not only the cause of the case being thrown out of court but also the person who had taken a shattered life and doused it with gasoline and lit a match.
So I held off. Until now.
I’ve had so many private emails and public comments from people who have gone through this same ordeal. From people that were discounted when they disclosed, from mothers with horrible guilt, from people struggling to live day in and day out because someone in their lives took horrible advantage of them, and even from people that think I should just shut up and move on.
I don’t have a lot of use for people that tell me to shut up. Silence is not an option when the stakes are so high.
So I’m thinking there are a few people reading this blog today for the first time.
I’m sure there will be people that will be horrified that I speak so bluntly. There will be people that think such a sensitive topic should be shushed up and kept under the rug. There will be people that blame the victim, blame the mother, blame society, blame everyone but the perpetrator.
I also don’t have a lot of use for these people.
I didn’t choose to blog about pedophilia, it was thrust upon me. When I discovered what my soon-to-be-ex husband (STBX) did, I could have either shut down my blog or use it as a life preserver. I couldn’t continue writing and pretend that my life wasn’t exploding.
I chose to continue writing.
I chose to get angry.
I chose to write everyday as opposed to doing what I really wanted to do, curl up in a ball and die.
Funnily enough, this blog started out as a crafting blog. If you’re new here, welcome. If you’re a knitter or a quilter, I promise to occasionally speak of such things. If you love Corgis, grab a cup of coffee and get comfy.
If you’re here because you are a survivor of abuse or the non-offending parent, take my hand.
Let’s walk this journey together.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Victim Impact Statement
It's always interesting to look at what keywords or phrases bring people to this site. One search this week was "Actual Victim Impact Statements".
The sadly ironic thing is, I did that exact search before I started writing mine. What do you say? How can you encapsulate years of pain and betrayal into one piece of paper? All of the stuff I found online ended up being like the piece of paper I got from the judicial system, a series of questions that made me feel victimized all over again.
Because, as all people who have gone through this can attest to, we are ALL THE SAME. OUR STORIES ARE IDENTICAL AND THUS WE MUST FIT OUR EXPERIENCES INTO THE EXACT SAME SET OF QUESTIONS.
If you're here, doing a search for victim impact statements, all I can offer is the text of what I said in court.
And we are NOT all the same. We do NOT have the same experiences. And NEVER let ANYONE, including that niggling voice in the back of your own brain, tell you that you shouldn't write your own statement.
Don't feel like a failure if you can't read your own statement. You can have someone else do that for you.
The content of my impact statement is as follows:
I’m here as ______’s mother and for 17 years, the wife of Tracy Shaddox. I’m supposed to somehow verbalize the devastation that this man has brought down upon our family.
The only way I know to preface my statement is to say that I know what it’s like to be the survivor of sexual abuse because I am one.
Tracy has been very articulate during the omnibus hearing in letting us know that he has become enlightened during his therapy regarding his own victimization as a youth and how it led to what he is today.
But what does that say for _____? What does that say for me, the parent that now bears the sole responsibility for holding the safety net beneath her as she goes out into the world? She’ll be more likely to drink or take drugs to dull the emotional pain that her father has caused her. She’ll be more likely, and I can fully attest to this, enter into abusive or unhealthy relationships. She’ll be more likely to engage in self mutilation or attempt suicide. All because of the choice her father made when she was 9 years old.
And no matter how he frames his story, it all comes down to one thing: choice.
We can’t control what other people do to us but we can control how we react to it. Tracy knew I was a survivor of sexual abuse. All he would have had to do was open his mouth and tell me that he needed help. There is no stronger ally that a victim of sexual abuse has than another victim. But he didn’t ask for help. He perpetuated the cycle.
How will _____ understand what it is like to be in a normal relationship when her first sexual experience was with her father? How will she ever learn that there are good and decent men in this world when the most important man in her life did this to her? I live in fear that ____ will fall into the trap that I fell into. She won’t think she is worthy to be treated well. She’ll do the same thing that I did and suffer through years of a miserable marriage because she won’t think she deserves better.
But being _____’s safety net is only half of my battle. Every waking moment of my life since I found this out has been me, asking myself, how come I failed my daughter? The only job I ever cared about with every fiber of my being was my job as a mother. I told my kids when they were little that there were bad people in the world. I told them not to accept candy from strangers. I told them not to get into strange cars. But I never thought I would have to warn them about their own father.
Tracy isn’t the only one going through therapy. Both ____ and I have been seeing counselors. And I have fought so hard for so many days, sometimes minute to minute, fighting the urge to just give up because of the maternal guilt that I feel.
Back when _____ was a toddler, she woke up from her nap early and came into our bedroom where her father and I were having sex. I remember trying to grab my robe and escort her out of the room and Tracy tried to stop me by saying “Let’s just keep doing it in front of her. It’ll be funny.” And being the survivor of sexual abuse, I totally freaked out and got her out of the room and it haunted me for days. But instead of confronting him, I took the easy way out. I said nothing.
I also live with the fact that, as I do the math and figure out when he was abusing ____, he asked me once, during sex, to call him “daddy”. I can recall it like yesterday because it instantly made me want to throw up. I now live with the fact that he was fantasizing about having sex with our daughter when he was having sex with me.
There are days that I can’t even stand to live in my own skin.
I stand here a failure. I failed to protect my daughter from the only man that I ever trusted.
I don’t care how much progress Tracy says he has made in therapy. I know him now as an adulterer and a pedophile. He has been a master manipulator and liar for our entire marriage.
What I care about is what he did to his daughter for three years of her young life. For three years, Tracy kept her in a prison of his own devising. This is a prison that she remains in to this day.
After her father stopped molesting _____, his attention wavered between totally ignoring her and, as I’ve recently learned, flying into fits of rage at her when they were home alone together. He would scream at her, physically shove her into the wall, and send her running up to her room, trying to get away from him. He would then stand on the other side of her bedroom door and try to bribe her, telling her that he would buy her things so long as she didn’t tell mom.
This has been _____’s life for seven year, living in an emotional prison because of the choices that her father made. Tracy is asking to serve his time locally. In other words, jail, not prison. He’s asking you for mercy.
I ask you now, what about mercy for _____? I can’t conceive of a world that would see a child put through what _____ has been through and then give her perpetrator “mercy”.
I also refute the argument that Tracy is pleading guilty because of his emotional revelations made in therapy. When I confronted him with what I had discovered, he confessed. That is why he pled guilty to you, because he already pled guilty to me. As much as I have learned how much I didn’t know about Tracy Curtis Shaddox, one thing remains true. Tracy knows me. As soon as he confessed, he knew this is exactly where we would end up. Now, he’s trying once again to manipulate the court and make the best out of a bad situation.
In that same respect, if Tracy has learned so much about what is good for his daughter’s mental health during his therapy, I ask why he showed up in court on June 8th in order to block our family from changing our last names from Shaddox. This was a specific request from _____, to separate herself as much as possible from her father. Her father obviously saw it as yet one more attempt to hurt the family that he has nearly utterly destroyed. Once again, he wanted to get his way at the expense of everyone else involved.
I may have failed my daughter when she was nine years old. I can’t fail her now.
Thank you.
*Whatever help you may have been looking for in writing a victim impact statement, I hope this was what you needed.
Good luck.
The sadly ironic thing is, I did that exact search before I started writing mine. What do you say? How can you encapsulate years of pain and betrayal into one piece of paper? All of the stuff I found online ended up being like the piece of paper I got from the judicial system, a series of questions that made me feel victimized all over again.
Because, as all people who have gone through this can attest to, we are ALL THE SAME. OUR STORIES ARE IDENTICAL AND THUS WE MUST FIT OUR EXPERIENCES INTO THE EXACT SAME SET OF QUESTIONS.
If you're here, doing a search for victim impact statements, all I can offer is the text of what I said in court.
And we are NOT all the same. We do NOT have the same experiences. And NEVER let ANYONE, including that niggling voice in the back of your own brain, tell you that you shouldn't write your own statement.
Don't feel like a failure if you can't read your own statement. You can have someone else do that for you.
The content of my impact statement is as follows:
I’m here as ______’s mother and for 17 years, the wife of Tracy Shaddox. I’m supposed to somehow verbalize the devastation that this man has brought down upon our family.
The only way I know to preface my statement is to say that I know what it’s like to be the survivor of sexual abuse because I am one.
Tracy has been very articulate during the omnibus hearing in letting us know that he has become enlightened during his therapy regarding his own victimization as a youth and how it led to what he is today.
But what does that say for _____? What does that say for me, the parent that now bears the sole responsibility for holding the safety net beneath her as she goes out into the world? She’ll be more likely to drink or take drugs to dull the emotional pain that her father has caused her. She’ll be more likely, and I can fully attest to this, enter into abusive or unhealthy relationships. She’ll be more likely to engage in self mutilation or attempt suicide. All because of the choice her father made when she was 9 years old.
And no matter how he frames his story, it all comes down to one thing: choice.
We can’t control what other people do to us but we can control how we react to it. Tracy knew I was a survivor of sexual abuse. All he would have had to do was open his mouth and tell me that he needed help. There is no stronger ally that a victim of sexual abuse has than another victim. But he didn’t ask for help. He perpetuated the cycle.
How will _____ understand what it is like to be in a normal relationship when her first sexual experience was with her father? How will she ever learn that there are good and decent men in this world when the most important man in her life did this to her? I live in fear that ____ will fall into the trap that I fell into. She won’t think she is worthy to be treated well. She’ll do the same thing that I did and suffer through years of a miserable marriage because she won’t think she deserves better.
But being _____’s safety net is only half of my battle. Every waking moment of my life since I found this out has been me, asking myself, how come I failed my daughter? The only job I ever cared about with every fiber of my being was my job as a mother. I told my kids when they were little that there were bad people in the world. I told them not to accept candy from strangers. I told them not to get into strange cars. But I never thought I would have to warn them about their own father.
Tracy isn’t the only one going through therapy. Both ____ and I have been seeing counselors. And I have fought so hard for so many days, sometimes minute to minute, fighting the urge to just give up because of the maternal guilt that I feel.
Back when _____ was a toddler, she woke up from her nap early and came into our bedroom where her father and I were having sex. I remember trying to grab my robe and escort her out of the room and Tracy tried to stop me by saying “Let’s just keep doing it in front of her. It’ll be funny.” And being the survivor of sexual abuse, I totally freaked out and got her out of the room and it haunted me for days. But instead of confronting him, I took the easy way out. I said nothing.
I also live with the fact that, as I do the math and figure out when he was abusing ____, he asked me once, during sex, to call him “daddy”. I can recall it like yesterday because it instantly made me want to throw up. I now live with the fact that he was fantasizing about having sex with our daughter when he was having sex with me.
There are days that I can’t even stand to live in my own skin.
I stand here a failure. I failed to protect my daughter from the only man that I ever trusted.
I don’t care how much progress Tracy says he has made in therapy. I know him now as an adulterer and a pedophile. He has been a master manipulator and liar for our entire marriage.
What I care about is what he did to his daughter for three years of her young life. For three years, Tracy kept her in a prison of his own devising. This is a prison that she remains in to this day.
After her father stopped molesting _____, his attention wavered between totally ignoring her and, as I’ve recently learned, flying into fits of rage at her when they were home alone together. He would scream at her, physically shove her into the wall, and send her running up to her room, trying to get away from him. He would then stand on the other side of her bedroom door and try to bribe her, telling her that he would buy her things so long as she didn’t tell mom.
This has been _____’s life for seven year, living in an emotional prison because of the choices that her father made. Tracy is asking to serve his time locally. In other words, jail, not prison. He’s asking you for mercy.
I ask you now, what about mercy for _____? I can’t conceive of a world that would see a child put through what _____ has been through and then give her perpetrator “mercy”.
I also refute the argument that Tracy is pleading guilty because of his emotional revelations made in therapy. When I confronted him with what I had discovered, he confessed. That is why he pled guilty to you, because he already pled guilty to me. As much as I have learned how much I didn’t know about Tracy Curtis Shaddox, one thing remains true. Tracy knows me. As soon as he confessed, he knew this is exactly where we would end up. Now, he’s trying once again to manipulate the court and make the best out of a bad situation.
In that same respect, if Tracy has learned so much about what is good for his daughter’s mental health during his therapy, I ask why he showed up in court on June 8th in order to block our family from changing our last names from Shaddox. This was a specific request from _____, to separate herself as much as possible from her father. Her father obviously saw it as yet one more attempt to hurt the family that he has nearly utterly destroyed. Once again, he wanted to get his way at the expense of everyone else involved.
I may have failed my daughter when she was nine years old. I can’t fail her now.
Thank you.
*Whatever help you may have been looking for in writing a victim impact statement, I hope this was what you needed.
Good luck.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Fucking You From The Big House
So, the story goes like this...
STBX get's his lawyer to pull our hearing off the docket and then the lawyer sends settlement papers to my lawyer.
Agreeing to everything except, mysteriously, forgetting anything and everything about the name change.
When my lawyer called his lawyer today, he said that STBX would not agree to the name change.
"I can molest you and I can beat you down and I can make you feel stupid and irrelevant for every day of your life. And you'll keep my name and like it."
Can you imagine that his sister still thinks he's some poor lost soul? He's just such a sad little victim in all this...
Next stop? Full blown divorce court. It will not be up to STBX nor his fucking lawyer to decide what last name the children have.
I knew I should have shot him and dismembered his obese corpse while I had the chance! God Damn therapists and their non violent methods!
STBX get's his lawyer to pull our hearing off the docket and then the lawyer sends settlement papers to my lawyer.
Agreeing to everything except, mysteriously, forgetting anything and everything about the name change.
When my lawyer called his lawyer today, he said that STBX would not agree to the name change.
"I can molest you and I can beat you down and I can make you feel stupid and irrelevant for every day of your life. And you'll keep my name and like it."
Can you imagine that his sister still thinks he's some poor lost soul? He's just such a sad little victim in all this...
Next stop? Full blown divorce court. It will not be up to STBX nor his fucking lawyer to decide what last name the children have.
I knew I should have shot him and dismembered his obese corpse while I had the chance! God Damn therapists and their non violent methods!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Welcome To Your Gated Community
Since everything else has been crap today, at least I have this to soothe my soul.
Good night sweet prince. I'd sleep with one eye open for the next five years if I were you.
Good night sweet prince. I'd sleep with one eye open for the next five years if I were you.
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