Smiley Faces Don’t Make it Sweet

So I received a group text addressed to myself and my sisters from my niece, Lily.  My brother Adam is turning 50 this year.  Lily’s flying in to surprise Adam.  Then she’s driving him 2 hours away to drive a race car but she doesn’t want him to know until they get to the race track.  Then she wants to surprise him with a dinner attended by friends, coworkers, and family.  She’s asking for at least $20 toward the race car and the type of car and amount of laps depend on how much we all pitch in.  She ended the post with “PLEASE DONT TELL!”. 

This says a lot about how my family has communicated historically. 

I’ve worked very hard to rid myself of gossip.  (Please see my previous posts on the subject.)  To my knowledge, I’m the only person in my family who has admitted I was guilty of gossiping. 

Eleven minutes later I received another message from Lily which stated she had sent me a long, group text regarding her father’s birthday.  She wrote, “Can you be sure to not talk about it to anyone other than your sisters?”  She stated she wants to tell everyone “in a timely manner (smiley face) word gets out fast and it has to be a surprise”. 

I was deeply hurt by this communication.  What makes her think I’m still a gossip?  I’ve not divulged any of her secrets.  Nor have I divulged anyone else’s stories to her. 

I responded to her group text that my husband and I will contribute and attend the dinner if our health permits. 

I responded to her private message to me.  I asked her not to share anymore secrets with me if she believes she can’t trust me with them. 

Ironically, Lily is the only person in my family who has attempted to get me to share someone else’s story (GOSSIP) with her, without that person’s permission.  She tried to manipulate me emotionally at first because she’s related to the person.  Then, she attempted to justify her demand for information because it’s unhealthy to keep secrets.  That may be so, but gossip is still gossip and I’m not going to participate.  He has a right to decide whether or not he shares his story.  If I respect him, I’ll respect his right to decide what he wants to make public or keep private.  She has to make her own choice.

Now, she’s saying she sent the second text to everyone because she “just wanted to say it separately to everyone”.  Which either highlights the fact that gossip has been a family problem or is her attempt to justify her accusatory text (smiley faces don’t make it sweet).  

This Chapter Was Over Decades Ago

The Rock was sent to his next duty assignment in Japan. He married a Japanese woman. While we were married, he would often tell me he wanted to be married to an Asian woman because he was fascinated by their dark, silky hair. For some strange reason, he sent me a photo of himself with his brother-in-law, and a trivet. He looks good in a kimono.

Twenty years later, I received a phone call from someone in Chicago. My ex-husband had listed me as a referral on a housing application. I was sure I misunderstood the caller. No. The Rock had just returned stateside and needed referrals for housing. I explained I couldn’t help as I hadn’t had recent contact with my ex-husband and had no idea what kind of person he had become. I told the caller I didn’t want to malign my ex-husband, but he was not a good person while we were married. Which is why we were divorced.

How does he keep finding me?

I had moved from California to Nebraska to Idaho. I had left the military. I had remarried and had a different last name.

Why does he keep finding me?

That chapter of my life is over and has been for decades.

The 3/5-3/8 2019 School Week in Review

This week being a learning coach was mostly a blessing.  Last week, it felt like a curse.   

My 10 year old nephew Nathan is an everyday liar.  I’ve learned through conversations with other adult family members that this has been a problem for years and Nathan continues even when caught blatantly lying.  I hate being lied to.  If you lie to me and I know it, I’m going to call you out. 

This week, I remembered how much I lied at his age.  I was distrustful of everyone and lied to protect myself.  I’m like a reformed smoker who wants to force the rest of the world to stop.  I’m a recovering Control Freak!     

Nathan is lazy.  He’ll ask me for scratch paper that is the same distance from me, as from him, expecting me to retrieve it with a sly grin on his face. I haven’t told Nathan he’s lazy: he told me “I’m lazy” while smirking.  He consistently chooses what requires the least of him.  He’s in a remedial reading course (in addition to his regular Language Arts) because I was concerned he may have missed some essentials previously.  Yesterday, I observed him skipping through being read the stories and guessing at the answers until he hit upon the right one.  He lied about it even though I was standing behind him as he did it and saw with my own eyes.  It seems his reading skills problem is from his choice to do as little as possible.   

This week, we talked about how the bible says a person who’s not willing to work, shouldn’t eat.  We identified what Nathan’s work is school right now.  I’ve begun seeking opportunities to praise extra effort, regardless of the end result.  I’m a recovering Perfectionist, so I tend to be very harsh in my expectations and interactions.   

Nathan is disrespectful of his elders.  He argues with me every day.  He uses sarcasm and insinuates a lack of intelligence.  If I say get out your English book;   he responds with a sneer in his voice, “Do you mean Language Arts?”  If I tell him it’s time to take the test; he says “It’s a Quick Check.”  When an adult says no, he demands to know why.  He pulled the stitching out of one of my best chairs.  He uses other people’s belongings without asking.  He has strewn the contents of his school art kit about because he doesn’t put his belongings away unless I stand over him like a drill sergeant.     

This week, I realized that the adults in my family may be talking about and treating each other in ways that are disrespectful in front of him.  I have criticized the lesson content, the communication with people at the school, and the frequent class changes and cancellations in front of him.  Our attitude is often that if someone disagrees with us, they lack intelligence.  One of the things I said repeatedly in my former life was, “Stupid people annoy me!”  I’ve started trying to change this behavior in myself.   

Nathan rarely takes personal accountability for his actions.  He told me “Everyone lies.” when I confronted him about a lie he had just told me.  He has blamed shoddy schoolwork on myself and his grandmother.  He blames low assessment grades on poorly written questions and not being taught the material.  This week, we discussed the fact that we’re both Christians and will have to give an accounting to God someday and that God won’t want to hear what anyone else did when we’re discussing what we did.   

This week I put up new verses and we talked about what they mean and how they apply to us.  Luke 17:2 is my verse for the week, “It would be better for them (me) to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around their neck than to cause one of these little ones (Nathan) to stumble.”  As an adult Christian in my nephews life, I’m a representative of God.  He learns who God is by observing who I am.  If I don’t behave in a way which is deserving of respect; how is he supposed to respect God?  If I use scripture (God’s word) to beat this child and fill him with shame; then he’ll believe God sees him as worthless and unredeemable.  

Nathan came prepared to listen and do this week.  He didn’t lie to me until Friday.  He didn’t attempt to skip lesson material without permission until Friday.  He suffered some natural consequences (instead of me trying to force a different behavior)  for not following directions and had to use “free time” to complete some assignments he didn’t finish during assigned school time because he was stalling or refused to follow directions.  I had many opportunities to praise him. 

Red Flags to Avoid

As pervasive as abuse is, it’s important that we’re aware of red flags while we’re selecting our life partners. Better to completely avoid becoming entangled with an abuser. Survivors can easily connect with an abuser because we’re comfortable with the relationship dynamics with them. It’s what we know.

According to “Mending the Soul: Understanding and Healing Abuse” by Steven R. Tracy, the general characteristics of abusers include denial of responsibility, deceitfulness, harshly judgmental of others and calculated intimidation. I agree with this conclusion as it’s what I experienced at the hands of my abuser.

My evil step-father Dick was extremely judgmental. He seemed to hate everyone. He was misogynistic. He had nothing nice to say about women ever. He was also racist. Basically, it seems he hated everyone but himself and other pasty-faced white men. Yes, I still have a lot of animosity toward him. In retrospect, I think he was comparing himself to others and finding reasons so he could believe he was superior to them. At some level, he may have known his behaviors were wrong; however, he never had to look at his own shortcomings because he was busy badmouthing others for what he perceived as their problems.

We moved to a town which had a sign on its border which said (I apologize profusely) “No niggers, spicks, or chinks allowed.” He would say the “n*****” were trying to take over the world by interbreeding with white women. I was astounded by his ignorance. He would see a girl walking down the street and proclaim she was a whore and he could tell by the way she walked and dressed. He would tell me all women were alike if you turned them upside down.

My evil step-father Dick also used intimidation to keep myself and my siblings in line. I don’t remember Dick making any direct threats: I just felt this constant, overwhelming sense of dread. I knew I was going to be subjected to more abuse because my best was never good enough. I’m in a constant state of alert because I’m always expecting more suffering to come my way.

When it was time for a spanking, Dick would send me to get his belt. If I was crying, he would spank me until I stopped. If I was not crying when the beating began, he would spank me until I cried.

I wasn’t allowed normal emotions. I was allowed anger.

I split my knee open playing tag in the dark and was crying when I came inside the house. Dick was there and told me to stop crying or he’d let me bleed to death. I stopped. He put rubbing alcohol on my open wound; and I passed out from the pain.

He was always threatening to “wipe that look off your face” or “give you something to cry about.”

Abusers are master manipulators and use all kinds of strategies to trap their victims for as long as possible. I believed I had little to no power as a child. At 11 years old, I began planning my escape by trying to save up enough money to leave my childhood home. I believed that was the only solution.

People were always complimenting my parents for how well-behaved their children were in public. We were terrified of being beaten by Dick when we got home.

No one knew the truth. I didn’t know how to ask for help. When I finally tried, I was dismissed by a health care “professional” as a dramatic teen. My maternal grandmother sensed something was wrong but didn’t know how to ferret out the truth. What my childhood family showed the world was a lie.

Moving to Humboldt County

My son Fergus told me that he was moving to California with his girlfriend Joanna and my granddaughters. Joanna’s parents were offering to help set them up and Fergus would be able to work in their business.

Joanna’s mother hated Fergus so much she chose not to attend the birth of her second granddaughter because Fergus was there. Mrs. Hope had been working in property management in the same state we lived in but her husband had told her she needed to retire and return to their home in Humboldt County. He insisted.

Mrs. Hope had met her husband while he was a pastor and still married to his first wife. He left wife number one to marry Mrs. Hope.

I begged Fergus to reconsider when he told me her parents were illegal drug farmers in Humboldt County and had work for himself and his girlfriend, their daughter Joanna. I pointed out that the business is not only illegal but highly dangerous. I asked him if he realized he’d be in California away from his own family supports and surrounded by her large family. Fergus told me they would make a lot of money, enough to support their family and moved.

I’ve disagreed with marijuana criminalization since I’ve been an adult; however, illegal is illegal, and I don’t condone breaking the law. My biggest concern was the inherent danger involved. Humboldt County has the largest number of missing persons reported out of all California counties.

Fergus and Joanna claimed they would make good money working for her parents; however, they’re all broke. They started off living in a decent little home, which was older but charming. Fergus and Joanna seemed to bounce between being flush with cash or completely broke. They asked me for financial assistance on more than one occasion. I eventually stopped making loans to them when they didn’t pay them back.

They had to leave the house they were staying in when $100,000 was stolen from them in a drug deal gone bad. They had to move from their modest home into a travel trailer with their four children.

Joanna continued to work as a drug mule for her parents, taking their product across state lines. At this time, she may be unable to do this for them since she has suffered some mental health issues related to illegal drug use. Fergus is no longer involved in this business.

I don’t understand how parents can ask their child to do something illegal, which if caught could get her prison time. If you love your child, don’t you do everything possible to keep them safe? I understand they’re adults, but it’s hard to say no to your parents even if you’re grown. How can Christian parents raise their children to lie, cheat and break the law? This is not the fruit the bible says true Christians will exhibit.

I realize this is hearsay and there’s probably a lot I don’t know. This account is what I believe happened.

I Wanna Be Right!

As an abused child, my step-dad Dick told me over and over how wrong I was and led me to believe he might love me IF I did something, anything right. 

I became an adult abuse survivor who desperately needed to be right, so I could be worthy and loved. 

I learned in 12-step meetings to ask myself “Do I wanna be right? Or do I wanna be happy?”  Most of the time, this questions allows me to let go of an argument and my need to win it. 

Exception found. 

For some reason, having a 7 or 10 year old argue with me drives me to the edge of madness! 

Me:          On the next slide, you’ll be taking a quiz.

Student:   It’s a quiz check. 

Day after day, for crying out loud, it’s an assessment!  They’re all assessments and it doesn’t make you any smarter by arguing with me again and again! 

Me:          Go to the next slide and reread the text.

Student:   I’ve already done this.

Me:          Do it again. 

Student:   But I’ve already done this.

Me:          I know, read it again, the slide says REread.

Student:   But that’s not fair, I’ve already read it!

Day after day, lesson after lesson.  Quit arguing with me and do what I’ve asked you to do!

Me:          Let’s start with Math today.

Student:   Aw, I wanted to do Language Arts first. 

Another day. 

Me:          Let’s start with Language Arts today.

Student:   Can’t we start with Art today?

Day after day.  Power struggle after power struggle.

Me:           Why did you skip slide 10?

Student:    I didn’t. 

Me:           You were just on slide 9, now you’re on slide 11.  Did you watch the videos?

Student:    No. 

Me:           Why not?

Student:    I didn’t think I needed to.

Me:           Where’s your notebook (where he has written he won’t skip parts of the lessons without my express permission.)?

Student:   My brother took it home.

Minutes later, I pull out both of his notebooks. 

Me:           Why did you tell me your brother took your notebook home?

Student:    I didn’t. 

What am I missing here?  Day after day. 

And at the end of the day? 

Damn it! 

I want to be right! 

The Common Denominator

I was at another 12-step meeting.  I’d already been to one that day and now I was double-dipping. 

My husband had asked if he could use my car to go watch a soccer game his friends were playing in.  I agreed.  He didn’t come home for 3 days.  We only had one car between us, so I was stranded all weekend. 

He didn’t call me until he was out of money and had no gasoline to get back home from the casino, which was hours away. 

I sent him just enough cash by Western Union to get home (not like in the past when he had padded the amount he needed so he could go back in and gamble some more).  He had my car and I needed it to get to work. 

I was hurt.  I cried all weekend.  We’d been through this before and I was realizing I couldn’t trust him.  He’s a gambler and a liar. 

I didn’t know if I could be in a relationship with someone I couldn’t trust, (More on this later.) so I was freaking out. 

I didn’t really know the people at this second meeting but I was desperate.  I poured my heart out.  I cried.  I was distraught. 

Afterward, a woman asked me if I’d like to have coffee.  I did. 

We sat and talked.  I told her the sordid details of my three prior marriages and divorces.  I told her all about the issues my ex-husbands had.  She asked me, “What’s the common denominator?” 

I kept on telling her about the shortcomings of my exes.  I’d heard her question but only in the edges of my conscience because it didn’t make sense.  They had problems.  I didn’t. 

She asked again, just as quietly, “What’s the common denominator?”

I stopped.  Dumbstruck.  I sheepishly responded, “I am.”

For the first time in my life, I looked at my marriages objectively and realized I was the common denominator.  I chose each of those partners. 

This was a pivotal point in my recovery because I started taking accountability for my part, the part I can change. 

I realized that each of my chosen partners had addiction issues of some kind:  alcohol, drugs and gambling. 

I loved addicts.  I hated addicts.  I was comfortable with these relationships as I’d lived them my entire life.  I was miserable and wanted something different and better. 

I kept going back and as a result I’m no longer the person I used to be.  I make better choices.  . 

She Was a Doozy!

Where to begin?

I’ve had many jobs: babysitting, Dairy Queen, gas station, McDonald’s, county treasurer’s office, yogurt shop, Army National Guard, convenience store, Montgomery Ward, regular Air Force, bagging groceries, waitressing, and a major insurance company. I stayed at the insurance company 19 years. I left because I was returning to my hometown to marry and it wasn’t possible to transfer.

I’ve never been fired from a job. I’ve always exceeded the expectations of my supervisors. I’ve had many, many supervisors. Some were great, some weren’t. I figured out what each of them wanted and how to get along with all of them. Except one. The last one. Oh, and she was a doozy!

Her name is Shenehneh Booker. She’s a beautiful, intense, opinionated, vocal, intelligent, passionate woman. She spent the first year telling me what to do, do this, do that, do this, do that. Yes, I was learning how to do things, but I had no understanding of why I was doing it or how it fit into the grand scheme of what we were supposed to be doing. Protecting children.

I’m passionate about children. They are vulnerable and should be protected. They are our future. I was a child once and no one saved me from my step-father Dick. I wish someone had. I’ve been wanting to do something like this since my early 20s.

She seemed to enjoy making other people look small. She would reprimand and ridicule people in public. She would call you into her office, shut the door, get so close your knees were almost touching, then tell you how angry she was about a mistake you’d made. She would tell you how no one was going to have your back if you made a mistake. She would come to your desk and berate you for not doing whatever was currently the thing she wanted from you most. Other people told me she called them stupid and told them they’d never succeed. Other people told me to beware. Other people told me she would choose a victim and then systematically ruin them. I chose to hope for the best.

I was disappointed.

She was the only person who complained about my efforts and my results. Every other person had nothing but positive notes and encouragement for me.

Too many children, not enough time. Too many time-sensitive criteria, not enough time. Too vague training, not enough time. Too many late reports, not enough time. Too many unasked questions, not enough time. Too little help and change, not enough time.

I often wondered if we were doing more harm than good. Sometimes it was evident that intervention was needed. The gray areas seemed to outnumber the black and white.

I would wake up in the middle of the night wondering if a particular child was okay or if I needed to do something more. I would wake up in the middle of the night with my stomach in knots and my heart in my throat; physically sick at the thought of what I had seen and what might happen next and that I had to get up in a few hours and do it all over again.

I had to do it. I believe God brought me to this position. I believe I was obedient to Him. I believe He taught me a lot about myself and others. I believe he put me in situations where I was able to love others on His behalf. I believe if I hadn’t done it, I’d always have regretted it and wished I’d had the opportunity.

All my childhood, I heard how stupid and ugly and worthless I was. I believed it. I spent most of my adulthood trying to heal myself. I couldn’t. I learned to trust God through a 12-step program. I’m surrendered to God. God has healed me. I have serenity, a full range of emotions, the ability to have a loving intimate relationship, healthy boundaries with my family and friend, hope and positivity, gratefulness, and joy.

I no longer live in denial.

Shenehneh is abusing her direct reports verbally and emotionally. She has created an unsafe work environment. She enjoys demeaning and hurting vulnerable adults. She provoked the same emotional and physical responses in me that I felt as a child being abused by my step-dad. She told me to take better emotional care of myself and mocked my recovery on one hand, while verbally attacking me on the other.

I lasted a year and a half, much longer than the average. I did my job to the best of my abilities and training. I treated everyone with respect. I treated myself with love, honesty, kindness, and respect. I did not allow another person’s actions to cause me to lower my personal standards.

Dishing Some Dirt About Myself

I’m a gossip. A tittle-tattler. A meddler.

My definition of gossip is now talking about someone when that person is not present in the conversation. The intent of the person talking has no bearing on whether or not it’s gossip.

Something had to change.

I talked to God about it and confessed it as sin. I asked Him to help me stop since it was a lifetime habit and I didn’t even know how to begin to change. I talked to my sponsor and 12 step friends about it. After decades of gossip, I knew I couldn’t possibly locate and make amends to all the people I’d talked about behind their backs. I decided to focus on the people I was most likely to continue to gossip about or with.

This is how gossip, typically, played out in my life. I have a loving mother and three siblings she gave birth to in my life. My Mom is Peony. My brother is Adam. My sisters are Tammi and Rhonda. I have a plethora of extended family. Tammi and I would be at Peony’s and we would end up talking about problems Adam was facing and how he could resolve them. Adam wasn’t present. Rhonda and I would go out to lunch and end up talking about problems Mom was facing and how she could resolve them. Mom wasn’t present. Rarely did I go to the person for whom we were brainstorming solutions to share our ideas with them.

I spoke with Mom, Adam, Tammi, and Rhonda. I spoke with my sons, Fergus and Samson. I explained to each of them that I had realized I’m a gossip and I was determined to change. I confessed I had gossiped about each of them. I apologized for being disrespectful both in gossiping about them and in thinking I could solve their problems or even needed to solve them. I told them, going forward, I would not be speaking about them unless they’re present.

It was awkward at first. What do you talk about when you’ve always talked about other people you both know when you get together? Well, you eventually start talking about yourselves. You share more deeply than you ever have before if the person you’re talking to is someone you care about and are safe with. Some family members were offended. Some were hurt. Some were glad I’d finally figured this out about myself.

It is something I still struggle with a bit. Sometimes my unwillingness to gossip is viewed as disrespectful to the person who wants me to tell them details about another person’s life. Sometimes it’s viewed as denial or keeping secrets. Relationships are complicated. My interactions with a loved one may affect me so deeply that I need to discuss it with someone else, now I talk to a 12 step friend rather than another loved one. Sometimes it’s unavoidable: a discussion between two family members must be had when a third family member is incapacitated by health.

I try to follow a few guidelines:

1) Don’t talk about the person if they’re not there.

2) Don’t share someone else’s story.

3) Choose a couple of  non-relatives who are safe to run things past. 

4) Ask myself, “What’s Your Motive?”

5) Direct the person asking for detail about someone else to speak to the someone else directly.

My two sons, Fergus and Samson, are examples of the opposite extremes people feel about the details of their lives being shared by others. Perfectly natural to ask a sibling about their children. Right? I have 10 nieces and nephews. It’s much easier to ask 3 siblings for updates on their children, than to contact the 10 nieces and nephews. It also conveys to the sibling that I love them, and I love their children. Right? My son Fergus could care less if you talk about him. If he’s having successes, he wants his family to celebrate with him. If he’s having problems, he wants our prayers. My son Samson is the opposite, he doesn’t want to be talked about whether it’s good or bad. Period. He is highly offended when he discovers someone has talked about him. Neither is right or wrong, it’s just their preference. I do my best to respect their wishes.

Today, my relationships with the people I love are more honest and respectful.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject of gossip!

The Destruction of a Family

Since Ariel’s birth, Fergus and Joanna’s relationship has deteriorated as Joanna realized Fergus is not going to marry her even though they share a child together. She’s always been a brusque woman. She’s emotionally damaged from a bad relationship with her mother. Her mother is very controlling. Joanna ran away from home as a young teen. Although she returned, their relationship is strained.

Joanna became verbally abusive to my son after she realized he was not going to marry her. Thanksgiving 2015, Fergus and Joanna brought the girls to Washington state to celebrate with myself and my other adult son Samson. Samson lived closest to the restaurant Joanna chose for our shared meal, so we all stayed with him. He didn’t have enough bedrooms, so most of us slept in the living room. Joanna was on the couch and I was in a sleeping bag on the floor. In the middle of the night, I was wakened by Joanna yelling at Fergus to come get Ariel to change her diaper and how she had been up all night changing diapers for the girls and taking kids to the bathroom while he did nothing. Fergus responded in a reasonable tone and reported there were no dirty diapers in the trash; so her claim was untrue and he was up and taking care of the dirty diaper. Joanna continued to loudly berate him; despite the fact that it was the middle of the night, the diaper was being changed, and there was a household of sleeping relatives and their four children she was disturbing with her tirade.

Joanna started attempting to control me through phone calls and texts demanding that I assist her in controlling Fergus and making him do what she wanted. I explained to her on many occasions she can only control herself and she needed to identify her part in the problems in their relationship and fix her part, because that’s what she could control. This frustrated her a great deal. At one point, she decided I was a horrible person and would not allow me to even talk to my granddaughters on the phone. She called me a drug pusher for following doctor’s recommendations when Fergus was a child to treat his ADHD, stating that I’d given him meth. She sent me unsolicited private details about their sex life. She sent random texts to Samson’s girlfriend telling her how to raise her child and to stay out of Joanna’s business.

In late 2016, Fergus informed me they were living in a travel trailer and Joanna had decided she wanted to have sex with other men in the trailer while Fergus watched their children. He was not agreeable to that plan. He also indicated she was using illegal drugs intravenously and hiding the needles in the woods around her parents’ home. She was shooting up in her legs and was telling people the bruising she was causing was because he was getting physical with her. Fergus became homeless when she moved the trailer to her parents’ property and kicked him out. He was very concerned about her erratic behaviors and the effects on the girls.

Joanna disappeared in 2017 while on a business trip for her parents in another state. Neither Fergus, nor her parents, nor her daughters knew how to get in touch with her. She was eventually found in a mental health hospital recovering from the effects of illegal drug use. During this time, Fergus went to court to get custody of his daughters back because Joanna’s parents had them and would not return them to Fergus or even allow visitation. Fergus was unable to get custody of Carmen because she is not his biological or legal child, despite parenting and loving her for years. He was awarded full custody of the other three girls: Amiya, Beatrice and Ariel. Fergus has made certain the girls have a relationship with their mother and their maternal grandparents and extended family.

Joanna returned to California but wasn’t mentally able to parent. She left the state a second time to go to rehabilitation in another state. For the second time in their young lives, the girls’ mother disappeared with no way for them to contact her. She returned the end of 2018 and told Fergus she was planning to marry someone she met during her last extended period away from her children.

She has no job, no home and limited mental functioning. Fergus made certain she spent time with the girls and was in the process of setting up supervised visitation when she filed a motion requesting an order of protection claiming he has stolen from her and raped her.

It’s safe to say this family has been destroyed by drugs and addictions.

Troll Assault

I met Willie in high school.  I fell hard.  I professed to be a Christian but I didn’t trust God and was doing my own thing while giving God lip service.  Willie wasn’t a Christian.  He asked me to have sex with him.  I thought it over and told God, “I love him and I’m going to marry him so it’s okay for us to have sex now.”
A little while after we began having sex, I got pregnant.  I was terrified.  I told Willie and he said “Okay, let’s get married.”  I told him we were too young.  I miscarried a few days later, so we didn’t marry or even tell anyone about it. 
Willie had taken me to a party out in the desert.  There was a lot of alcohol drinking going on and I’m sure even some drugs.  Willie was drinking.  I don’t remember if I was but I don’t believe my judgment was cloudy if I did drink.  I didn’t start drinking heavily until after the following incident occurred.
Willie was a fighter and someone had told him a fellow student he had a beef was at the party.  Willie told me he was going to have his friend give me a ride home.  I was disappointed but Willie is not the kind of person you argue with. 
Instead of taking me home, Willie’s friend Troll parked in the desert and sexually assaulted me.  During the assault, all I could think about was Willie is going to be so pissed.  I had no idea how to stop it.  Due to childhood sexual abuse, I had no boundaries and no idea that I could say “no” forcefully and perhaps stop what was being done to me.  Part of me believed I deserved it. 
The next night, I told Willie what happened while I cried and cried.  Afterward, I clung to Willie as if my life depended on him. I knew he was the man I would marry.  I knew I would love him until my last breath.
I don’t know what lies Troll told Willie, but Willie and he showed up at my home one night a short time later.  Willie was drunk, banging on my window, and calling me names like “whore” and “slut”.  Troll was standing next to him egging him on.  I was devastated but I didn’t want Willie to get in trouble, so I asked him to leave and told him we could talk when he was sober.  He asked me to come out to talk to him. 
I headed to the front door, but my step-father Dick was standing next to the front door against the wall and he told me to go back to my room.  As I returned to my room, I saw my mom standing in her bedroom door.  I went in my room, went back to my window, and told Willie he needed to leave before my step-father called the police and we could talk the following day.   
I felt like I was a worthless, unlovable failure and I attempted suicide.  My behavior was out of control.  I started drinking all day and night, skipping school, and sleeping around.  My mom sent me to visit my biodad in Georgia, with my sister Tammi.  It was the first time we’d met our biodad. 
A few months later, I heard Willie had been in a motorcycle accident and was severely injured.  I called him and we finally spoke, but he told me he hated me and never wanted to speak to me again and seemed to be planning to commit suicide.
My heart hurt so bad, I pushed the memories and feelings deeply into my subconscious and Willie became a high school crush  who I thought had died after a motorcycle accident. 
I will love Willie until my last breath. 

Another Day in Court

Fergus is an amazing dad. He’s affectionate. He’s in constant teaching mode, using everyday moments to educate his daughters. He shops organic food and feeds them healthy, colorful, tasty food he creates himself from scratch. He takes them on adventures in the outdoors frequently. He maintains extended family relationships. The girls are well cared for emotionally and physically. They are well loved. They want for nothing. For the last year, he has had full physical and legal custody of Amiya, Beatrice and Ariel.

Joanna, his ex, has no job, no home, and seems to have cognitive damage caused by drug use. She’s living in a car someone purchased for her. She has attempted to use manipulation, sex and children to control and coerce Fergus into doing what she desires. However, that has not stopped her from filing an order of protection with the courts alleging Fergus of burglary, theft, and rape. Fergus found out about the order and the allegations when he as at the courthouse researching what he needed to do to ask the court to require mediation for the purpose of determining appropriate, supervised visitation.

He couldn’t tell if he could, legally, have the girls with him. He contacted the police and they told him the order had not been granted and they had an upcoming court date to go over the allegations. A few days later, he’s taking Beatrice to a school Christmas presentation, when Joanna shows up with a police officer who told Fergus the order was granted, and he had to turn custody over. He did. The following day, he turned Ariel over to Joanna.

They had court this week.

Since Ariel’s birth, Fergus and Joanna’s relationship has deteriorated as Joanna realized Fergus is not going to marry her even though they share a child together. Joanna became verbally abusive to my son, she kicked him out and moved their travel trailer to her parent’s property.

In early 2017, Joanna left the girls with her parents and went on a business trip for them to Idaho. She did not return when expected and was missing for months. Joanna was eventually found in a hospital where she’d been put after being discovered along the side of a road, unable to tell anyone who she was or what was wrong with her. This was apparently the result of extensive drug use. While she was missing, her parents refused to allow access to the girls for my son or myself. When I called, they refused to call back and the one or two occasions they did answer, they hung up on me.

Fergus went to court on multiple occasions to get custody of Amiya, Beatrice, and Ariel as Joanna’s parents refused to return them to him. Mr. and Mrs. Hope have not allowed Carmen to have contact with myself, and only limited contact with her sisters. Fergus encouraged contact between the girls and their mother’s extended family. He did not bring kidnapping charges against Mr. and Mrs. Hope when they refused to return his daughters to him, even after ordered to do so by the court.

Joanna eventually returned to California. She was mentally unable to appropriately care for her children. She was living in the travel trailer on her parent’s property. Fergus allowed as much contact between her and the girls as possible, while maintaining their safety. Joanna would contact Fergus and tell him they needed to get together to talk about the girls, he would pick her up and she would refuse to speak to him, sitting in silence as if catatonic for hours in restaurants, on his couch, and even on the sidewalk in front of his residence. During this time, she sent me a letter of apology with artwork from my granddaughters telling me she would call. She thanked me for my son and told me she loved me. She never called and when I sent a reply, it was returned undeliverable.

Joanna took off again in 2018 to go to treatment in another state. She only recently returned to California. Both times Joanna disappeared for lengthy periods of time, she left no way for her daughters to maintain contact with her.

Fergus has tried to treat Joanna with dignity and respect, and even gave her financial support he didn’t owe her. He put a deposit on a motel room, so Joanna had a place to stay since her parents have her ex living in the trailer on their property and aren’t willing to have her live in their home.

Joanna appeared at court unprepared and the judge granted her a continuance even though Fergus was ready with his evidence. Their next court date isn’t for about 3 weeks.

Dashed Hopes for Vertigo Solution

Ugh! I need to write about this but I really don’t want to because there’s a part of me that believes by talking about it I’m focusing too much attention on it and inviting negativity into my life. I don’t want to deny it’s happening either. I guess I’m hoping that if I don’t talk about it, it’ll go away. It could go away as quickly as it started. 

I have vertigo. I don’t know why it’s happening or how to make it go away. I was a “normal” person working a “regular” job until mid-August 2018. In a way, it feels like karma because I have worked since I was 11 years old and have always harshly judged people who claimed disabilities I couldn’t see this. If you saw me, you probably wouldn’t realize I have an issue as I’m using coping skills like wall walking and using something on wheels to stabilize me as I walk. Some of my triggers are: light, noise, and commotion.

I am dizzy more often than not. The dizziness causes me to be nauseous most of the time. I’m also constantly trying to compensate for the feeling that I’m unbalanced which is physically and mentally exhausting. I’m frequently mentally confused now. I’ve tried exercises and medications. I’ve stopped medications hoping it was a side effect that developed over prolonged use. I’ve had a bunch of tests and seen a lot of specialists.

I had an appointment at my neurologist Dr. George Frazier.  His office is located an hour away from where I live. This was a follow up visit to my first visit with him in mid-November. He had asked for some tests to include an MRI, blood tests and an ultrasound and left me feeling he was confident in his ability to figure this out.  I had done the MRI the morning of my appointment with him at the request of my Nurse Practitioner Samantha Tulare. I did the blood test within a week and the ultrasound within two weeks. I don’t drive right now so I have to rely on others for transportation.

Yesterday, my husband and I arrived on time and waited 45 minutes to be seen. The doctor came in and asked me “What bothers you the most?” I had no idea what he was asking. I tried to figure out what I could ask to clarify what he wanted to know but didn’t feel successful at all. He asked why I hadn’t done an MRI, I explained I did the morning of our last appointment. He told me I’d had an MRA not an MRI and they’re different. I told him a hospital employee told me they were the same thing when I called to make the appointment. That was wrong and he seemed upset with me for not knowing better. He said I need VNG and I reminded him I had that done by an audiologist. He stated he needs results and I asked if he wants me to get them and bring them to him.  Yes (glad I clarified or he wouldn’t have them for next appointment either as I thought doctors’ offices gathered this type of thing. Isn’t that the purpose of signing authorizations to release medical records? He asked why I haven’t done the EEG, nerve conduction tests, etcetera. I explained his office had called and said they were waiting on approvals from Blue Cross Blue Shield and they would call back when obtained and they never called back.

I knew some tests hadn’t been done but didn’t consider rescheduling yesterday’s appointment because I did the blood tests and ultrasound and was hoping the answer lay within those results so the others weren’t necessary. Dr. Frazier seemed quite upset with me for not doing something different. I’m not a doctor. I have no medical training beyond first aid training in basic training. I was emotionally crushed.

My husband, William, let me vent my anger, frustration and disappointment the rest of the evening. He’s such an awesome partner in life! I was angry for being held accountable for things beyond my understanding and responsibility. I’m frustrated by the medical community in this part of the country. I’m disappointed at still not knowing why the vertigo is happening or how to stop it.

I want my old life back and I get my hopes so high when I think a doctor has identified the cause or I have a few good days in a row. It hurts so much when I’m wrong.

Caught Flapping My Lips

I'm writing under a pseudonym to respect my loved ones who prefer I not reveal details of their lives.  Personally, I do not mind sharing the details of my life.  However, I'm a recovering gossip and try to be ever mindful of other people's boundaries.  I learned this lesson painfully starting with this event.

About seven years ago, my youngest son Samson and his girlfriend Callie (both adults) were living with me.  My older son's girlfriend Joanna showed up unexpectedly to visit.  I was home alone, so I invited her in, offered her a drink and sat down on the couch to chit-chat with her.  We started off talking about her frustrations with my son Fergus.  We talked about her hopes for the future.  I'm sure I gave her a lot of really great advice.  Or not.  I'm not certain why but I began sharing with her my hopes and fears for the future of my younger son and his girlfriend.  Everything I said was motivated by a mother's love.  At least that's what I believed at the time.

The next morning, Samson told me they needed to talk to me.  He told me they had been in their room the night before and heard the entire conversation between myself and Joanna.  He was hurt and disappointed.  My heart sank.  My face became hot from shame.  I apologized to my son and his girlfriend but the damage was already done.  I was confused about my behavior, my intentions, and the results.  I'm still trying to earn back his trust.

Everything I'll be writing about is true.  The names of all participants will be changed to protect the privacy of the other people involved in my life.