[Bad] Dream of a Memory

Do you know anyone that’s ever been abused? Any sort of abused? I do. I have. I was. Many forms, by different people at different times in my life. Most of the time, though, it was on repeat by one person: my stepfather.

For the most part I’ve gotten over it. While my mother is still, unfortunately, married to the man that treated me so badly throughout my childhood and adolescent years (and even now he bad mouths and talks down to me, but I’ve grown more of a back bone and will talk back to him despite fear of retribution), most of my communication with my mother is via telephone as she lives over an hour away and she works over 8 hours a day, every day, every week with the [very] occasional day off; she’s the main “breadwinner” of their household as my stepdad is (surprise-surprise!) a convicted felon & although he could find work at, the very least, a manufacturing plant, he refuses to work anything other than odd jobs that he runs himself.

Therefore, my communication with that entire household is limited.

And my mother.

I love her. I do. I may not always agree with everything she says. I may not agree with everything she does, especially the fact that she’s still with my stepdad, but I love her nonetheless. I will acknowledge her faults, though most of the time not to her face because she won’t most of the time. She confides in me and I, her. We understand each other because of, oddly enough, my stepfather. We have a mutual understanding between us and I’m thankful to her that, although she’s my mother, my Mom, she chose to have me live apart from her.

And that’s where everything comes full circle as to why I’m writing this tonight.

I woke up around three this morning, my eyes wide and in a panic. I knew I was in bed and if it wasn’t for the fact that my husband’s arms were still around me I probably would have screamed.

I dreamt of a memory of days long since past. It was nearly 9 years ago – the winter of 2005 – and I was living with my mother in the home she lives in now. It’s a small, technically one-bedroom, house that at the time housed my Mom & stepdad in what is now a closet; my two younger brothers, who were then 6 & 8 years old in what is now a combined living room/Mom & stepdad’s room; and me, in what is now my youngest brother’s room, that back then was right next to my mother and stepfather’s “room” and only separated by a sheet. There was no privacy whatsoever. It was Hell on Earth.

Normally I wouldn’t be living with them; I abhor my stepfather and nearly always have, but my Grandmother, whom I had been staying with, gave me an ultimatum that pushed me and I took it. I wasn’t going to give up a friendship for her old-fashioned ideals, but that’s a different topic altogether. So I found myself moving 45 minutes away and switching schools in the middle of the fall semester my first year of high school. My mother was happy that I was finally coming to live with her, but she wasn’t happy about the circumstances behind it. Honestly, everything was going well until the last day of school before winter break.

One of my friends, specifically a male friend, asked if he could come over and hang out for a bit after school. I told him I’d ask. I was more than naïve back then, I guess; he purposely left information out to me and I didn’t see the signs. Either way, we both got permission for him to come over and he rode the bus home with me. I’m going to point this out now: I never thought of him as anything more than a friend; he was JUST a friend to me in my mind. Well, apparently everybody else thought otherwise – including him.

He ended up eating dinner with my family because his mom hadn’t picked him up yet. When I asked him why she hadn’t shown up yet, he said that she wouldn’t be there till around 9PM. I was pissed! He never told me that and I knew, at that moment, I was going to get hell from my stepdad as soon as he left.

I was right.

After he left and my brothers were firmly asleep my stepdad started in on me and it just kept coming. I don’t remember everything he said; he asked me so many questions – accusing me of lying when I hadn’t and every time I denied lying he just got angrier.

What I haven’t said yet is that my stepfather is an alcoholic. I know by that time he was drunk for sure, but I couldn’t tell you how long he’d been drinking that day.

Finally, at one point, I was sent to bed. I think it was around 11-11:30 that evening. I was tired. I’d had a long day at school and then I’d been grilled and yelled at and intimidated by my stepfather. Nobody likes that. I fell asleep listening to him yell at my Mom, but the words were a blur to me, even then.

I was woken up again around 1AM, being dragged – literally – out of bed by my arm by my stepfather. He was pissed, and that’s an understatement. I don’t remember what the discussion at that point was about. I was being questioned again about my actions that evening and why I did what and several other co-existing categories. I remember answering something honestly and it must have been the wrong answer, and something that he disliked extremely or considered a “smart-ass remark” because the next thing I knew I was dodging a glass plate being thrown at me. If I hadn’t moved it would have hit my upper left shoulder near my neck. I don’t remember much after that other than crying and being scared.

I moved back to my Grandmother’s within days after that. I don’t think anyone would question why. It was my Mom’s decision to move me back.

The thing is, this is only one of the instances of something abusive happening to me but for some reason it’s the one that pops up the most in my memory, in my dreams; it’s the one that troubles me the most and I don’t understand why.

I was scared then and it scarred me enough mentally and emotionally that it still bothers me to this day, enough to keep me awake at night. The abuse I’ve suffer throughout my life from my stepfather, and inadvertently from my mother, is probably the one thing that I haven’t completely gotten over and I’m not sure that I ever will. I think that’s what scares me.

Now it’s not the terror of being physically dragged away from my bed in the middle of the night by someone else; now it’s the terror of waking up and having to drag myself from my own bed because of someone else… because I’m afraid to face what might be in my dreams.

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Never Woulda Guessed

I’m excited about this. I have to post it.

I went to court earlier this week. I was so nervous. It was against my ex; I was suing him for full custody, back support, and to raise the child support that I’m supposed to be getting. I was afraid of the things he could say; even though I knew I had the advantage I was afraid he would lie about something. Or exaggerate. Anything. I was afraid. Nervous to a worrisome extent.

Then I got to the courthouse with my fiance and a couple friends, meeting my lawyer there 30 minutes before everything started. My lawyer and I discussed everything while my friends kept a look out for my ex, who hadn’t arrived yet. Occasionally they were asked questions too, but that wasn’t a big deal.

The big deal was that by the time court was due to start my ex had not shown up. We deduced that he wasn’t going to.

After vigorous questioning by my lawyer, since it was a fill-in judge in place of the original judge on the case so we had to bring him up-to-date, and giving the judge the “evidence” from the past couple of months, I was astounded by what was decided. I didn’t know it could go the way that it did since my ex wasn’t present.

I was awarded full custody with visitation only when arranged prior with me, with my permission and supervision only. Child support was raised to the maximum per week, which totals to over $1000 per month. And I was awarded all the back support my ex owes me for the past year, which is quite a lot.

Now, if I ever get any of the money that’s owed me is another story. :-/

I’m uber excited about the full custody thing, though! That was my main goal. Sure, the child support thing is going to help out a LOT, but I wanted my children in my care and mine alone. Joint custody obviously wasn’t working out between us and we needed something more steady, especially for the children. I just want the best for them and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s not spite or hate for my ex, even though I do dislike him with a passion; it’s love for my children. I believe in father’s rights… when they deserve it. If he hadn’t done some unforgiveable things to the children, I would have more faith and trust in him. Until he can prove otherwise, though, this is how it will be.

I don’t know why my ex didn’t show up though. He knew about the trial that day. He’d been served a notice that he had to sign for which said what we were going to court about – custody, child support, and everything. He hasn’t tried to contact me or even replied to any of the times I’ve tried to contact him via phone or other modes of communication. And that is part of why I wanted full custody: because I think he’s just dropping out of my children’s lives completely. To make a point: we actually had to search to find his address as he’d moved without giving the courts, or myself (which, legally he should have done), any sort of notification. It only took a couple of days since there were multiple people searching, but the fact of the matter is that we actually had to search for it!

I don’t know, and I’m not sure if I care or not. I do know that despite my anxiety I do believe that I would have felt better if he had come because I believe in a fair trial and without him there to defend himself, then… gah, I don’t know. I guess I just feel that it was a bit unfair, even though I got everything I wanted. Is that weird?

Life = Drama

I shouldn’t feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this and yet I do.

My life is a soap opera. It’s drama-filled and it’s never boring. I hate it. It’s never a happy drama; something bad is always happening. I could name around ten (10) things right now that aren’t even close to good, but I don’t want to rant about everything.

I only want to get one thing out of my system. I’m so stressed about it, it’s not even funny. It’s scary. I’m anxious and freaking out and crying.

I’m honestly afraid that I’m going to lose my fiance. I honestly fear that I’m going to lose the man that I love.

Why? Because I made some bad choices in my past and they keep being dredged up when he’s just managing to stop thinking about them. And it isn’t as if I like to think about what I did in my past either – I hate it and I would rather not think on it either – but it’s harder for him. We got together right afterward. As in, less than a month afterward.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, in fact I didn’t realize it until my fiance pointed it out earlier this evening to me, but I had inadvertently lied to him.

At the time my fiance and I started our relationship I was just coming out of my bar-hopping/partying/drinking/sleeping around phase that lasted a whole three months. (Not very long, right?) Well, I don’t remember exactly when I said it or in what context, but I said that I wasn’t “that kind of girl” – the kind to sleep around or lie or betray him. And to be quite honest, I’m not. I just fell for him and I fell hard. When I told him that, and I can guarantee this, I didn’t think of myself as any sort of bar slut or some sort of floozy.

But he thinks I lied to him just to get with him. I didn’t and I’m scared that he’s going to leave me. He was angry about it earlier. He made a point of telling me earlier that when he was growing up it was said that the type of woman I was weren’t the kind for relationships and the men who tried to get in relationships with them were the stupid ones because they eventually ended badly – i.e: with some sort of betrayal.

I cried so hard. I told him straight-out that at the time I didn’t think of myself that way at the time and that I really am not like that. I told him that I was sorry for inadvertantly lying to him. He didn’t say anything. He pretty much stayed quiet until he had to get ready for work.

I didn’t want him to go to work. I was… am… afraid that he’s not going to come back.

I miss him.

I love him.

I wish someone could explain to me something. Help me.

Friendship Fail.

A month or so ago I posted about my “best friend” who’s getting married later this month and we were having some difficulties because early-mid last year I was taken advantage of in a most deplorable way and he was standing up for her fiance in the wedding. I haven’t fully gotten past what happened back then and I told her that if he was going to be there, if I had to be around him so intimately [because I, too, am in the wedding] then I wasn’t going to be in the wedding and probably not even attend the ceremony or reception.

Back at my other posts, I thought we had patched things up to the point where we determined that he wasn’t going to be coming: not invited, nodda.

I found out earlier today that not only did neither she nor her fiance tell the friend (the guy who date-raped me) that he was no longer invited to the wedding or anything to do with it, I found out the exact opposite! She has been in contact with him, messaging him and questioning him “why the lack of sudden friendship? I hope there’s no hard feelings from when you moved out earlier this year”.

And no, there’s not apparently. As it turns out, “the guy” and my supposed “best friend” are still good pals and she still considers him a very close friend and is very upset with her fiance because he took his friendship with “the guy” for granted and now she’s trying to mend it. Literally. So far, in fact, that she’s trying to get him to stay in the wedding that he dropped out of being in.

Yeah, the same one that I’m in later this month that my “best friend” said he wasn’t even going to be at. Yet, here she is trying to get him to salvage his friendship with her fiance and come to the wedding “because it would mean a lot to him and he wouldn’t have invited you to stand up for him in the wedding if he wasn’t trying in the friendship”.

I’m so friggin pissed. I’m not sure many people have any idea of just how angry I really and truly am.

So basically, I’ve decided that I’ll go. My children aren’t. They’re going to be staying at my mother’s house for, at the very least, the day of the wedding. My aunt is going because MY fiance decided he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her after this particular stunt and that she isn’t worth rescheduling part of his day at work. Honestly? I’m just going to see what exactly she thinks of me. If “the guy” is there, most especially in the Bridal Party, then I’m just walking out and never speaking to her again. It will be her fault and I just don’t care. I’m at the point of almost not going anyway.

I don’t know what she must think of me, but she must think I’m just some little toy, some sort of pawn, to be used and played with and whose emotions are so easily messed with it’s not funny. She must think that I’ll forgive her for anything. And she must not believe what I told her. I’m hurt; I feel betrayed. This is truly the last straw and for more reasons than one.

She’s the reason why my fiance almost broke up with me this afternoon. And that’s a much longer story. Let’s just leave that at with her, there’s been so much drama and it’s causing him to doubt me in several ways.

I’m not a liar and he has no reason to doubt me. I’m hurt, I’m disgusted, and I’m betrayed. I will not lose one of the most important people in my life because of some petty drama. She wants drama, she’ll get it on her wedding day, especially if she’s the cause of it. Using the “but it’s my wedding day” card won’t work on me then.

And I’m normally not such a bitch. I’m just that angry and hurt.

My Past. My Ex. My Anxiety.

I have to get this out of my system. I don’t know why, all of sudden, it’s bothering me so much. I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this, forward and backward. I can’t get it out of my mind.

And so I going to write about it. I’m going to post it here.

I will forewarn you: I don’t know how long this post is going to be. Mind, I’m not going to try and make it a long post, but with what I am going to be writing, it might end up longer than anticipated. Please… if you start reading this, don’t be deterred by the long-windedness of my writing. It just kind of happens.

* * *

I was younger then. It was the beginning of a new school year and all of my friends were off to college; I never graduated high school. I was depressed. I had no idea where my life was going. Everyone was gone. I had no one.

And then He shows up.

Day by day, week by week, month by month – they all went by and I lost count. I can’t tell you exactly when everything happened or in what order. I just know that in the end, everything turned to shit. My family hated me; I was ostracized from the people who raised me and the only people I had to turn to were ones I barely even knew.

I was pregnant. I was engaged. I didn’t love the person I was marrying, but I was denying it to myself. Even looking back I can say that honestly. I just stayed with him so the child in my womb wouldn’t have a broken family like I grew up in.

I was an idiot.

He was abusive.

I eventually left him. It took me a while and several attempts; the cops were called several times to settle disputes between us in the process. What finally pushed me to the edge wasn’t a fight, wasn’t really any sort of abuse. It was a lie. I had finally convinced him to try marriage counseling and we decided on a local pastor/Christian couselor, which honestly surprised me because he’s some sort of atheist.

During the session – the one and only session that we went to – we talked things out, I got things off of my chest and told him what was bothering me. Of course, he nagged at me a bit, but in the end we compromised. My biggest “blah” was that he wasn’t helping out enough with our child and was demanding too much of me; he literally did nothing in the house while I was supposed to do everything and make time to shower myself, feed myself… and him. I had enough to deal with when I was taking care of our child and the household. He could cook for himself. Until I found out that he was only an expert at burning water. :-/

But yes, the session went great. I was happy. Suspicious, but happy. I was rightfully suspicious, I came later to find out. Almost every promise, almost every thing that he said he would change and start doing to help out, was broken not three hours later. He had planned on doing something “with the guys” for the whole weekend. I wouldn’t be seeing him for the whole weekend and I had no prior knowledge about it.

We argued again. I yelled, I cried. I gave up. I knew nothing could be done and I left. I packed a bag that night for me and then one for the baby and, on my way out, left him a note on the bed. I called one of my friends and had her pick me up. We were done. I filed for divorce a month later. He was dating another woman two weeks later.

The faux pas then, though, was that I was pregnant. We ended up having to wait over a year for the divorce to be finalized. Within the first six months, he did not contact me to see our already born child, he made no attempt to try and see our child. When we did make it to court, he said that I had denied him his parental rights to see his child and that’s why he never visited the baby.

Two years later and three children together, we’re going through the same thing.

I don’t know what he’s doing. I have absolutely no idea. I know he’s unstable. He’s the type of person that can’t go without a relationship. Literally CAN NOT. He split with his last girlfriend, at most, two months ago and he’s already dating someone else. Before her, it was a couple weeks. Before that relationship, it was around two months.

And I only know that through, y’know, Facebook. ^^;;

It’s been over six months since he’s seen his children face-to-face and he’s made little effort to see them. I don’t know if he’s trying something underhanded, if he’s going for what he did last time, or if he honestly thinks that I just gave up on fighting in court. (He doesn’t think that I’m actually paying my lawyer.) I can’t get into his mindset because I care too much about my children. The three weeks he took them and didn’t allow me contact with them I flipped out. My anxiety level was at an all-time high. I had panic-attacks and I seriously flipped the FUCK out. I’ve never been that way. Ever. My children are my life and not knowing exactly where they were, not having contact with them, threw me in a way I never thought possible.

And because of him I’m paranoid. Proof: my children stayed with my mother this past weekend. I had to call her on Saturday because I was flipping out because my children weren’t with me; I didn’t know how they were exactly. I knew they were alright, but I was flipping out. It was anxiety, near to a panic attack. Relate it to PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), if you must – I know that’s the only thing I can relate it to similarly, though I know it’s not the same thing. What happened to me all those months ago has affected me for life. And it sucks.

But now he’s (my ex) not answering texts. He asked me to text him when it was a good time that him and the children could talk. I did. He never responded. That was weeks ago.

And now he’s not paying child support.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it’s accidental or not. I mean, I moved; what if because I moved the child support stuff is all blah. Oh, but wait… then I wouldn’t have gotten last month. Or the month before. Right?

So what’s going on?

I’m so confused. And scared. And anxious. Slightly paranoid.

I just want all of this to be over. All of the problems and issues. I want all of it gone. I know it never will be; I’m stuck with that man for life until the children are grown up, and even then, probably not even.

Hopes, wishes, and dreams abound. I just want everything to be well and good again.

Stable is good. 🙂

During Work He Does What?

Ok. So I’m not  complaining, but I just don’t understand how this could happen.

My ex-husband moved out of state over 6 months ago and I’ve little-to-no contact with him since, other than what was required. I’m still “friends”, so to speak, with him on facebook so I see what’s going on in his life and whatnot.

He works everyday. Well, every weekday. He works 8AM-5PM, with normal overtime. He has some sort of computer job; not sure exactly what he does. :-/

Anyway, here’s the kicker.

Everyday, he’s posting on facebook between the hours of 8AM and 5PM.

But not only that, he’s also posting, many more times, on his tumblr account.

Oh, and he gets on his online dating site that he brags about being on.

All during the hours of 8AM and 5PM, his work hours.

What I don’t get is how his employers don’t know that he’s using their computers, their internet, to get online and do whatever the f**k he wants. From what I’ve gathered from his facebook account, he does the same thing afterwork too: posting on facebook, tumblr, and getting on the online dating site. So is he even doing any work at all? Is he even earning his almost $100k/yr pay?

My answer: probably not.

Unfortunately, I can’t prove it and it’ll be considered heresy – the whole “he said, she said”, even if I print-screened things from all of the sites.

*Le sigh* Sometimes, life just is not fair.

Friendship Status: Processing

It’s been about two weeks now. I wonder if she’s thought about it, if she’s actually talked about it with her fiance?

What am I talking about it? I’m talking about my “best friend” who’s getting married in December. I’m in the wedding, but so is the man that raped me. I confronted her about it and her response was… not very enthusiastic on my behalf. It was almost as if she was fighting for him instead.

In the time since then I’ve been busy moving but it hasn’t stopped me from thinking about the situation concerning her. My stress level, my anxiety, has went through the roof since that phone conversation those weeks ago. I’ve imagined so many ways that this could turn out, so many different conversations; unfortunately, most of them finish with the ending of our friendship. I can’t help but think “what happened?”

Five years ago she never would have second-guessed me about what I’ve said. Three years ago she would’ve stood by my side through thick and thin. Now, though, everything has changed and I don’t know why. I’ve known her for most of my given life, most of which I’ve considered her to be my best friend.

I’m afraid to her what she’s going to say, if she ever says anything to me at all. Because, like I’ve said, it’s been two weeks and I’ve heard no response about it.

I think she’s avoiding the issue. Maybe she’s afraid too? Maybe she doesn’t want to tell me that she [and her fiance] have decided that I’m “too selfish” and they don’t want me in the wedding at all? Or maybe she would rather tell me face to face? This weekend is going to be the first weekend since our phone confrontation that she’ll be nearby since she goes to college out of state. Or… or maybe she is just avoiding it altogether, avoiding me. It’s possible.

There are so many possibilities out there and I’ve only listed a few. I’ve even thought of the possibility where she and her fiance discuss it and she actually does defend me. Ironically, if she did that, her and her fiance (for the umpteenth time, might I add) would more than likely break-up… again. I think she’s going to choose him over me, which to some extent I can understand, but she also understands where I’m coming from.

She’s been raped too. That’s why I though, hoped, that she would understand where I was coming from and why I was asking something so drastic of her. Instead, though, I got the response of “he’s been best friends with him for 10 years, I could never ask that of him, just like I hope he would never ask me to take you out of the wedding”.

I didn’t think about it at the time, but she and I have known him for the same amount of time. We met him (her fiance) eleven years ago at the same time. Ten years ago said guy (“the rapist”) was not her fiance’s best friend when we met him, another guy was. Maybe seven years ago they became best friends, at most eight, but definitely not ten. I kind of think she was pulling the number of years out of her ass, so to speak. And it makes me angry.

And I’ve discussed it with MY fiance; he understands where I’m coming from. I made the comment the other night while he was preparing dinner (yes, he was – not me) that if her rapist was in our wedding I would take him out without a second thought. I’d tell the guy “sorry”, but something came up. Though, after hearing what happened I probably wouldn’t want to be around that guy much anyway. My fiance understood that and completely agreed.

It basically comes down to the fact to whose friendship does she value more. I’m not even sure if it has anything to do with her fiance, and if he does then their relationship is more of a dictatorship then one of equal value.

The way I see it, if she valued my friendship and believed what I said she would put more stock into my request instead of, what seems to me, just pushing it aside to be dealt with later.

Apparently I’m not a good enough friend because I’m trying to ruin her big day by asking for the guy that raped me to not be near me. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be less selfish; I only wanted to not have a panic attack in front of 200 people.