Wednesday, October 7, 2015

What you don't know, your Honor....


What you don't know, your Honor, is that my child is suffering at the hands of my abuser, who continues to use him as a tool to hurt me. That is what sociopaths do.
What you don't know, your Honor, is that I left an abusive relationship to better protect myself and my son, but the flawed family court system has resulted me with the exact opposite. 
What you don't see, your Honor, is the confusion in my child's eyes as he desperately tries to understand why mommy keeps sending him back to daddy, while daddy tells him that mommy doesn't want him.
What you don't hear, your Honor, is the quivering little voice that cries about having to go back to dad's and how he says mean things about mommy. You don't see the confusion overcome his face as he tries to discern truth from lie at the mere age of five. 
What you don't see, your Honor, is the joy fall out of my little boy's eyes when he has to go back to OUR abuser. You don't have to watch him turn into just a shell of a person as he becomes empty inside and loses himself amidst all of the evils his father shows him. 
What you don't know, your Honor, is that that family court system has failed my son... along with many other children... and it won't stop until someone really delves deeper into each individual case with the time and energy it deserves. What you don't know, your Honor... is a lot more than you could imagine.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Congratulations....

Congratulations Mr. "Dad"

You have successfully accomplished terrorizing our son in the name of your revenge. Congratulations on your quest to slowly bring me to a breaking point with all of your games and gas-lighting. Congratulations on costing me thousands of dollars in lawyers fees as I fight for the sake of our son, who is suffering immensely at your will.

Further Congrats are in order for you turning out to be worse than your own father who left your mother with five kids, and one in the oven... at least he knew that he was no good for her and left her alone.

Congratulations sir, for striking the fear in your own child in telling him bad things about his mother and making him feel bad for loving her. Congratulations on creating anxiety in a toddler and laying your problems with me, on his shoulders. Congratulations on your well-played lies and manipulations and further congrats to you for recruiting a puppet to help play out your little plans to destroy my world and everything in it.

I have news for you....

Your little army is built on a web of lies and it will not last forever. You may have, at one point, had the power to take me to my knees over desperation and pain, but it made me stronger than I have ever been and it won't happen again. I know what bottom feels like now... which also means I know I can survive it.

Your son doesn't like you. Mommy doesn't talk bad about you to him. Mommy doesn't even hold a thought of you in her day to want to talk about you to him or anyone else so get over yourself. I wouldn't do that to my own child... it is a form or terrorism in my eyes and no child deserves that.

No matter how hard you try, you won't turn him from me. He loves his mother and we have an undeniable bond that you will never have with him.  This was probably not only developed in the love I had while he was in the womb when you wanted for me to abort him... but also during the time you were never really present during the first two years of his life... when you were around, you still never took care of him the way that mommy did.

When I left, you told me that you would make me regret it... well I don't. I don't regret no longer fearing for my life in my own home. I don't regret no longer getting choked out and emotionally tormented for being "just a paramedic." I don't even regret losing almost everything I ever owned because of your rage and hurt feelings over my leaving. I only regret that our son has to suffer in the name of your revenge against me.

He will not always suffer. I am confident that the truth will come to light and your army will falter and your vengeance will come to an end. Karma is holding out longer to take care of you because her plans are divine. I will sit back and just watch... you are your own undoing. Congratulations.

Friday, July 24, 2015

To my son

To my sweet, sweet baby boy:


I am sorry that I failed you. I was trying so hard to keep you safe and protected, that I fell apart amidst they chaos your father was causing. I fell into the trap, because that has been his plan all along. To whittle me down to a point where I would eventually break. I did just that.... I now know what "bottom" feels like. I also know how to never allow myself to get there again. I am stronger now. I will walk through these obstacles as though they don't exist... for you. I will not falter. I will adapt and overcome. I will persevere. My son... I will not fail you again... not ever in that way at least. I will never forget the look of terror in your face after this summer vacation with me, in realizing you had to go back to dad’s house and couldn’t stay with me. It haunts me. I cried right there with you. I reminded you to remember mommy at bedtime every night, wishing you sweet dreams. I asked for you to remember that no matter what daddy and his puppet says, that mommy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. It was a lot to ask, but I think you knew that anyway. I am working so hard to make things right and to keep you safe. I need for you to just hang in there a little while longer. I know it is a lot to ask of a five year old, but it is what it is. I am sorry for failing you. There isn’t a moment in my day where you aren’t in my thoughts. Hang in there my sweet, sweet boy… Mommy will never give up. Never. I love you O.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Fear

When you become a mother, fear envelops a new definition. When you become a mother and have no choice but to attempt co-parenting with a sociopath, the word "fear" doesn't exactly cover it.

My normal fears in becoming a mother were pretty standard. The typical anxieties experienced with leaving your child for the first time... the stumbles and falls when helping the little guy learn to walk and the fear of choking on solid foods. "Stranger danger," looking away for just two seconds too long and losing sight of him, big ouchies that can't be kissed better.... So many fears that seem silly after time passes and nothing happens. Those fears grow and expand into different forms with time, but for the typical parent, they don't stretch beyond the "standard" set of fears deemed normal for a parent to have.

Introduce a sociopath to the mix and now we have a whole new ballgame. The rules are different. The game is different.  One of the players doesn't play fair and the teammates he recruits are just as bad, if not worse at times. Now the new set of fears involves the mind fucking (no real polite way to say it) he does with our kid. Now I have to worry about the mental abuse and the manipulations... the secret ways he hurts our son both mentally and physically... just like he did to me. It is a repeat of myself but to a smaller and more innocent person.... that person being my entire heart walking around outside of my body in the form of a small boy. He is afraid to talk to me about it anymore... because when I try to help, other people get back to his father in the process and he suffers for it. I was afraid to say anything to anyone. I was afraid of the consequences of telling someone. It is far more painful for me to watch our son suffer... and he knows that.

Fear now includes what someone might do to help Sam against me in every aspect of my life, but most importantly, in the ways that involve our son.  My professional world has been invaded with attempts to discredit me. My personal world has been ripped at the seams... my sanity toyed with... my physical well-being compromised... and the bastard almost destroyed me.... ALMOST.

"Damaged people are dangerous... they know that they can survive."

Thursday, July 2, 2015

Abnormally Normal

What is something that is abnormally normal? In my life, it is normal for me to live by audio recorder and journaling. I have to carry a recorder with me everywhere in order to protect my future self from accusations from Sam. I have to record each conversation incoming and outgoing that involves him. I  have to journal my days so I know which day has what recording and what in general went on so I can account for everything going on. On top of this, I have to be aware of my surroundings... who might be watching me for him... at work... near my home... out on the town... anywhere I am, I must be vigilant and suspicious of the smallest things. My friends are now few and far between because it is hard to determine who can and cannot be trusted. This is what is now my norm. It is far from what normal is... but it is now my new normal. It has been for over three years now. I hate it.

Sometimes I find myself to be in the position he wanted me in all along... the one where I regret leaving. Do I really regret it? No. I could potentially be dead by now had I stayed. I just sometimes wonder if it would've been easier to remain on the inside of the storm in order to better protect myself with being able to anticipate his next strike against me.

I realize, how strong I really am. I have fallen. I have been broken down and I have been beaten up. But I still stand. I still stand and I still fight and I will be a victor... not a victim. It isn't just me who depends on this, but my son too. There are some days where I am defeated. And on that day, it is okay to be defeated. Tomorrow will always come and I will not be defeated tomorrow.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Funny how....

It's funny how when you are in love with a person, you would do most anything for them... even things that go against everything you believe. But when you unsuspectingly fall for a sociopath,  eventually you begin to get lost in what you really believe and get sucked into a cyclone of their needs and wants. This happened to me. I did things... said things.... and eventually believed things to be different than what they really were. People like Sam are good at that... fucking with your head and manipulating your thoughts and feelings. It is what they do best. You aren't a friend, girlfriend, boyfriend, etc to a sociopath. Instead, you are a ticket... a piece to a puzzle... a key to entering a specific door. You will be used and abused and to the length and extent of which you will allow for it to continue, or until the point of which you are no longer of use.

Getting lost in another person can make you completely lose yourself. Getting lost in a sociopath will make you not only lose yourself, but also makes you feel crazy.  It may even make you behave irrationally and lose control like you never have before. I witnessed Sam doing things that would normally cause me to run the other way screaming... but instead, for him, I made excuses and made exceptions for him. I'm not proud of these things. Little red flags would pop up like crazy, giving me clues to run and never look back. Instead, I pulled those flags and laid them down... looking past reality, getting lost in crazy land.

Some of the clues just let me know he was not a good person, not necessarily that he was a sociopath. I don't know that had I left when I should have, that I would have even figured out that he was a sociopath.  I learned right off the bat that he was a compulsive liar. He would knock that up to be him lying to protect my feelings... to keep me happy. He would always say, "No one is 100% honest all of the time." I get that... we tell little white lies here and there and sometimes get caught up in them, but his lies were important lies. Lies about other women and past discrepancies. I agree that you aren't necessarily what your past is made up of, however, if you are still behaving like you did in your past, then you are likely still that person that you try so hard to hide from. Sam cheated... I found him registered to several dating sites... even ones for hook-ups where he was doing contract work overseas. I knew it and felt it in my bones... I knew he was unfaithful on several occasions. I just couldn't prove it. I have learned from this, that, "In the absence of certainty, instinct is all you can follow." And you should believe your gut feelings... they are there for a good reason. "Trust, but verify."

Sam lied about his closeness to his family. He spoke ill of all of his family members. This confused me when I saw them together because they were so close, it was almost incestual at times. The way they touched each other and spoke to each other was creepy and concerning. Sam would walk around his sister's home in nothing but his briefs and they would pat each other on the butt in passing... I could also never imagine myself using the word "sexy" in describing a family member. I may have been just a little over sensitive with that, but in combination with their physical behaviors, I accounted for that as abnormal too.  I guess when his sister got drunk and pulled me to the side the day before we got married and told me that she was trying to like me, but couldn't, because she had been looking for a man like Sam all her life and that if she could marry him and  have all his babies, she would. To make matters worse, I told her that what she said concerned me on a number of levels and she responded with, "Oh honey, they used to do that all the time in the 14th Century." Clearly there was no arguing with her on how disgusting that was because she felt there was nothing wrong with her feelings. There was no point in doing anything other than nodding and walking away. This very same woman, continuously asked to see my son's penis when he was born... her explanation being that she just couldn't believe that we had a boy. I know I need not say more about that.

Sam lied about the amount of women in his past. I would find notes in the mailbox from women who were in town and stopping by to say hi. The neighbor, who thought that I was a new tenant and that Sam was gone, was talking about "they guy who lived there before me" and how he always had different women circling through all the time.

Sam would backstab friends all the time and justify it with doing whatever it takes to keep his "family" safe and financially sound. He would smile in their faces and when they walked away, he would make mention of how they were an important part of a plan for him. Doug, Keith, Dave, Tim, Hugh, Shelley, Bear, Val, Mark, Ashley, Joe.... all people who were tricked by him and still don't even know it. But I do. They will see it in time. "Everything you do in the dark, comest to the light eventually."

Sam forged a doctor's signature to a medical clearance form for Triple Canopy... the contract company he was going back overseas with for work. He couldn't get in to see the doc within the time limitations he had, so he just cut and pasted the signature from the last form he had. Sam later turned around and sued them through the Whistleblower's Act with claims that they falsified qualifying records for the Ugandan guards that Triple Canopy had staffed under a government contract. Ironic, isn't it?

What did Sam do to me? He frequented a technique called "gas-lighting." Sam would swear that I said or did something that I never said or did. He would tell me that I never told him stuff that I knew I told him. He would swear he told me things that he never actually told me and it got to the point where I started to question myself and really believe that he was right. Maybe I didn't hear him say he had to be somewhere at a certain time... or maybe I didn't actually tell him that I needed to be somewhere. Was I going crazy? I am pretty organized with my calendar books, pre-set alarms, and notes to myself... but for some reason, my organizational skills had been failing me a lot when I was with him. At least that is what I thought. I started to believe that I was becoming forgetful. I wasn't completely stupid about it though. I began writing myself extensive notes with dates and times to make sure I had something to look back on showing that I did things that Sam said I didn't do, but that didn't matter. He wouldn't look at my notes. I remained feeling crazy because he wouldn't listen to me... even in knowing that I wasn't forgetting things, because he refused to look at what I had that proved otherwise. I felt defeated.

What did I do for Sam? I became submissive. In every aspect of my world, I submitted to him and did what made him happy... even if it hurt me... emotionally and physically. I even gave into what he wanted of me sexually, as much as I could take. He wanted me to say that I enjoyed his rough sex to a point where I even started to believe that I did. He didn't care about hurting me. For him, I caved into telling him I enjoyed it and responded appropriately, just to make it easier on myself. Disagreeing made it worse. Asking him to be more gentle made him more rough. He overpowered me and I eventually became more fearful. Sleeping was scary. I never knew when I was going to wake to him on top of me, in whatever fashion he was in the mood for. I still don't have it in me to physically detail what happened behind closed doors. What bothers me the most, is that I submitted to his wants and needs and in turn, I lost myself, becoming nothing more than an object of pleasure for him. I wanted for him to like me. I still wanted for him to love me. I wrote emails talking sexually in the way he liked... I even asked for him to do the things to me that I hated, because I knew he liked it. I never felt good about that. It was easier to just be what he wanted for me to be, rather than to be myself.  I became a liar too... I wasn't even me anymore.

It was difficult after our son was born. Sam didn't get the one thing from me that he wanted the most... an abortion. When I got pregnant with our son, he tried everything to get me to have an abortion. First, he started with the sweet and supportive (manipulative) stance, begging me to consider an abortion because of "bad timing." Once I didn't agree with him, he turned into a grade A Asshole to try to make me hate him so I wouldn't want to have his kid. Then, he told me I was ruining his life and my life, and ultimately the life of our future child. I was depressed for the entire first trimester and communication with Sam was near absent. Hindsight being 20/20, he came around when an abortion was no longer a legal option, and explained that he was just scared and it was a "knee-jerk" reaction, that he was sorry. Yes, I was an idiot and married him after that.

Something about Sam that is entertaining, but frustrating all the same, is that he actually believes his own lies. He will stick to a lie like gorilla glue and no matter the evidence against it, he will conjure up something to try to make it look like a truth. It amazes me how far he will go to in trying to look like an honest person, but it is an ugly battle to have to fight when you have someone who believes so much in their own lies that they will go to any length to make it look truthful. He justifies his behavior to other people by saying he is doing it to ... you guessed it, protect his son. You know... the one he didn't really want. He still doesn't want him. He only wants him for one purpose... to hurt me. I hurt, but I am not dead. The previous battles may be over, but the war has just begun.

I am a force to be reckoned with.... I am a mother.

Monday, March 2, 2015

And then came baby


I was scheduled to be induced the morning of July 20, 2010 at Memorial University Medical Center in Savannah, GA. Dr. Pettigrew was an amazing Ob/Gyn and made a good point of being induced being less messy and being better prepared because of being able to know what to expect with an induction. It was hard to argue.

We made our way to the hospital around 5am and they prepped me. I was placed on ptocin in order to increase and strengthen contractions. I elected for no pain management initially. Then Dr. Pettigrew came in and ruptured my membranes and the pain was so intense with the ptocin that I was given IV medications that didn't even take the edge off. I finally gave in to an epidural after eight hours of hard contractions. I could've kissed the doctor who did it. It went just as he explained it to me and I was no longer feeling like a monster. I was able to relax and soon after Sam decided to leave to get food, I was dilated to 9cm and ready to deliver. The nurse cut the ptocin off and said she would call Dr. Pettigrew and be right back. She didn't come back. I started to feel dizzy and the monitor started to beep. Baby Boy was in distress and his heart rate was dropping. Another nurse came in and had me lay on my right side and placed an oxygen mask on my face. Soon thereafter, Dr. Pettigrew showed up and was puzzled as of to why the ptocin was off and she was rather upset that she never received a call. Sam showed back up and she turned the ptocin back on and said we would be delivering soon. A total of 12 hours of labor later, and Omar was born. He started experiencing distress again as I delivered him and after the final push, he pooped right as he came out. He was beautiful... just as I had pictured him to be. I breast fed him immediately and he had no problem with latching on and feeding. He was perfect. They swept him away for a bath and for standard labs and such. Sam was more fascinated with the placenta and the cord blood and tissue that we elected to have cryogenically frozen through Cbr. Doc sewed up a few internal stitches where I tore a little and soon after, the epidural was removed. Once I was able to feel my legs again, I was able to move to the next room where I would stay the night. Sam tended to me during our stay there. He tended to me throughout the entire delivery. Why did I think it was something endearing? This was something he was once employed at this very hospital to do. It wasn't something he was doing to be sweet and loving... it was just like work to him.

We were discharged and the lights went back out... literally as we exited the hospital doors...LIGHTS OUT.

Lights ON


Sam came around (hindsight being 20/20, around the time where legal abortion was no longer a possibility), and was now all on board. He claimed it was a "knee-jerk" reaction. Sadly... it didn't take long for me to buy that. He was being Mr. Perfect all over again. He was once again, that guy that was awesome like in the very beginning. Attentive, compassionate, affectionate, patient, understanding... and then some. I forgave him... as forgiving as I am, I forgave him and hardly thought for a second that I could be making a mistake. He wanted to come home and sweep me away to the Bahamas and get married. And we did just that.

His family came down. His mom, baby sis HudPie, sis Kat, and sis Gigi. None of them liked me. The feeling was very mutual. I didn't like any of them from the day we met... heck, from how he spoke of them, I didn't like them before I even met them. Not even his mother. He wanted them there... I didn't. So they came. They were rude, loud, and inconsiderate of everyone else around them. They were just as hideous on the inside as they were out... yet they didn't even realize it. It was as though they thought they were like the Kardashians or something. Not even close.

The day before we got married, we went on a private boat ride with a local who took us to a small private island with a speed boat and jet ski. Gigi got tipsy and pulled me to the side to let me know that she was trying to love me but that she was having a hard time. Her reason was because, "I've been looking for a man like my brother all of my life and if I could marry him and have his babies, I would." The look on my face must have been priceless. When I told her that she was disturbing me on a number of levels, she then let me know that, "Oh habibti please. People did it all the time in the fourteenth century." Clearly we are not in the fourteenth century, and I was still very disturbed. She was drunk, but not quite drunk enough at that point to say something like that and not mean it.

Either way, we went back to the hotel and the next day we got married. We went into town and had dinner together and Sam and I danced to "Hero" by Enrique Iglesias. It took me back to when he would dance with me in the kitchen and sing to me. Not that he was a spectacular singer, because he wasn't, but it was just nice to have someone treat me that way. Those days were far gone and very fake. Happiness with Sam only revolved around him getting his way. In the beginning, he was simply just learning me and laying groundwork. Here I was, now his wife, and ten times more at his will.

He continued to treat me like a princess...

The "relationship"

I will never forget the first time Sam wrapped his hands around my throat. He knocked me to the ground of the living room floor, just behind the couch. This was the first time I ever met his rage. He easily rested his weight on me and I didn't budge an inch in my attempts in trying to fight him. His hands grasped at my neck and just before it all went black, the last I heard him say was, "I've killed for less than this."

Darkness fell over my eyes and I started to fade. Then, RELEASE.... and I could breathe again. I got up in a stupor. One would think I wouldn't stay after that, but I did. I felt like he needed my help. I felt like I could be a positive change for him. I was so wrong. People only change when they want to change. They don't change otherwise. Sam was perfectly okay with what he was... still is. There is no changing him. He is what he is... a bonafide sociopath.

Instances like this occurred several other times. It was until after I had our son that I was really concerned. It's one thing when you subject yourself to that kind of torment, but a whole other story when you have a kid involved.

Rewinding a little ways. Sam and I went on vacation to Barbados during one of his months free from contract work. We stayed for a few weeks and then returned home. We got into a huge fight and two days before he was to leave again, we came to a mutual ground... or so I thought. He turned his light switch on and off so easily.

He would travel a lot and we would only see each other for a month or two total out of the year... and not consecutively. I think that is how we lasted so long. I mean, I didn't have to really deal with him much when he was gone and he was good at making me think he missed me and wanted me. I felt most wanted when he was far away.

In the very beginning of his travels back overseas after vacationing in Barbados, I discovered that I was pregnant. I heard from him three days later and he attempted to sway me into getting an abortion. Now, in the beginning of our dating, I told him my views on abortion personally and that it wasn't something I personally felt was possible for me to do. He agreed 100%. But here I was, finding myself having to explain to him why an abortion would be too hard for me and the potential damages it could do to my body. He kept on and on with the, "It's bad timing" and "Can't we have a baby next year?" speeches. I couldn't believe what he was saying. I finally put my foot down and flat out told him, "No, I cannot do that to myself." Then the tables turned. He accused me of tricking him into pregnancy and trapping him. He told me that he was going to break up with me when he got overseas anyway. He attempted to make me hate him and told me that I was going to ruin his life and our kid's life. I was floored.

The first trimester consisted of friends supporting me and making sure I was ok. My friend Jason was the one who rushed over amidst a panic attack. Sarah, Allie, Jen, and Nicki would welcome me with open arms at work with huge hugs and stick figure picture drawings to help make me smile. I worked two full time careers as a firefighter in our town and a paramedic in Savannah. I was more than occupied enough to keep my mind off of things. Sam and I didn't talk a whole lot. He had nothing nice to say to me and frankly, I had nothing nice to say to him at this point.

However, come trimester number two.... all of that soon changed... because the light switch flipped up again...

Monday, January 12, 2015

Catch and throw

Sam was quite the charmer. He comes off as a worldly man. One who has traveled, been educated, and has experienced many things. He also knows how to put on a show. He easily won the approval that of my friends and family by being charismatic and attentive. He was personable. He adjusted conversation easily to other people to make them feel like he was listening and interested in their conversations. Reality was, he was never interested in what anyone else had to say. He just put on a really good show.

It was difficult when I finally left because I was also very private. I never really told people about anything bad that happened because it made me feel stupid. By the time anyone knew anything about what was going on between us, it was like a ball flying out of left field for the people who had no clue. This included my own family. The first time I even mentioned anything to my father was when I found a conversation between Sam and one of his sisters on Skype talking about killing me. She told him to not kill me yet because they need the milk for 2.0... which is what he nicknamed our son. I forwarded that information to my father and to a friend for safe keeping had anything happened to me. This was within the month that I had our son, so I was floored. I thought that everything was okay at that point. Next thing you know I'm reading e-mails between him and a buddy saying to never have kids because they aren't worth it. He also told his buddy that I was a bitch, but an "itch needs a scratch." I came to realize that he frequently talked about me in that way to other people. He didn't say good things about me and would tell stories that never happened the way he said they did. He made me appear to be crazy, and I felt that way.

He would cast me away numerous times and reel me right back in with his charm. He knew just how to apologize (or threaten me), to get me to stay and get me to do what he needed of me. It was like he was sport fishing.... with one fish. I took the bait every time too.  Every other month he would throw me back in the water, and then after a few weeks he would bait me back in.

Monday, January 5, 2015

Hook, line, sinker

For some reason, I believed everything that Sam told me.  He even convinced me of things that I definitively knew to be true, to be false. The proper term that I am referring to when it comes to him screwing with my head, is "gas-lighting." Sam would make me think I said something that I didn't say, or did something I didn't do. He made me believe that I didn't tell him things that I would swear by that I had. It made me continuously question myself and created an insecurity in me regarding my own judgement. I would feel crazy because of these things. I have always prided myself in my organization and memory skill, so this hit me hard and knocked me down.  I soon started to take his word over what my mind remembered because I actually believed him over myself. Crazy, isn't it? How someone can get inside of your head and just tinker around with your thoughts and mess you up like that? No one really likes to admit when someone has done that to them. It makes you feel so out of control because it's almost like you just opened the door for them to do that to you. But it isn't that simple. We don't really purposely open a door for someone to walk right in and destroy our minds. Sometimes we just crack the door open and take a peek and the damn snake just slithers in without us even noticing.

He captured me... even worse, he captured my loved ones right along with me.