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.

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."

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.