PLEASE NOTE: This is a popular post for some reason. I have a theory that it pops up high in the google search for "sex offender wife". Well, if this is your first time on this blog, I want you to know that this is not my best post. Please peruse the blog for some of my more current and thoughtful posts. Also, there are many stories in the comments of this post from others like us, which you are welcome to read and reply to (we all need support). But when you are ready to share your own story, please do it on this post: Wives of Sex Offenders - A Place to Share.
When I read about other women in my situation I tend to categorize them. There are the women who practically wear a shirt that says "He's not the man you think he is." I would call them the "denial" group, except that I hate that word myself. Also, I feel that you shouldn't label someone as being in denial simply because they love and support a person, no matter how much wrong that person has done. They are the love group.
And there are those who lean heavily on Jesus. I wouldn't have guessed that this would be such a theme among betrayed wives. But then, it makes sense because we have had our lives turned upside-down and inside out. Who do you turn to when that happens? This is the faith group.
The women of love and faith are the ones that populate the internet. But I would like to conjecture that there is a third group: the angry group. You will hardly ever find this type in any chat room or forum or blog because they feel the betrayal so acutely that they would rather walk away and not look back. They will divorce quickly and move far away from the scene of the crime and tell their children that daddy is dead.
These are just my ideas based on very little evidence, so don't take them too seriously.
So which am I? I'm all of them, of course. I still love Jake, which is why I'm still here. I found God in the horror of last year and He kept me afloat. And I'm so burning mad that I can't stand it some days. All wives of sex offenders are really a mix of these women, even the wives who walk away and never look back. I guess we just pick a direction to lean and some lean more strongly in one direction than others. I started with the love group, joined the faith group, and made a big jump into the angry group right before I started this blog. I think I sit squarely in the middle now . . . but there's always a chance it could change.
In case you missed it, I finally posted the second half of the story I was dragging my feet on. It is just the beginning of my story from last year, which I plan to relate in time. In this moment, though, I just want to get back to blogging regularly now that I'm not shamefully avoiding unfulfilled promises!
Showing posts with label The Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Story. Show all posts
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
February 16, 2011 (Part Two)
(This is the sequel to this post.)
I think it was two hours after he had called that a local police officer showed up at my door. I was glad that Elise had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of a movie, so she wouldn't ask me any questions. The officer asked to come in. Honoring Jake's agreement to cooperate, I let her in.
My mother-in-law had been driving by to check on me at that very moment, so she came in behind the officer.
Kay and I stood for a moment, expecting the officer to ask us questions, but she instructed us to sit on the sofa. She sat at my dining table in the next room. And we all just sat silently for over an hour with zero explanation. Kay would look at me periodically as if searching for an answer. I would just shrug and sniffle (I had been crying on and off all afternoon). Finally, I grew annoyed with the awkward silence and asked the officer what was going on.
She said, "I don't know. I was instructed to watch the computers and wait for more instructions." So we waited a little longer.
Suddenly, my yard was full of cop cars. I looked out the front door to see my husband signing some paperwork. I had enough presence of mind to move Elise to her bed before they all came in. When they entered, I hugged Jake and asked him what was going on. He said they just needed the computers. He had one personal laptop and a business laptop (the one he had been erasing).
It turns out that they didn't just want the computers. The paperwork he signed outside the door gave them permission to search his personal things. They took apart his office and bagged every storage device they could find. They also bagged a few playboy-type magazines (they really had to dig for those because I never knew he had any). This process took hours and it felt like our house was flooded with police. They even asked for permission to view my computer, which was in a different room and I agreed since I actually had nothing to hide.
Meanwhile, a social worker showed up. Let's call her Umbridge, shall we? She seemed nice enough at the time, but it was also midnight and I was in emotional shock. She took Jake to the kitchen to talk and the police chief sat with me on the sofa. She asked me a few questions, like if I knew what was going on. I related the little that Jake had told me about the situation. I really had very little to tell her. But while we were talking, I could hear what Jake was telling Umbridge. He was saying something about running his hand down the girl's front. That was the first moment I realized that I was being lied to by my own husband. That is really when the seed of my anger was planted.
The police chief left me then with Umbridge. She smiled and said sympathetic things that I wanted to believe, but I could tell she was just going through the motions. She basically asked the same questions as the chief and I repeated my words, but by this time I knew that I was just repeating the lies Jake had told me. I felt like a fool.
Umbridge asked me if my husband had ever been in trouble for anything like this before. It popped into my mind that he had told me that he had been investigated for improper behavior toward a student at the first school he taught at. He had reassured me that it was just rumors. After all, the investigation found nothing, not even a student to claim that he had acted inappropriately. (This is one of the many pieces of information I had in my life that I never put much stock in, but maybe if I had put all the pieces together . . .) I mentioned this to Umbridge and emphasized that they investigated to no end.
She asked, "Do you believe that he has done nothing wrong?" Her tone was clearly judgmental. I was speechless. I couldn't give her a straight answer.
I think I said, "I believed him earlier today. I'm not really sure what to think right now."
Umbridge explained to me that Jake would have to live somewhere else during the investigation. Amidst sobs, I asked her how long that would take. With a little pout that I suppose she thought was sympathetic looking, she said, "Oh, sometimes a few days, sometimes longer . . . " She also said she'd be back in the morning to talk to Elise. She had Jake and I sign an "action plan" agreeing to some basic conditions and then she left.
Almost immediately after she left, all hell broke loose. An officer found a book in Jake's office that apparently had pictures of nude children in it. For the record, I had never laid eyes on it until that night . . . but I knew about it. This is the point in the story where everyone freaks out and says, "You knew about this book!" and it starts all the shitty feelings all over again. So please, for my sanity hold yourself together for one more paragraph.
Jake got it in his head one day to buy rare books on eBay to resell on Amazon. This is one of many hare-brained schemes that I just rolled my eyes at and thought This will last ten seconds and be forgotten with the next project. Jake proceeded to find a rare book and he described it to me. I nodded with disinterest and went on with my life. I never heard about the book again. So in the moment that I heard the officer explaining to the investigator what was in the book, I recalled Jake's description of the rare book he planned to buy and resell: "a book from the 70's to teach children about their body." I knew it had to be the same book. I walked numbly to the office and looked upon the cover of the book. It was simply bound in black velvet with only the title on the front, "Show Me".
I just about puked when I saw it. Of course, I thought, of course this is child pornography. Why else would it be bound in black velvet? I should have been furious that he had bought such a thing and brought it in our house, but I was so horrified that I could feel no other emotion. I wondered to myself if he knew what it really was at the time he bought it. But I couldn't yet bring myself to think that way about him - not quite yet. Instead, my horror was slowly replaced with a feeling of guilt.
I said to the investigator, "I knew about the book." The whole world turned upside-down for a moment as the investigator turned on me. I tried to explain, but he just seemed to be yelling about how I had participated in buying child pornography. Finally, Jake convinced him that I had never looked at or really known what it was.
Jake had looked at it. He admitted to that. The investigator went crazy again. I remember standing there in my kitchen holding my precious 3-week-old baby, sobbing, while the investigator yelled, "We will take away your children! Neither of you will ever see them again!"
Suddenly, I straightened up and stopped crying. I had been passively listening to the investigator ask Jake the same questions over and over. He was grilling Jake, wheedling for confessions. I said something to Jake like,,"He's just trying to get you to say something damning. You should stop talking." To this day, I can't believe I said that, but part of me wishes I had said it long before the police entered my house and created the recurring nightmares I have about that night.
The investigator was mad at me. He said, "I'm just trying to help." Then he gathered everything and everyone up, including Jake, and they left.
It was 2am. I was left alone, watching through the window as the car lights faded away into the night. I just stood in the dark, silent house with my ears still ringing from the accusations of the investigator. I let out a few sobs, but then found that I was too tired to even cry. I went to the bedroom. Elise was asleep in her little bed, just opposite ours. I curled up next to her. I left the lamp on and lay there with my eyes open. I might have slept, but not much. I was scared that someone was coming to take the kids and I had to be ready . . . Ready to fight? Ready to run? I don't know, I was just holding on to them, like they were my only lifeline. It was a long night.
By the way, the book never showed up in the evidence against Jake. I was told that it really was a collectible book with the aim of teaching children about their bodies, but that it was edgy in an artistic way (it was the 70s, after all). Still, if you ever come across a book called "Show Me" in black velvet, walk away. Or better yet, throw it in the burn pile and take a picture for me. It represents too many horrors from that night.
I think it was two hours after he had called that a local police officer showed up at my door. I was glad that Elise had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of a movie, so she wouldn't ask me any questions. The officer asked to come in. Honoring Jake's agreement to cooperate, I let her in.
My mother-in-law had been driving by to check on me at that very moment, so she came in behind the officer.
Kay and I stood for a moment, expecting the officer to ask us questions, but she instructed us to sit on the sofa. She sat at my dining table in the next room. And we all just sat silently for over an hour with zero explanation. Kay would look at me periodically as if searching for an answer. I would just shrug and sniffle (I had been crying on and off all afternoon). Finally, I grew annoyed with the awkward silence and asked the officer what was going on.
She said, "I don't know. I was instructed to watch the computers and wait for more instructions." So we waited a little longer.
Suddenly, my yard was full of cop cars. I looked out the front door to see my husband signing some paperwork. I had enough presence of mind to move Elise to her bed before they all came in. When they entered, I hugged Jake and asked him what was going on. He said they just needed the computers. He had one personal laptop and a business laptop (the one he had been erasing).
It turns out that they didn't just want the computers. The paperwork he signed outside the door gave them permission to search his personal things. They took apart his office and bagged every storage device they could find. They also bagged a few playboy-type magazines (they really had to dig for those because I never knew he had any). This process took hours and it felt like our house was flooded with police. They even asked for permission to view my computer, which was in a different room and I agreed since I actually had nothing to hide.
Meanwhile, a social worker showed up. Let's call her Umbridge, shall we? She seemed nice enough at the time, but it was also midnight and I was in emotional shock. She took Jake to the kitchen to talk and the police chief sat with me on the sofa. She asked me a few questions, like if I knew what was going on. I related the little that Jake had told me about the situation. I really had very little to tell her. But while we were talking, I could hear what Jake was telling Umbridge. He was saying something about running his hand down the girl's front. That was the first moment I realized that I was being lied to by my own husband. That is really when the seed of my anger was planted.
The police chief left me then with Umbridge. She smiled and said sympathetic things that I wanted to believe, but I could tell she was just going through the motions. She basically asked the same questions as the chief and I repeated my words, but by this time I knew that I was just repeating the lies Jake had told me. I felt like a fool.
Umbridge asked me if my husband had ever been in trouble for anything like this before. It popped into my mind that he had told me that he had been investigated for improper behavior toward a student at the first school he taught at. He had reassured me that it was just rumors. After all, the investigation found nothing, not even a student to claim that he had acted inappropriately. (This is one of the many pieces of information I had in my life that I never put much stock in, but maybe if I had put all the pieces together . . .) I mentioned this to Umbridge and emphasized that they investigated to no end.
She asked, "Do you believe that he has done nothing wrong?" Her tone was clearly judgmental. I was speechless. I couldn't give her a straight answer.
I think I said, "I believed him earlier today. I'm not really sure what to think right now."
Umbridge explained to me that Jake would have to live somewhere else during the investigation. Amidst sobs, I asked her how long that would take. With a little pout that I suppose she thought was sympathetic looking, she said, "Oh, sometimes a few days, sometimes longer . . . " She also said she'd be back in the morning to talk to Elise. She had Jake and I sign an "action plan" agreeing to some basic conditions and then she left.
Almost immediately after she left, all hell broke loose. An officer found a book in Jake's office that apparently had pictures of nude children in it. For the record, I had never laid eyes on it until that night . . . but I knew about it. This is the point in the story where everyone freaks out and says, "You knew about this book!" and it starts all the shitty feelings all over again. So please, for my sanity hold yourself together for one more paragraph.
Jake got it in his head one day to buy rare books on eBay to resell on Amazon. This is one of many hare-brained schemes that I just rolled my eyes at and thought This will last ten seconds and be forgotten with the next project. Jake proceeded to find a rare book and he described it to me. I nodded with disinterest and went on with my life. I never heard about the book again. So in the moment that I heard the officer explaining to the investigator what was in the book, I recalled Jake's description of the rare book he planned to buy and resell: "a book from the 70's to teach children about their body." I knew it had to be the same book. I walked numbly to the office and looked upon the cover of the book. It was simply bound in black velvet with only the title on the front, "Show Me".
I just about puked when I saw it. Of course, I thought, of course this is child pornography. Why else would it be bound in black velvet? I should have been furious that he had bought such a thing and brought it in our house, but I was so horrified that I could feel no other emotion. I wondered to myself if he knew what it really was at the time he bought it. But I couldn't yet bring myself to think that way about him - not quite yet. Instead, my horror was slowly replaced with a feeling of guilt.
I said to the investigator, "I knew about the book." The whole world turned upside-down for a moment as the investigator turned on me. I tried to explain, but he just seemed to be yelling about how I had participated in buying child pornography. Finally, Jake convinced him that I had never looked at or really known what it was.
Jake had looked at it. He admitted to that. The investigator went crazy again. I remember standing there in my kitchen holding my precious 3-week-old baby, sobbing, while the investigator yelled, "We will take away your children! Neither of you will ever see them again!"
Suddenly, I straightened up and stopped crying. I had been passively listening to the investigator ask Jake the same questions over and over. He was grilling Jake, wheedling for confessions. I said something to Jake like,,"He's just trying to get you to say something damning. You should stop talking." To this day, I can't believe I said that, but part of me wishes I had said it long before the police entered my house and created the recurring nightmares I have about that night.
The investigator was mad at me. He said, "I'm just trying to help." Then he gathered everything and everyone up, including Jake, and they left.
It was 2am. I was left alone, watching through the window as the car lights faded away into the night. I just stood in the dark, silent house with my ears still ringing from the accusations of the investigator. I let out a few sobs, but then found that I was too tired to even cry. I went to the bedroom. Elise was asleep in her little bed, just opposite ours. I curled up next to her. I left the lamp on and lay there with my eyes open. I might have slept, but not much. I was scared that someone was coming to take the kids and I had to be ready . . . Ready to fight? Ready to run? I don't know, I was just holding on to them, like they were my only lifeline. It was a long night.
By the way, the book never showed up in the evidence against Jake. I was told that it really was a collectible book with the aim of teaching children about their bodies, but that it was edgy in an artistic way (it was the 70s, after all). Still, if you ever come across a book called "Show Me" in black velvet, walk away. Or better yet, throw it in the burn pile and take a picture for me. It represents too many horrors from that night.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Is that you, God?
If you've been wondering where I've been, I've been avoiding all of you because I can't seem to write the second part of my story and I'm ashamed.
But I came running back to tell you about my weird day yesterday.
Despite all my recent dreams about moving on in the world of relationships, I spent the last week anxiously awaiting a letter from Jake. In my last letter, I told him how scared I was about the mortgage. I told him I wouldn't stay here and let the mortgage suck me dry, no matter how much I love the house. I told him he should think about selling it and that I was packing.
Around the time I sent the letter, I told his parents something similar. Kay seems to get it and supported the idea of selling the house, but Big Rev is classically in denial. He said, "Well, I think your moving too fast on this," and "We should wait to see what happens," and even "Are you going to leave the house to go into foreclosure?" And I, in my own classic form, get riled up, snap at him that this is not my fault, and then feel guilty about it for days.
Big Rev really did work on me and made me feel guilty. I was anxious about the letter because I thought I had started a fight with Jake, like I always do with Big Rev. After all, Jake is the one that I really want to yell at.
But when I got the letter yesterday, it was so nice! It was full of suggestions for items among his belongings that I could sell. He even managed to get through the whole letter without any self-pity or excuses - unheard of! It was actually a pleasure to read and I my daydreams of a new man were quickly replaced with daydreams of a pleasant pen-pal marriage. (Yes, I'm so weird, I know.) I was almost giddy!
But there was one thing wrong with the letter. He said he didn't want to sell the house. I was totally expecting that, but it ate at me. It didn't make me feel guilty for thinking about moving. Somehow, it actually firmed my resolve not to go down with the ship. I was just thinking that I would put that in my next letter when my phone rang. A friend of mine invited me out to coffee.
This friend recently moved back to this area, where she grew up, because her husband was having an affair. We have a lot in common because we both were betrayed and suffered from our husbands' bad choices. We both showed up happy to the coffee shop, though. She told me she had just received a phone call from her husband the night before. He was crying (Crying! she emphasized) and asking her to come back. She said "maybe". I told her about my almost perfect letter. Then we started sounding off each other. I asked her if she could really trust him. I shared my doubts that a cheating man will ever change. She listened to all my options about leaving or staying and she said, "Evie, you could really be happy somewhere else. You could find love again." I wish I had said it back to her because it is true for both of us. Instead we started joking about how to properly screen a potential mate (more on that later). In the end, I think we left the coffee shop a little sobered by each other. I wonder if that's why she called me. Did she think I would understand her excitement over the phone call from her cheating husband more than her mother or sisters who are in good relationships? Did she know I would reflect my own pain back on her, reminding her why she really shouldn't go back? I wonder.
Oh yeah, when I told her about my current job search and how I was hoping I would hear from the job I'm really interested in before the job I just applied to as a back-up, she said, "I think the job you get first is the job God wants you to have." I don't usually think that way, but it sure would be nice if God would put up some big road signs.
That night, another one of my friends called totally out of the blue to tell me her man troubles. I explained my day to her and that all I would give her is negative opinions about the opposite sex. Then we moved on to financial stuff. She happens to be in the foreclosure business, so she has some ideas about houses and bankruptcy. I told her that my dad keeps suggesting bankruptcy for me and I keep ignoring him. She gave me the 411 on bankruptcy and told me that I'm a "good candidate" for it. As she talked, I thought, Is this a road sign, God? Is bankruptcy really my future? And then she also reiterated the idea that I deserve better, that I should move on, like everyone who cares about me says - except my husband.
So that brings me to the final thing. At 2:30am I wrote several pages to Jake about my anger over the massive credit card debt that I took onto my credit cards to save him from default on his own two years ago. I pointed out that he hasn't once thanked me or apologized for that gesture, as if that was just a normal task of a wife. I told him that I was considering bankruptcy and how unfair that it is me and not him since it is his debt. I told him that my credit score went from the mid-700s to the low-500s because of that, but he never asked or cared, although he was plenty concerned about his own credit score. It is all just so unfair and I feel so foolish for ever falling into it. And then I asked God to relieve me of my anger so I could sleep.
It was a weird day with so many abnormal occurrences that I feel there must have been meaning to it all. The letter, coffee, the phone call. What is the theme? What are the road signs? Leave now? File for bankruptcy? Or was it just another day in a meaningless, chaotic world?
But I came running back to tell you about my weird day yesterday.
Despite all my recent dreams about moving on in the world of relationships, I spent the last week anxiously awaiting a letter from Jake. In my last letter, I told him how scared I was about the mortgage. I told him I wouldn't stay here and let the mortgage suck me dry, no matter how much I love the house. I told him he should think about selling it and that I was packing.
Around the time I sent the letter, I told his parents something similar. Kay seems to get it and supported the idea of selling the house, but Big Rev is classically in denial. He said, "Well, I think your moving too fast on this," and "We should wait to see what happens," and even "Are you going to leave the house to go into foreclosure?" And I, in my own classic form, get riled up, snap at him that this is not my fault, and then feel guilty about it for days.
Big Rev really did work on me and made me feel guilty. I was anxious about the letter because I thought I had started a fight with Jake, like I always do with Big Rev. After all, Jake is the one that I really want to yell at.
But when I got the letter yesterday, it was so nice! It was full of suggestions for items among his belongings that I could sell. He even managed to get through the whole letter without any self-pity or excuses - unheard of! It was actually a pleasure to read and I my daydreams of a new man were quickly replaced with daydreams of a pleasant pen-pal marriage. (Yes, I'm so weird, I know.) I was almost giddy!
But there was one thing wrong with the letter. He said he didn't want to sell the house. I was totally expecting that, but it ate at me. It didn't make me feel guilty for thinking about moving. Somehow, it actually firmed my resolve not to go down with the ship. I was just thinking that I would put that in my next letter when my phone rang. A friend of mine invited me out to coffee.
This friend recently moved back to this area, where she grew up, because her husband was having an affair. We have a lot in common because we both were betrayed and suffered from our husbands' bad choices. We both showed up happy to the coffee shop, though. She told me she had just received a phone call from her husband the night before. He was crying (Crying! she emphasized) and asking her to come back. She said "maybe". I told her about my almost perfect letter. Then we started sounding off each other. I asked her if she could really trust him. I shared my doubts that a cheating man will ever change. She listened to all my options about leaving or staying and she said, "Evie, you could really be happy somewhere else. You could find love again." I wish I had said it back to her because it is true for both of us. Instead we started joking about how to properly screen a potential mate (more on that later). In the end, I think we left the coffee shop a little sobered by each other. I wonder if that's why she called me. Did she think I would understand her excitement over the phone call from her cheating husband more than her mother or sisters who are in good relationships? Did she know I would reflect my own pain back on her, reminding her why she really shouldn't go back? I wonder.
Oh yeah, when I told her about my current job search and how I was hoping I would hear from the job I'm really interested in before the job I just applied to as a back-up, she said, "I think the job you get first is the job God wants you to have." I don't usually think that way, but it sure would be nice if God would put up some big road signs.
That night, another one of my friends called totally out of the blue to tell me her man troubles. I explained my day to her and that all I would give her is negative opinions about the opposite sex. Then we moved on to financial stuff. She happens to be in the foreclosure business, so she has some ideas about houses and bankruptcy. I told her that my dad keeps suggesting bankruptcy for me and I keep ignoring him. She gave me the 411 on bankruptcy and told me that I'm a "good candidate" for it. As she talked, I thought, Is this a road sign, God? Is bankruptcy really my future? And then she also reiterated the idea that I deserve better, that I should move on, like everyone who cares about me says - except my husband.
So that brings me to the final thing. At 2:30am I wrote several pages to Jake about my anger over the massive credit card debt that I took onto my credit cards to save him from default on his own two years ago. I pointed out that he hasn't once thanked me or apologized for that gesture, as if that was just a normal task of a wife. I told him that I was considering bankruptcy and how unfair that it is me and not him since it is his debt. I told him that my credit score went from the mid-700s to the low-500s because of that, but he never asked or cared, although he was plenty concerned about his own credit score. It is all just so unfair and I feel so foolish for ever falling into it. And then I asked God to relieve me of my anger so I could sleep.
It was a weird day with so many abnormal occurrences that I feel there must have been meaning to it all. The letter, coffee, the phone call. What is the theme? What are the road signs? Leave now? File for bankruptcy? Or was it just another day in a meaningless, chaotic world?
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
February 16, 2011 (Part One)
I remember quite clearly the moment my husband called to tell me that his boss, the principal at the high school, had sent him home because a student had reported him. Recalling that moment is so clear that I can feel the blood draining from my cheeks now just as it did on that day.
It was a lovely day in February. I was still running on a birth-high since I had Sabrina just three weeks earlier. Sabrina was so perfect, so calm and content. Elise, my first daughter, was happily playing. She was content, too. It was a good day until he called.
I had a visitor at that time. She worked with a local non-profit that provided developmental information for parents. I was enjoying her visit. But her presence made the situation so strange. I answered the phone, knowing from the caller ID that it was Jake. It was odd that he was calling in the middle of the school day. He said he was coming home and his voice sounded strained. I can't recall the exact words he said. He was babbling a little. His words were muffled, soggy. Was he crying?
I was just staring at my visitor while I was still on the phone. Normally, I'm a bit over-dramatic when things get stressful, but not that day. Some part of me that I had never met before said, Act normal, Evie, and send her away. This is not something you want to share with outsiders. This is something you protect and bury as fast as possible.
Before that moment, I thought I'd be the type of person who would turn my own mother into the police if she stepped out of line. I'm such a believer in rules. And yet, when the moment came, I instantly put up the shield of protection - at least for the moment.
I told Jake that we'd talk when he got home and hung up. With smiles and apologies, I sent the visitor away. I turned on the television to distract Elise from the serious conversation that I anticipated.
Jake arrived home with a red, tear-streaked face. I hugged him. I wanted so much to take away whatever bad situation had just occurred. I wanted to protect him. I know that seems ridiculous because he is the one who broke the law, the one who was in a position of responsibility - he was to be blamed, not pitied. And yet, he was the one I knew and the one I loved and he was in distress.
He was babbling still, through a runny nose and tears. He seemed so much like a confused child. I tried to listen to what he was saying. He said the girl had told him that she had a crush on him. She had tried to kiss him, but he had stopped her. He told her that he couldn't risk his family and career. She had gone to the principal to report him.
It was so hard to understand him. This was not the man I was used to. Jake usually took pride in being calm in any stressful situation. He never let his cool down. It would have been a relief to see him so sincerely emotional, except that it meant a whole world of hurt was coming down on him.
I told him to take a moment to calm himself and we would talk after. For just a minute, he sat at the dining table. Then he got up and went to his office, saying that he had to do some things. I was perplexed that there was anything he needed to do that would come to mind in such an awful situation. But then, stress always drives him to work hard and keep busy. I just comforted myself that he would come to me when he was ready.
I was worried, but it was easy to find things to distract myself with. For God's sake, I had a three-week-old baby and a two-year-old! The next thing I knew, Jake was sitting on the sofa with his business laptop in front of him and the television turned to one of his favorite channels. It was like it was any normal day of the week.
I sat down with him and asked what he was doing.
"Scrubbing the hard drives." That answer challenged my not-so-technical brain a little. I took a second look at the laptop. I noticed, as I looked closer, that it was hooked-up to a portable hard drive that he used as a back-up sometimes. I realized he was erasing it and that made me a little uncomfortable.
But then, I thought about how he liked to look at porn on the internet sometimes. He's just scared and trying to make himself look better in case the school investigates him, I thought. I felt a sense of relief as I convinced myself that he was overreacting. [Now I look back at this moment and think I'm an idiot. A very trusting, lovable idiot].
I said, "Don't you think that will make you look guilty?" He just shrugged.
As the day wore on, I convinced myself that this was all just a misunderstanding. A teenage girl had misplaced emotions for her teacher. The school Superintendent would see that, right? They would clear it all up and he would be back at work the next day.
Later, he had a meeting to go to. It was a community business development group that he had recently joined. He was unsure if he should go or not. I encouraged him to go, live life as normal. "Nothing is likely to happen tonight, right?" So he went.
It wasn't a half hour later that I received a call asking for Jake. The caller, a woman, didn't identify herself, so I was a little on guard. I told her to call back in a few hours. Ten minutes later she called again and identified herself as our Chief of Police. She said it was really important that she talk to him. I told her where he was and his cell phone number.
As luck would have it, Jake's cell phone had a technical issue where it would regularly shut itself off, so he never knew that the police were calling him. As he left the meeting, he called me and I told him to just drive to the police station. As I mentioned before, I am a rule follower. I was so good at "obeying" that fascist dictators would have loved me. I just had a lot of faith in the system and law enforcement. I still do to a degree, but I won't jump so quickly to cooperate anymore.
I didn't here from Jake for hours. I paced aimlessly around the house, holding Sabrina in my arms, trying to keep my mind busy. I called the police department a few times, but they would only tell me that he was there and nothing more. I called Kay, his mom, to see if she knew anything different, but she didn't. At one point, I was so anxious that I begged her to go to the police station, but she said that he didn't need his mother watching over him. In hindsight, she was right, he needed a lawyer to tell him to be quiet.
The police talked to him about the girl. He was open with them. He told them more about the incident than he told his wife. He admitted that he had been talking with her for a while (weeks, I think, but maybe longer). He admitted to friending her on Facebook. He even explained to them how he had run his hand down the front of her chest on the outside of her clothes when she had tried to kiss him (he conveniently left that part out when he told me). They had him write a letter of apology to the student. When I heard about the letter months later, I really wondered at the intelligence of this man - did he not see that this was just a ploy to get a written confession?! Maybe I have watched too many cop shows.
They asked him for permission to view his computers. He agreed and called to forewarn me that they were coming. Just thinking about what comes next raises my pulse and my temper . . . But that will be Part Two of the worst day of my life.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Dear Jake,
(written 2-16-2012)
Today marked a year since you were first arrested. I thought I would be angry and bitter, and I am, but I'm also very sad.
I was happy right after Sabrina was born. I thought you were, too. I thought we were starting to work out all our problems. I thought we were going to be okay.
Now it doesn't seem like anything will be okay. I feel like we're going to lose everything we were working for. I thought I could at least keep our home and a place in the community, but even those seem questionable now.
I miss the man I thought you were. I believe you could have been that man without all the hidden stuff, if you really wanted to be. You could have gotten help. You are smart enough to know that you were breaking the law and endangering your kids.
I know the chances are high that you will go to prison. I just hope that you will get treatment at some point and enter the world again as the man you should have been to begin with.
As much as I love and miss you, I can't forgive your lies and betrayals until you prove that you can live in a decent and honest way.
You might want to hold onto this letter because I don't plan to say these things again in the near future: you are loved and missed by more than just me.
Evie
P.S. Don't respond to this letter. I don't want your explanations and excuses.
I was happy right after Sabrina was born. I thought you were, too. I thought we were starting to work out all our problems. I thought we were going to be okay.
Now it doesn't seem like anything will be okay. I feel like we're going to lose everything we were working for. I thought I could at least keep our home and a place in the community, but even those seem questionable now.
I miss the man I thought you were. I believe you could have been that man without all the hidden stuff, if you really wanted to be. You could have gotten help. You are smart enough to know that you were breaking the law and endangering your kids.
I know the chances are high that you will go to prison. I just hope that you will get treatment at some point and enter the world again as the man you should have been to begin with.
As much as I love and miss you, I can't forgive your lies and betrayals until you prove that you can live in a decent and honest way.
You might want to hold onto this letter because I don't plan to say these things again in the near future: you are loved and missed by more than just me.
Evie
P.S. Don't respond to this letter. I don't want your explanations and excuses.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The Anniversary of the Day it All Went to Hell
I am so tired today. I can barely function because I just want to close my eyes. But sitting still, even sleeping, gives my brain too much freedom to contemplate this whole awful situation. So, I thought that my weariness was a result of lack of sleep. As I went through our morning routine, I really thought that I was okay emotionally. I was just tired.
I managed to get the girls to daycare early. Then I went to Jake's parents' house. Down in their basement is where he lived during last year's legal nightmare and there is a make-shift office where he managed his personal business. I thought I should check his office to see if anything important was left hanging. The first room I came to was the bedroom. He hadn't been sleeping there for months because work release requires that he sleep in jail, but the room still held evidence of him: some dirty shirts on the bed, some mail, chapstick, pocket knife, and the like. I thought I was doing fine, but walking into that room was like taking the thin veil of strength away from my character. I crumpled onto the floor. I scooped up his dirty shirts and hugged them. I was like a hysterical grieving widow, moaning and sobbing.
I dragged myself to the office after a few minutes. Like magic, the tears went away and I felt level again. I picked up the few pieces of paper that looked really necessary. I seemed to have a hard time finding a way to hold the papers and looked down to realize that I was still hugging the shirts from his room. I went back to the room with the excuse that I should look at the mail in there. Again, I fell apart. This time, I told the room and the empty bed that I wanted him back.
I went back upstairs and cried with his dad for a minute. But Big Rev kept talking about how he's lost his help around the farm and how he'll have to sell the farm now because there is no one to inherit it. I think it is just his cover story for his own grief, but the selfish nature of it (whether real or not) was too disgusting to me. I left.
In the car I started sobbing again. Finally being alone, I let loose. "I want him back! DAMN IT, I WANT MY HUSBAND BACK! I WANT MY HAPPINESS BACK! WHY, DAMN IT! Why? Why, God? Why . . . "
My friend called just as I was running out of steam. She has a knack for good timing. She calmed me down, comforted me, gave me strength. Then Kay called. The first thing she asked, as if it was the most important thing in the world, was if I had taken the dirty shirts on the bed. I said yes. She said that she had pulled them out of the laundry basket and left them, "Because sometimes," her voice cracked, "sometimes when people are grieving . . . " We both started crying. I knew before she said it that she kept them to preserve his scent. And I admitted to her that I took them for that same reason. Through choking sobs and sniffles, she made me promise not to wash them. I have never before known her to be so sentimental.
Then she asked me for permission to wash his dirty socks and we both laughed.
Today is the anniversary of the first time that Jake was arrested. Big Rev and Kay and I didn't need to acknowledge that to each other. We all feel the grief more strongly today for good reason. I was going to use this post to tell you about what happened that day, one year ago, but it will have to wait a day or two. I'm still just so tired and I don't think I can face it right now.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Are you going to stay?
That is the question everyone seems to be asking me since the paper came out today with Jake's mugshot on the front. I saw the paper while I was at the bank asking for an application. Good timing. Would you like to hire me? Oh look, that's my husband! I actually sat down, right there in the bank waiting room and read the story. I don't think anyone noticed me. Then I laid the paper down face first. I would have liked to throw it away, but it wasn't mine to toss.
But back to the topic. Am I leaving? I don't know. Everyone who cares about me is saying, "It's time to go." I heard this a lot last year and I kept saying, "Not yet. There's still a chance he'll get probation and be able to be a part of the family." And he got work release, which is almost the same thing, but it's gone again now. Now it's more likely that he'll go the prison for a very long time. So it seems I'm on my own.
Jake's own mother told me to just sell the house. That makes me so sad because it is my home. I love this house. I don't want to give it up, but I can't afford the mortgage without Jake's help. But actually, I can't even sell the house because it is in his name.
Even without the mortgage to worry about, we have massive credit card debt (spending was his other addiction). I'm in trouble and I can't see the light yet. The other day, I was obsessively going through my financial options and I figured that I would have to make $16 per hour to pay all the bills (and that was after I used my emergency money to pay down our highest credit card bill and then froze most of the other credit cards). We live in a rural area where most of the jobs that I can apply for would pay $9 maybe. Just to clarify for the sake of my pride, I have a graduate degree, but I would have to move to the jobs that would use it.
So I guess these are my options: stay and sink in the mire of debt or go somewhere else to stay afloat. It sounds like an easy choice, right? But what about the community I have come to love? What about my support system that I have here? Those won't move with me.
Despite my reluctance to move, I see the writing on the wall, so I've started to pack. Well, actually, I'm continuing the packing I started. I'll pack his stuff first and then mine. Hopefully, I'll be ready to go when the time comes.
But back to the topic. Am I leaving? I don't know. Everyone who cares about me is saying, "It's time to go." I heard this a lot last year and I kept saying, "Not yet. There's still a chance he'll get probation and be able to be a part of the family." And he got work release, which is almost the same thing, but it's gone again now. Now it's more likely that he'll go the prison for a very long time. So it seems I'm on my own.
Jake's own mother told me to just sell the house. That makes me so sad because it is my home. I love this house. I don't want to give it up, but I can't afford the mortgage without Jake's help. But actually, I can't even sell the house because it is in his name.
Even without the mortgage to worry about, we have massive credit card debt (spending was his other addiction). I'm in trouble and I can't see the light yet. The other day, I was obsessively going through my financial options and I figured that I would have to make $16 per hour to pay all the bills (and that was after I used my emergency money to pay down our highest credit card bill and then froze most of the other credit cards). We live in a rural area where most of the jobs that I can apply for would pay $9 maybe. Just to clarify for the sake of my pride, I have a graduate degree, but I would have to move to the jobs that would use it.
So I guess these are my options: stay and sink in the mire of debt or go somewhere else to stay afloat. It sounds like an easy choice, right? But what about the community I have come to love? What about my support system that I have here? Those won't move with me.
Despite my reluctance to move, I see the writing on the wall, so I've started to pack. Well, actually, I'm continuing the packing I started. I'll pack his stuff first and then mine. Hopefully, I'll be ready to go when the time comes.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Dreaded V-day
Seven years ago today, I received flowers from a man that I had only talked to on the phone for a few weeks. It seemed like a good love, formed from a real friendship.
One year ago, that same man was enjoying a moment of sexual tension with one of his teenage students in his classroom. I was at home with our newborn baby and two year old child. I didn't mind that he didn't bring me any flowers or gifts. I was just content to have a kiss. He seemed restless that night. We both had some insomnia, during which he said to me, "A student told me that she has a crush on me."
"Hmm, well, just stay away from her, okay? Don't give her any ideas that you share her feelings." I had no clue what was really happening. I was purely worried that he would give the girl the wrong impression by being nice to her. Jake was the kind of teacher that teenagers liked and sometimes he seemed to forget he wasn't a teenager himself.
Someday I'll tell you about things that Jake had said to me that will make you wonder if I'm the world's biggest idiot. I had more than enough evidence in front of me to know that Jake had at least one inappropriate relationship with a student before I married him. And yet, the facts seemed fuzzy and the Jake I knew seemed so trustworthy that I honestly missed the boat completely. In hindsight it seems so silly to say that I didn't see this coming . . . but I didn't. I remember falling asleep that night feeling thankful to have my strong husband by my side. He was the husband who was so honest with his wife that he told her uncomfortable things, such as a student with a misplaced crush. I was truly happy that night.
Today turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I finished filling out Elise's first set of valentine cards for her friends at daycare as we hurried to get ready this morning. I made myself a double-sized mug of coffee because I missed some sleep last night. I bought some chocolate and ate it during my therapy appointment. I cried a little. I went back home and searched online for jobs to apply to (dismal pickings). Then I picked the girls up from daycare. I stopped at the florist, thinking it would be nice to treat ourselves to some flowers, but when I saw the prices I almost cried again. Elise was disappointed that we didn't get something, so it was lucky that the grocery store had mini roses and balloons on sale. I'm going to finish off my chocolates and go to bed. No more worrying about the man who ruined V-day.
One year ago, that same man was enjoying a moment of sexual tension with one of his teenage students in his classroom. I was at home with our newborn baby and two year old child. I didn't mind that he didn't bring me any flowers or gifts. I was just content to have a kiss. He seemed restless that night. We both had some insomnia, during which he said to me, "A student told me that she has a crush on me."
"Hmm, well, just stay away from her, okay? Don't give her any ideas that you share her feelings." I had no clue what was really happening. I was purely worried that he would give the girl the wrong impression by being nice to her. Jake was the kind of teacher that teenagers liked and sometimes he seemed to forget he wasn't a teenager himself.
Someday I'll tell you about things that Jake had said to me that will make you wonder if I'm the world's biggest idiot. I had more than enough evidence in front of me to know that Jake had at least one inappropriate relationship with a student before I married him. And yet, the facts seemed fuzzy and the Jake I knew seemed so trustworthy that I honestly missed the boat completely. In hindsight it seems so silly to say that I didn't see this coming . . . but I didn't. I remember falling asleep that night feeling thankful to have my strong husband by my side. He was the husband who was so honest with his wife that he told her uncomfortable things, such as a student with a misplaced crush. I was truly happy that night.
Today turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I finished filling out Elise's first set of valentine cards for her friends at daycare as we hurried to get ready this morning. I made myself a double-sized mug of coffee because I missed some sleep last night. I bought some chocolate and ate it during my therapy appointment. I cried a little. I went back home and searched online for jobs to apply to (dismal pickings). Then I picked the girls up from daycare. I stopped at the florist, thinking it would be nice to treat ourselves to some flowers, but when I saw the prices I almost cried again. Elise was disappointed that we didn't get something, so it was lucky that the grocery store had mini roses and balloons on sale. I'm going to finish off my chocolates and go to bed. No more worrying about the man who ruined V-day.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Advisement Hearing (and Aftermath)
Jake was advised of his rights and charges today in court. I attended it with his parents, Big Rev and Kay. It was very hard. First, it was two hours late in starting. Second, it was painfully obvious that this is not going to have a good ending for our family.
The judge gave Jake his rights (a lawyer, silence, yadda yadda). Then he read the charge: sexual assault on a minor. There were no details, like when or who, which we were hoping for. Then he allowed the district attorney to argue bail. She asked for a $500,000 bail based on factors that included his character and his concealment of this alleged crime during last year's court dealings (his previous charges). She also discussed some confusing things, such as a possible ethics violation because Jake didn't disclose this alleged crime to his previous lawyer. Really, much of what the DA talked about was confusing and, in my view, not relevant. I mean, really, is a person required to disclose previous crimes to their lawyer if they didn't hire the lawyer to deal with those crimes? Either I misunderstood or I'm horribly ignorant.
The part that made us all jump was when the DA said that the victim had received 17 death threats by phone since she reported Jake. Jake looked at us with this horrified, questioning expression. I threw up my hands to show that I knew nothing about it. The DA pointed out that they know from the jail phone records that Jake didn't make the threats, but she suggested that he asked someone else to do it. The mere suggestion that any of us might be blamed for the threats made us panic. But we all came to our senses enough to realize that phone records are easy for law enforcement to get, right? Hopefully this will be cleared up quickly.
Right after I wrote that, Kay called to let me know that an officer was on his way to my house. She said he just wanted Jake's cell phone and that he was very polite.
The officer arrived 10 minutes later. I opened the door and handed the phone out. He said he was investigating the death threats and wanted to ask me questions. I said that I'd prefer to talk only with my lawyer present, but I added that I didn't make them and I didn't ask anyone else to make them.
He asked me if I have the victim's phone number. That was an interesting question because I have a guess who reported Jake and, if I'm guessing right, I do have her number. But they didn't say the victim's name in court, so I don't know for sure. It would be a simple thing to say, "Is this the number you mean?" Only, I can't do that for the following reasons:
Anyhow, when he asked me if I had her number, I said, "They didn't say the name of the victim in court, so I don't know if I have her number. Can you tell me her name?"
"No ma'am."
"Then I can't tell you if I have her number." Dead end road.
He then asked if I could think of anyone who might make death threats. He suggested that it might be someone who just wants to help Jake, but is going about it the wrong way. I had this sudden thought that it might be another one of his former students, maybe someone who idolized him. I was really thankful in that moment that I didn't know any of his students. What if it is some young person thinking that this is on the same level as a prank phone call? Will they be dressed in orange, waiting in front of the judge to hear their charges soon? God, that would be so sad. I don't want to think of any other lives being ruined because of Jake's actions.
Finally, the officer left with my promise that my lawyer would call him tomorrow.
I called Big Rev and Kay to reassure them about the visit. I repeated to Big Rev that the officer had said that they were unsure which county would lead the investigation into the death threats. Big Rev mentioned that the woman we think made the accusations - the one whose phone number I have - was his student when he taught in a neighboring county. I told him that couldn't be right because the charges were brought in our county and they only press charges in the county where the crime occurred. By the end of our conversation, we lost our conviction that we knew who the accuser is. On one hand, it sucks because we don't want to find out that he has any other victims. On the other hand, I'd be so relieved to find out that the accuser is not the woman I've talked to simply because I want to stay out of the drama. Again, selfish selfish selfish.
It hurt Big Rev that I suggested that this was yet another woman. I probably came off as callous to him. But really, I have come to accept the likelihood that Jake has more victims then he has admitted. It just isn't going to surprise me if they start lining up to accuse him.
The judge gave Jake his rights (a lawyer, silence, yadda yadda). Then he read the charge: sexual assault on a minor. There were no details, like when or who, which we were hoping for. Then he allowed the district attorney to argue bail. She asked for a $500,000 bail based on factors that included his character and his concealment of this alleged crime during last year's court dealings (his previous charges). She also discussed some confusing things, such as a possible ethics violation because Jake didn't disclose this alleged crime to his previous lawyer. Really, much of what the DA talked about was confusing and, in my view, not relevant. I mean, really, is a person required to disclose previous crimes to their lawyer if they didn't hire the lawyer to deal with those crimes? Either I misunderstood or I'm horribly ignorant.
The part that made us all jump was when the DA said that the victim had received 17 death threats by phone since she reported Jake. Jake looked at us with this horrified, questioning expression. I threw up my hands to show that I knew nothing about it. The DA pointed out that they know from the jail phone records that Jake didn't make the threats, but she suggested that he asked someone else to do it. The mere suggestion that any of us might be blamed for the threats made us panic. But we all came to our senses enough to realize that phone records are easy for law enforcement to get, right? Hopefully this will be cleared up quickly.
Right after I wrote that, Kay called to let me know that an officer was on his way to my house. She said he just wanted Jake's cell phone and that he was very polite.
The officer arrived 10 minutes later. I opened the door and handed the phone out. He said he was investigating the death threats and wanted to ask me questions. I said that I'd prefer to talk only with my lawyer present, but I added that I didn't make them and I didn't ask anyone else to make them.
He asked me if I have the victim's phone number. That was an interesting question because I have a guess who reported Jake and, if I'm guessing right, I do have her number. But they didn't say the victim's name in court, so I don't know for sure. It would be a simple thing to say, "Is this the number you mean?" Only, I can't do that for the following reasons:
- She asked me not to ever mention her to the police.
- I have reasons to doubt her honesty.
- I don't want to add fuel to the fire.
- I don't want to be on a suspect list for death threats.
- She is an adult and doesn't need my help to talk to the police.
Anyhow, when he asked me if I had her number, I said, "They didn't say the name of the victim in court, so I don't know if I have her number. Can you tell me her name?"
"No ma'am."
"Then I can't tell you if I have her number." Dead end road.
He then asked if I could think of anyone who might make death threats. He suggested that it might be someone who just wants to help Jake, but is going about it the wrong way. I had this sudden thought that it might be another one of his former students, maybe someone who idolized him. I was really thankful in that moment that I didn't know any of his students. What if it is some young person thinking that this is on the same level as a prank phone call? Will they be dressed in orange, waiting in front of the judge to hear their charges soon? God, that would be so sad. I don't want to think of any other lives being ruined because of Jake's actions.
Finally, the officer left with my promise that my lawyer would call him tomorrow.
I called Big Rev and Kay to reassure them about the visit. I repeated to Big Rev that the officer had said that they were unsure which county would lead the investigation into the death threats. Big Rev mentioned that the woman we think made the accusations - the one whose phone number I have - was his student when he taught in a neighboring county. I told him that couldn't be right because the charges were brought in our county and they only press charges in the county where the crime occurred. By the end of our conversation, we lost our conviction that we knew who the accuser is. On one hand, it sucks because we don't want to find out that he has any other victims. On the other hand, I'd be so relieved to find out that the accuser is not the woman I've talked to simply because I want to stay out of the drama. Again, selfish selfish selfish.
It hurt Big Rev that I suggested that this was yet another woman. I probably came off as callous to him. But really, I have come to accept the likelihood that Jake has more victims then he has admitted. It just isn't going to surprise me if they start lining up to accuse him.
Haunted
Sometime today, there will be an advisement on the charges for Jake's most recent arrest. At the moment, we have no idea what he was arrested for.
I sit here at the computer in the mornings with Sabrina on my lap, trying to wake her up a little. I can't take a shower until she is awake enough to sit on the bathroom floor and play. Such is the life of a single mom. (By the way, any moms who have steady partners that don't help them do things, like take a shower. That's a red flag. Just remember, you hold the baby every time he showers, right?)
So while I gently wake my baby, I go through emails and catch up on stuff. Well, this morning I was going through old gardening pictures. I came across some family pictures I scanned for Jake's parents two Christmas's ago. And there was Clyde. Clyde was the farm hand that molested and sexually abused Jake and his sisters. I had three pictures of him being goofy with bananas and a lamp shade. (Another red flag. When a grown person makes a fool of themselves to win over your children, be damned sure you are always aware of when they are with your children and what they are doing.)
I thought I had actually deleted those pictures long ago because Jake told me that Clyde had possibly hurt his oldest sister (I don't know if he just didn't remember his own abuse at that time or he just didn't want to tell me). But there were the pictures of Clyde smiling at me.
"This is your fault," I said, thoroughly knowing that I was talking to a computer screen. I deleted the pictures. No one needs Clyde in their lives.
Really, I can't blame Clyde for everything. He molested all of Jake's siblings, and yet Jake is the only one to follow in his footsteps. Jake has made his own choices. I just wish the cycle of sexual sickness would end. How many of Jake's victims are continuing in his footsteps?
Better question: How many victims does Jake have? We might find out today.
I sit here at the computer in the mornings with Sabrina on my lap, trying to wake her up a little. I can't take a shower until she is awake enough to sit on the bathroom floor and play. Such is the life of a single mom. (By the way, any moms who have steady partners that don't help them do things, like take a shower. That's a red flag. Just remember, you hold the baby every time he showers, right?)
So while I gently wake my baby, I go through emails and catch up on stuff. Well, this morning I was going through old gardening pictures. I came across some family pictures I scanned for Jake's parents two Christmas's ago. And there was Clyde. Clyde was the farm hand that molested and sexually abused Jake and his sisters. I had three pictures of him being goofy with bananas and a lamp shade. (Another red flag. When a grown person makes a fool of themselves to win over your children, be damned sure you are always aware of when they are with your children and what they are doing.)
I thought I had actually deleted those pictures long ago because Jake told me that Clyde had possibly hurt his oldest sister (I don't know if he just didn't remember his own abuse at that time or he just didn't want to tell me). But there were the pictures of Clyde smiling at me.
"This is your fault," I said, thoroughly knowing that I was talking to a computer screen. I deleted the pictures. No one needs Clyde in their lives.
Really, I can't blame Clyde for everything. He molested all of Jake's siblings, and yet Jake is the only one to follow in his footsteps. Jake has made his own choices. I just wish the cycle of sexual sickness would end. How many of Jake's victims are continuing in his footsteps?
Better question: How many victims does Jake have? We might find out today.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Jake was arrested.
I have nothing more to say right now. I just want to survive the weekend without falling to pieces.
The New Investigation
The District Attorney's Investigator called me today. Somewhat apologetically, he said, "You may remember me . . ."
"Yes, from one of the worst days of my life," I replied, referencing the night that he basically interrogated Jake and me in our own kitchen.
He then asked if I would answer a few questions pertaining to a new investigation into new accusations against Jake. I felt faint and started shaking, like all the blood was leaving me.
I said, "Please, I can't." I started crying. I was having flashbacks of the year I just went through - the year I thought was over!
He said something like, "You could help these young women who are victims . . ." Women?! Multiple women?
I managed to keep my head attached and told him I would talk to my lawyer first. That's who I called next and cried to her, "Please tell me I don't have to talk to him. I can't go through this again!" She instructed me to call him back and plan an appointment to meet with him, but only with her present.
Talking with him again, he gave me some BS about, "I don't know why you need to talk to a lawyer. You're not in trouble. This won't take long. I'm confused about why you think you need a lawyer to protect you - do you have information?" He talked in a simpering manner, like he was so friendly and caring. He chose the wrong act to pull on me because insincere kindness makes me mad.
I snapped at him, "I went through hell last year in court with Social Services. Don't judge me for wanting the guidance of a lawyer!" I gave him her number and hung up.
My lawyer ended up talking to him on the phone. She invoked spousal privilege for me and told him that I had no personal knowledge of anything Jake may have done. Then she called me back to tell me that I didn't need to meet with him after all and he is not allowed to contact me directly. God, I was so relieved.
Then she reminded me that investigators are allowed to lie and manipulate (like I don't have enough of that in my life), so I should keep that in mind as she told me the following. The investigator told her that they already have an arrest warrant for Jake. My heart sank.
I don't want to replay last year. I don't want to go to court hearings and cry every time. Maybe the investigator was lying about the warrant - I've heard that line on Law&Order enough to know how they use it to get more info. But maybe he isn't. If Jake is arrested I just may leave.
At the end of my conversation with my lawyer, I asked her about this blog. Am I putting information out that is too sensitive? I'm not sure what I'm worried about, but she is likely reviewing it right now. If this blog disappears and you never hear from me again, you can guess what her answer was.
"Yes, from one of the worst days of my life," I replied, referencing the night that he basically interrogated Jake and me in our own kitchen.
He then asked if I would answer a few questions pertaining to a new investigation into new accusations against Jake. I felt faint and started shaking, like all the blood was leaving me.
I said, "Please, I can't." I started crying. I was having flashbacks of the year I just went through - the year I thought was over!
He said something like, "You could help these young women who are victims . . ." Women?! Multiple women?
I managed to keep my head attached and told him I would talk to my lawyer first. That's who I called next and cried to her, "Please tell me I don't have to talk to him. I can't go through this again!" She instructed me to call him back and plan an appointment to meet with him, but only with her present.
Talking with him again, he gave me some BS about, "I don't know why you need to talk to a lawyer. You're not in trouble. This won't take long. I'm confused about why you think you need a lawyer to protect you - do you have information?" He talked in a simpering manner, like he was so friendly and caring. He chose the wrong act to pull on me because insincere kindness makes me mad.
I snapped at him, "I went through hell last year in court with Social Services. Don't judge me for wanting the guidance of a lawyer!" I gave him her number and hung up.
My lawyer ended up talking to him on the phone. She invoked spousal privilege for me and told him that I had no personal knowledge of anything Jake may have done. Then she called me back to tell me that I didn't need to meet with him after all and he is not allowed to contact me directly. God, I was so relieved.
Then she reminded me that investigators are allowed to lie and manipulate (like I don't have enough of that in my life), so I should keep that in mind as she told me the following. The investigator told her that they already have an arrest warrant for Jake. My heart sank.
I don't want to replay last year. I don't want to go to court hearings and cry every time. Maybe the investigator was lying about the warrant - I've heard that line on Law&Order enough to know how they use it to get more info. But maybe he isn't. If Jake is arrested I just may leave.
At the end of my conversation with my lawyer, I asked her about this blog. Am I putting information out that is too sensitive? I'm not sure what I'm worried about, but she is likely reviewing it right now. If this blog disappears and you never hear from me again, you can guess what her answer was.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Meet the PO, aka "The Hammer"
Today was full of drama. I am highly opposed to drama, mostly because I don't handle it well. When drama strikes, I get all shaky as I try to hold back the flood gates against the emotional reaction coming down. I almost always fail and then I pity the person who is there to watch me explode or cry myself into a puddle.
Anyhow, you remember the things I packed up a while back? I had delivered the boxes to the PO and hadn't heard any more. I wanted some kind of report about their whereabouts . . . Okay, okay, I really wanted to know what had happened. Was there a scene when the PO went through those things with Jake? Did it all go straight into an incinerator?
So I called his PO this morning. He said, "Yeah, I gave all those boxes to him."
"Wh- Wha- What? You gave them to him? He took ALL of those boxes?" That was not what was supposed to happen. I was starting to get shaky.
"Yes, he took all the boxes." He must have thought I sounded like a total loon.
"You didn't go through them with him?"
"No." He seemed to have a blunt sort of nature.
"But . . . But . . . There were sexual items in there that I don't think he is supposed to have. His treatment provider gave me the impression that you would go through that with him."
"No, that's not my responsibility."
"But he's not supposed to have those things, is he?" The pitch of my voice was getting higher as panic set in.
"No, and if I catch him with it I will arrest him."
I believe I squeaked with fear at this point, apologized for bothering him, and got off the phone. Then I burst into sobs. I really had thought that I was unloading all of Jake's crap in the "appropriate" way, but after talking to the PO I felt like I had truly made a mess. I tried to call the TP because she was the one who instructed me to send those boxes through the PO, but she was busy on another line. So then I called my own therapist. She calmed me a little.
I tried to continue with my day as normal, but I was totally freaked out. My imagination started running "worst possible scenarios" for me. My favorite imagined scene was of the PO sending the sheriff over to arrest Jake. I kept thinking to myself, What an idiot you are! First you send illegal things to Jake and then you tell his PO! Are you trying to get him arrested??? The rational part of my brain was trying to break through these self-destructive, everything-that-goes-wrong-must-be-my-fault kind of thoughts, but it failed miserably.
I called Big Rev. I really am not supposed to use Big Rev and Kay as messengers, but I didn't know what else to do (because I just HAD to solve this problem, you know?).
I said, "Did Jake bring home boxes?"
"Yes, I saw him carry some boxes in."
"Okay, there are three boxes that he should not have and they need to go straight to the dumpster." There was a strange silence, like maybe he was covering the phone. I asked, "Do you understand?"
He said, "Yes . . . what?" I could hear someone in the background - most likely Jake. Ugh, this was exactly what we were supposed to be avoiding. "He said he cut the boxes open, saw what was inside, and taped them up again."
"Okay. Is he going to get rid of them?"
"The problem will be resolved." He said that in a very final tone, so I said good bye.
Not an hour later, I got to worrying about that deputy sheriff that was on his way to arrest Jake (the imagined one). I thought that I needed to make sure that Big Rev understood the urgency. I called him back and asked if everything was okay. That was my code for "Tell me you disposed of the boxes." Instead of understanding my code, he just said, "Things are fine!"
So I asked straight-out if he had disposed of the boxes. He said it was being taken care of. Then I apologized and tried to explain while also trying to avoid the details of the story. I just made more and more of a mess with everything I said. At one point, I said that I was really upset with how things had worked out.
Big Rev said, "Then why did you send the boxes over?"
I started crying again because I DIDN'T SEND THE BOXES OVER! I tried to explain it to him, in an attempt to justify myself maybe, but just couldn't make sense of the situation.
Later, I got a hold of the TP. I explained everything that had happened. She neither seemed surprised or apologetic, although she did say that most POs would have gone through the items. "This PO must be different." No kidding.
I said to her, "I would have gotten rid of the boxes myself if I knew this would happen. For his PO to give him things that he could be arrested for feels like a set-up for failure! I don't want him to fail and I definitely don't want him arrested!"
She did make the effort to reassure me that the PO wouldn't bother sending a troop of officers to arrest Jake today. (It's like she read me mind!) And she told me that Jake had called her to report the boxes and ask what to do about them.
"That was good," she said, "but I wonder if he didn't do that after you called. Maybe he wasn't going to get rid of them until his dad and you told him to." I hope she's not right, but she might be.
"He needs to learn how to do the responsible thing," she continued. "He keeps blaming others for his mistakes. Is he going to come to our appointment this week and blame you for the content of those boxes?"
"I feel like it's my fault," I said.
"It's not your fault that he had those things to begin with. He knew he couldn't have those things around after he was arrested. He had plenty of opportunities to remove those from the house. This is not your fault."
At the end of our conversation, I said, "His PO kind of scared me. He was so gruff and robotic."
She said, "He has to be a hammer, so maybe that's how he does it."
This has been a long, hard day. I am sorry that I bought into the drama so easily. Really, looking back, I was the drama. At one point, I was even tempted to drive over to Big Rev's and take the boxes myself. I'm glad I didn't do that. But still, I feel like the system is much more designed to punish and trap, rather than aid in rehabilitation. I know Jake is a criminal, but he is also someone I care about. I want him to get better, not get trapped. Am I wrong to feel this way?
Anyhow, you remember the things I packed up a while back? I had delivered the boxes to the PO and hadn't heard any more. I wanted some kind of report about their whereabouts . . . Okay, okay, I really wanted to know what had happened. Was there a scene when the PO went through those things with Jake? Did it all go straight into an incinerator?
So I called his PO this morning. He said, "Yeah, I gave all those boxes to him."
"Wh- Wha- What? You gave them to him? He took ALL of those boxes?" That was not what was supposed to happen. I was starting to get shaky.
"Yes, he took all the boxes." He must have thought I sounded like a total loon.
"You didn't go through them with him?"
"No." He seemed to have a blunt sort of nature.
"But . . . But . . . There were sexual items in there that I don't think he is supposed to have. His treatment provider gave me the impression that you would go through that with him."
"No, that's not my responsibility."
"But he's not supposed to have those things, is he?" The pitch of my voice was getting higher as panic set in.
"No, and if I catch him with it I will arrest him."
I believe I squeaked with fear at this point, apologized for bothering him, and got off the phone. Then I burst into sobs. I really had thought that I was unloading all of Jake's crap in the "appropriate" way, but after talking to the PO I felt like I had truly made a mess. I tried to call the TP because she was the one who instructed me to send those boxes through the PO, but she was busy on another line. So then I called my own therapist. She calmed me a little.
I tried to continue with my day as normal, but I was totally freaked out. My imagination started running "worst possible scenarios" for me. My favorite imagined scene was of the PO sending the sheriff over to arrest Jake. I kept thinking to myself, What an idiot you are! First you send illegal things to Jake and then you tell his PO! Are you trying to get him arrested??? The rational part of my brain was trying to break through these self-destructive, everything-that-goes-wrong-must-be-my-fault kind of thoughts, but it failed miserably.
I called Big Rev. I really am not supposed to use Big Rev and Kay as messengers, but I didn't know what else to do (because I just HAD to solve this problem, you know?).
I said, "Did Jake bring home boxes?"
"Yes, I saw him carry some boxes in."
"Okay, there are three boxes that he should not have and they need to go straight to the dumpster." There was a strange silence, like maybe he was covering the phone. I asked, "Do you understand?"
He said, "Yes . . . what?" I could hear someone in the background - most likely Jake. Ugh, this was exactly what we were supposed to be avoiding. "He said he cut the boxes open, saw what was inside, and taped them up again."
"Okay. Is he going to get rid of them?"
"The problem will be resolved." He said that in a very final tone, so I said good bye.
Not an hour later, I got to worrying about that deputy sheriff that was on his way to arrest Jake (the imagined one). I thought that I needed to make sure that Big Rev understood the urgency. I called him back and asked if everything was okay. That was my code for "Tell me you disposed of the boxes." Instead of understanding my code, he just said, "Things are fine!"
So I asked straight-out if he had disposed of the boxes. He said it was being taken care of. Then I apologized and tried to explain while also trying to avoid the details of the story. I just made more and more of a mess with everything I said. At one point, I said that I was really upset with how things had worked out.
Big Rev said, "Then why did you send the boxes over?"
I started crying again because I DIDN'T SEND THE BOXES OVER! I tried to explain it to him, in an attempt to justify myself maybe, but just couldn't make sense of the situation.
Later, I got a hold of the TP. I explained everything that had happened. She neither seemed surprised or apologetic, although she did say that most POs would have gone through the items. "This PO must be different." No kidding.
I said to her, "I would have gotten rid of the boxes myself if I knew this would happen. For his PO to give him things that he could be arrested for feels like a set-up for failure! I don't want him to fail and I definitely don't want him arrested!"
She did make the effort to reassure me that the PO wouldn't bother sending a troop of officers to arrest Jake today. (It's like she read me mind!) And she told me that Jake had called her to report the boxes and ask what to do about them.
"That was good," she said, "but I wonder if he didn't do that after you called. Maybe he wasn't going to get rid of them until his dad and you told him to." I hope she's not right, but she might be.
"He needs to learn how to do the responsible thing," she continued. "He keeps blaming others for his mistakes. Is he going to come to our appointment this week and blame you for the content of those boxes?"
"I feel like it's my fault," I said.
"It's not your fault that he had those things to begin with. He knew he couldn't have those things around after he was arrested. He had plenty of opportunities to remove those from the house. This is not your fault."
At the end of our conversation, I said, "His PO kind of scared me. He was so gruff and robotic."
She said, "He has to be a hammer, so maybe that's how he does it."
This has been a long, hard day. I am sorry that I bought into the drama so easily. Really, looking back, I was the drama. At one point, I was even tempted to drive over to Big Rev's and take the boxes myself. I'm glad I didn't do that. But still, I feel like the system is much more designed to punish and trap, rather than aid in rehabilitation. I know Jake is a criminal, but he is also someone I care about. I want him to get better, not get trapped. Am I wrong to feel this way?
Thursday, February 2, 2012
My Baby's Birthday
Last week, we celebrated Sabrina's first birthday. It was a simple party with my mother, my in-laws, Elise and myself. We weren't a very exciting group, except for Elise when she was helping Sabrina unwrap the presents.
At one point, we were discussing weather. It's been a dry winter, yadda, yadda.
Kay said, "This time last year was also sunny and nice."
I tried to recall last year's weather, but I drew a blank. "I guess I don't remember."
"You don't remember?! You had the ride of your life that day and nearly gave birth in a car!"
I laughed at myself. Even though we were celebrating Sabrina's birthday, I hadn't thought once about the actual day of her birth!
It was a wild day. I labored at home, which was my plan, but we waited a little too long to leave for the hospital. I sat backwards in the passenger seat because sitting properly was unbearable with a baby's head pushing out. Jake drove the car and reached speeds well over 100 mph. Elise was strapped in the seat behind me. She managed to fall asleep on the drive despite the break-neck speeds and me moaning at full volume in her face.
I have vivid memories of the moments between contractions. There was no pain at all, only a euphoria of endorphins. I looked out the car windows and saw bright green fields (the color was likely amplified by my "high").
That day was beautiful. But the next day was even more so.
We were home again within a day. I had been laying on the sofa all morning, but Jake called me outside. I complained at first - I had just given birth to a baby! Let me rest!
"It's really nice out here. You have to see this." So I got up with the tiny baby in my arms and shuffled to the door, still skeptical. Elise also had to be persuaded to leave the house. But once we were outside, there was no question where I'd be staying until sunset. I think it was in the 70s with no wind (the lack of wind itself is a miracle). I was content to just sun-bathe for hours.
Jake entertained Elise at first by helping her ride her new tricycle. I watched them go round and round, so simple, so happy. Then Elise got distracted and Jake sat down with me. I handed him Sabrina. I have a picture of him holding her on that day. He's so comfortable, so tender.
Last night, we ate the leftover birthday cake at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Big Rev had his camera out, taking pictures of Sabrina standing on her own (her new trick). Then he handed me the camera to show me some old photos. There was Jake again, holding newborn Sabrina at the hospital. Again, so fatherly, so proud, so full of love.
Sometimes I will rage against Jake on this blog. You may forget for a while that I love him. He has offended me so deeply. And yet, deeper than that, I still love him. And I hope Elise and Sabrina find a way to still love him even though he can never play the traditional father role again. Someday, I hope Sabrina will treasure those pictures that captured the few moments when she really had a Daddy.
At one point, we were discussing weather. It's been a dry winter, yadda, yadda.
Kay said, "This time last year was also sunny and nice."
I tried to recall last year's weather, but I drew a blank. "I guess I don't remember."
"You don't remember?! You had the ride of your life that day and nearly gave birth in a car!"
I laughed at myself. Even though we were celebrating Sabrina's birthday, I hadn't thought once about the actual day of her birth!
It was a wild day. I labored at home, which was my plan, but we waited a little too long to leave for the hospital. I sat backwards in the passenger seat because sitting properly was unbearable with a baby's head pushing out. Jake drove the car and reached speeds well over 100 mph. Elise was strapped in the seat behind me. She managed to fall asleep on the drive despite the break-neck speeds and me moaning at full volume in her face.
I have vivid memories of the moments between contractions. There was no pain at all, only a euphoria of endorphins. I looked out the car windows and saw bright green fields (the color was likely amplified by my "high").
That day was beautiful. But the next day was even more so.
We were home again within a day. I had been laying on the sofa all morning, but Jake called me outside. I complained at first - I had just given birth to a baby! Let me rest!
"It's really nice out here. You have to see this." So I got up with the tiny baby in my arms and shuffled to the door, still skeptical. Elise also had to be persuaded to leave the house. But once we were outside, there was no question where I'd be staying until sunset. I think it was in the 70s with no wind (the lack of wind itself is a miracle). I was content to just sun-bathe for hours.
Jake entertained Elise at first by helping her ride her new tricycle. I watched them go round and round, so simple, so happy. Then Elise got distracted and Jake sat down with me. I handed him Sabrina. I have a picture of him holding her on that day. He's so comfortable, so tender.
Last night, we ate the leftover birthday cake at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Big Rev had his camera out, taking pictures of Sabrina standing on her own (her new trick). Then he handed me the camera to show me some old photos. There was Jake again, holding newborn Sabrina at the hospital. Again, so fatherly, so proud, so full of love.
Sometimes I will rage against Jake on this blog. You may forget for a while that I love him. He has offended me so deeply. And yet, deeper than that, I still love him. And I hope Elise and Sabrina find a way to still love him even though he can never play the traditional father role again. Someday, I hope Sabrina will treasure those pictures that captured the few moments when she really had a Daddy.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Heated and Hurt
Last night, the kids and I went to supper with Jake's parents. On the way home, we were talking about my mother's visit next week and Sabrina's first birthday (my baby). Then his mom, Kay, said, "Don't you have that accountant meeting next week?"
She was talking about the meeting with the accountant for Jake's business.
"I'm not going if he can make it."
"I don't think he is allowed to go," said Kay.
I started to whine, "Well, that''s information that I need to know. Why on earth can't he go?"
"[His treatment provider] thinks it's insignificant."
"What?! That makes no sense!" I went on to whine about how I had sent him a letter through his TP with all sorts of requests for information for the business and had yet to here back. I was temporarily peeved at his TP, thinking that she didn't respect my need for the info and was filing it under "insignificant".
The next day I called his TP and asked if he was going to the accountant meeting. I was ready to argue with her, but she had never heard anything about it and was going to ask his probation officer for me. I realized that it was his probation that restricted his travel, not his TP. I mentally apologized to the TP.
Then she told me that Jake had given her a response to my letter, but it was 6.5 pages of emotional junk. She hadn't sent it to me for that reason. I agreed with her that I don't want that right now. He will have a chance to share with me later, but for now I'm just trying to sort out all the practical matters. After I got off the phone, I was thankful that she was helping me to avoid Jake's BS.
Later, Big Rev called me about something he was dropping off. I took the opportunity to set him straight about the TP. I tried to explain how she was helping me. He snapped at me, "I don't care what anyone says to you, you need to be talking directly to Jake!"
Now, I'm not a confrontational person, but I can certainly rise to the occasion. My hackles flew up and I tore into Big Rev about everything Jake had done to me and how I truly need a break from it. Then we got disconnected, or he hung up.
I feel so crappy after that conversation. I realized how important Big Rev and Kay's support is to me. If they can't support me - if they take Jake's side - I can't stay here. I'm hanging by a thread.
She was talking about the meeting with the accountant for Jake's business.
"I'm not going if he can make it."
"I don't think he is allowed to go," said Kay.
I started to whine, "Well, that''s information that I need to know. Why on earth can't he go?"
"[His treatment provider] thinks it's insignificant."
"What?! That makes no sense!" I went on to whine about how I had sent him a letter through his TP with all sorts of requests for information for the business and had yet to here back. I was temporarily peeved at his TP, thinking that she didn't respect my need for the info and was filing it under "insignificant".
The next day I called his TP and asked if he was going to the accountant meeting. I was ready to argue with her, but she had never heard anything about it and was going to ask his probation officer for me. I realized that it was his probation that restricted his travel, not his TP. I mentally apologized to the TP.
Then she told me that Jake had given her a response to my letter, but it was 6.5 pages of emotional junk. She hadn't sent it to me for that reason. I agreed with her that I don't want that right now. He will have a chance to share with me later, but for now I'm just trying to sort out all the practical matters. After I got off the phone, I was thankful that she was helping me to avoid Jake's BS.
Later, Big Rev called me about something he was dropping off. I took the opportunity to set him straight about the TP. I tried to explain how she was helping me. He snapped at me, "I don't care what anyone says to you, you need to be talking directly to Jake!"
Now, I'm not a confrontational person, but I can certainly rise to the occasion. My hackles flew up and I tore into Big Rev about everything Jake had done to me and how I truly need a break from it. Then we got disconnected, or he hung up.
I feel so crappy after that conversation. I realized how important Big Rev and Kay's support is to me. If they can't support me - if they take Jake's side - I can't stay here. I'm hanging by a thread.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Triggers
I've mostly mastered my depression. I pack away the ideas and memories that trigger it, just like I did with Jake's clothes. I set them in a dark corner to be dealt with later, when I am feeling stronger and healthier.
But you can't control every situation.
My pastor asked me how things went in therapy with Big Rev. I am good friends with the pastor and his wife, which is sorta strange because they know that I haven't embraced Jesus as my savior. But they also know I couldn't have survived this last year without a renewed faith in a higher power. I have a spirituality that I don't honestly understand, but it is a lifeline.
So he asked me how things went. I told him it was fine. Big Rev understands more of the situation than I thought he did.
"Good," said Pastor, "because when I spoke with Jake he was still sticking to his lies." I didn't see that coming. I didn't know Pastor ever talked to Jake. Jake had never gone to church, after all. He surprised me and triggered that depression. It especially hurt because he mentioned the lies. I don't know exactly what lies Jake is telling Pastor, but it doesn't really matter. He lies.
It hasn't even been a month since I realized that Jake lies all of the time. I'm not sure if the lies are truly malicious or just part of a deeply seated delusion. Which would be better?
I've had two cups of stress-relief tea today plus five sugar cookies and an episode of Glee. I can't shake the depression.
I bet you can guess what I always find myself saying in these sad moments: "This is not the life I chose." Unfortunately, that doesn't fix anything.
But you can't control every situation.
My pastor asked me how things went in therapy with Big Rev. I am good friends with the pastor and his wife, which is sorta strange because they know that I haven't embraced Jesus as my savior. But they also know I couldn't have survived this last year without a renewed faith in a higher power. I have a spirituality that I don't honestly understand, but it is a lifeline.
So he asked me how things went. I told him it was fine. Big Rev understands more of the situation than I thought he did.
"Good," said Pastor, "because when I spoke with Jake he was still sticking to his lies." I didn't see that coming. I didn't know Pastor ever talked to Jake. Jake had never gone to church, after all. He surprised me and triggered that depression. It especially hurt because he mentioned the lies. I don't know exactly what lies Jake is telling Pastor, but it doesn't really matter. He lies.
It hasn't even been a month since I realized that Jake lies all of the time. I'm not sure if the lies are truly malicious or just part of a deeply seated delusion. Which would be better?
I've had two cups of stress-relief tea today plus five sugar cookies and an episode of Glee. I can't shake the depression.
I bet you can guess what I always find myself saying in these sad moments: "This is not the life I chose." Unfortunately, that doesn't fix anything.
Friday, January 13, 2012
I'm Not Ready
The joint therapy session went well. Big Rev and I clarified a few things, set some communication boundaries, etc.
My biggest concern before going to the therapist was that Big Rev kept trying to "help" Jake and I with our marriage issues (i.e. the issue that he was unfaithful). When he tried to help by explaining or arguing something with me, it was misguided and always left me feeling more wounded. I think he understands now. I don't think it will happen any more.
I had an unexpected realization. I was explaining to Big Rev for the umpteenth time that I didn't want to communicate with Jake at all until he completes his sexual history polygraph when he said, "He's finished it."
I almost fell off my seat. There was a panic rising inside of me. I suddenly realized that I AM NOT READY. I asked, "He's passed the polygraph?"
Then Big Rev explained that Jake has finished the paperwork and they've created the questions for the polygrapher to ask him, but he can't actually take the polygraph until March, at the earliest, due to scheduling problems. I actually breathed a sigh of relief!
I restricted Jake's communication with me right before Christmas because I had just learned about his infidelity. I had spent a year of my life advocating for him in court, believing in my mind that his crime was an isolated incident; that he was essentially a good, trustworthy person. Then I found out that he had spent the majority of our marriage looking for sex from other people. I was suddenly one of his victims. I realized that if I let things keep going the way they were, I would just suffer constantly from truth that was slowly seeping out of him. I needed a break, so I cut ties.
Just a week ago, I sent Jake a letter using my therapist and his TP as the messagers. This was part of the message:
"I am so deeply offended by your infidelity and so worried about your true character that I don't want to talk directly to you right now about anything. I am not doing this to hurt you, but to protect my own sanity and the healthy development of our kids. I will reconsider talking with you if you can pass your sexual history polygraph. Please work hard on it and be honest.
I will expect you to share your sexual history with me in full. I am certain that it will offend and hurt me all over again. You may have to wait even longer for me to process the information and emotions before I will start a talking with you again. But it is very important for me to know the truth.
Please work hard. I will wait for a while, but not forever."
He is doing what I asked by completing his sexual history. He is being proactive and I'm glad. But I'm also glad that he can't complete the polygraph for a while, too. I need more time to process and heal. I'm not ready to start the pain all over again.
Being on my own feels good right now, too. I haven't made decisions without Jake's input for so long. I'm enjoying the independence. I like doing things my way and I think I deserve it. It feels like the fog is clearing in my head and I can stand a little straighter. My life is terribly complicated, and yet everything seem simpler as long as he isn't a factor.
My biggest concern before going to the therapist was that Big Rev kept trying to "help" Jake and I with our marriage issues (i.e. the issue that he was unfaithful). When he tried to help by explaining or arguing something with me, it was misguided and always left me feeling more wounded. I think he understands now. I don't think it will happen any more.
I had an unexpected realization. I was explaining to Big Rev for the umpteenth time that I didn't want to communicate with Jake at all until he completes his sexual history polygraph when he said, "He's finished it."
I almost fell off my seat. There was a panic rising inside of me. I suddenly realized that I AM NOT READY. I asked, "He's passed the polygraph?"
Then Big Rev explained that Jake has finished the paperwork and they've created the questions for the polygrapher to ask him, but he can't actually take the polygraph until March, at the earliest, due to scheduling problems. I actually breathed a sigh of relief!
I restricted Jake's communication with me right before Christmas because I had just learned about his infidelity. I had spent a year of my life advocating for him in court, believing in my mind that his crime was an isolated incident; that he was essentially a good, trustworthy person. Then I found out that he had spent the majority of our marriage looking for sex from other people. I was suddenly one of his victims. I realized that if I let things keep going the way they were, I would just suffer constantly from truth that was slowly seeping out of him. I needed a break, so I cut ties.
Just a week ago, I sent Jake a letter using my therapist and his TP as the messagers. This was part of the message:
"I am so deeply offended by your infidelity and so worried about your true character that I don't want to talk directly to you right now about anything. I am not doing this to hurt you, but to protect my own sanity and the healthy development of our kids. I will reconsider talking with you if you can pass your sexual history polygraph. Please work hard on it and be honest.
I will expect you to share your sexual history with me in full. I am certain that it will offend and hurt me all over again. You may have to wait even longer for me to process the information and emotions before I will start a talking with you again. But it is very important for me to know the truth.
Please work hard. I will wait for a while, but not forever."
He is doing what I asked by completing his sexual history. He is being proactive and I'm glad. But I'm also glad that he can't complete the polygraph for a while, too. I need more time to process and heal. I'm not ready to start the pain all over again.
Being on my own feels good right now, too. I haven't made decisions without Jake's input for so long. I'm enjoying the independence. I like doing things my way and I think I deserve it. It feels like the fog is clearing in my head and I can stand a little straighter. My life is terribly complicated, and yet everything seem simpler as long as he isn't a factor.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Big Rev
My father-in-law is a good man. He is a former reverend, so let's just call him Big Rev.
This whole business with Jake has hurt him so badly. I think he spent the first three months after Jake's arrest just trying not to cry every second of every day. Then he learned that a farm hand had molested almost all of his children, including Jake, and it started the suffering all over again. Big Rev is the one who hired that farm hand. He wishes every day that he could go back and change that.
He paid for Jake to have one of the best lawyers in our state to defend him. I think the lawyer was worth her cost, but I don't know how Big Rev afforded it. He paid for most of my lawyer's costs, too (she helped me handle Social Services who pestered me throughout 2011). He has offered to pay for many other things - sometimes I let him and sometimes I don't.
I feel like he's trying to use money to make up for all of Jake's wrongdoings. I've tried to explain to him that he isn't the one who needs to pay penance and that money will not solve our problems (at least, not the important ones).
He says, "I know, but I just want to help."
It's hard to see a fatherly figure feeling so much pain, so I try to be gentle with him. But lately he's been driving me crazy. Since I've restricted Jake from communicating with me, Big Rev seems to think that he has to advocate for Jake in my presence. I've tried to explain to him where I stand. I try to be firm and yet not take my anger out on Big Rev.
There were two instances in which I snapped at him. First, Big Rev told me that he spent half of a day helping Jake "reseach" (whatever that means) to prove that he didn't sleep with a certain woman while we were married. The insanity of it just blew my mind. First, I know that there have been many women, so why does this particular woman matter. The second thing is that it is completely unhealthy and unfair to be dragging Big Rev into the middle of this. The third thing is that participating in that "research" is just enabling my husband's delusions. I chided Big Rev for encouraging such nonsense.
The second time, Big Rev warned me not to give the authorities certain information. Again - insanity. My reaction started with, "What authority would be asking me for that?" It was stuff that I believe they already know anyhow. Then my reaction moved to, "Why should I be protecting the man who has ruined my life?" It was a bad moment. My temper flared up and I lashed out. Big Rev hung his head shamefully while I gave him such a glare and shook my head. Then I walked out, leaving my poor mother-in-law looking a little pained. Even as I left, I could hear Big Rev saying, "He could go to prison for a long time . . ."
I don't want Jake to go to prison, but I'm determined not to let my moral character get dragged down by this. Truly, if the local police were to ask me for my knowledge on certain topics, I would probably ask to speak to my lawyer first. I don't want to feed the fire. Luckily, I don't think there is a fire to feed. I'll explain more about this another time.
To wrap up this long story, I convinced my father-in-law to come with me to see my therapist. I told him that I want to get us on the same page. And I do. I also want to set some boundaries so that he stops aggravating my open wounds.
My mother asked, "Is your therapist going to act as a mediator?"
I said, "Let's hope we don't need a mediator, but just in case . . ."
This whole business with Jake has hurt him so badly. I think he spent the first three months after Jake's arrest just trying not to cry every second of every day. Then he learned that a farm hand had molested almost all of his children, including Jake, and it started the suffering all over again. Big Rev is the one who hired that farm hand. He wishes every day that he could go back and change that.
He paid for Jake to have one of the best lawyers in our state to defend him. I think the lawyer was worth her cost, but I don't know how Big Rev afforded it. He paid for most of my lawyer's costs, too (she helped me handle Social Services who pestered me throughout 2011). He has offered to pay for many other things - sometimes I let him and sometimes I don't.
I feel like he's trying to use money to make up for all of Jake's wrongdoings. I've tried to explain to him that he isn't the one who needs to pay penance and that money will not solve our problems (at least, not the important ones).
He says, "I know, but I just want to help."
It's hard to see a fatherly figure feeling so much pain, so I try to be gentle with him. But lately he's been driving me crazy. Since I've restricted Jake from communicating with me, Big Rev seems to think that he has to advocate for Jake in my presence. I've tried to explain to him where I stand. I try to be firm and yet not take my anger out on Big Rev.
There were two instances in which I snapped at him. First, Big Rev told me that he spent half of a day helping Jake "reseach" (whatever that means) to prove that he didn't sleep with a certain woman while we were married. The insanity of it just blew my mind. First, I know that there have been many women, so why does this particular woman matter. The second thing is that it is completely unhealthy and unfair to be dragging Big Rev into the middle of this. The third thing is that participating in that "research" is just enabling my husband's delusions. I chided Big Rev for encouraging such nonsense.
The second time, Big Rev warned me not to give the authorities certain information. Again - insanity. My reaction started with, "What authority would be asking me for that?" It was stuff that I believe they already know anyhow. Then my reaction moved to, "Why should I be protecting the man who has ruined my life?" It was a bad moment. My temper flared up and I lashed out. Big Rev hung his head shamefully while I gave him such a glare and shook my head. Then I walked out, leaving my poor mother-in-law looking a little pained. Even as I left, I could hear Big Rev saying, "He could go to prison for a long time . . ."
I don't want Jake to go to prison, but I'm determined not to let my moral character get dragged down by this. Truly, if the local police were to ask me for my knowledge on certain topics, I would probably ask to speak to my lawyer first. I don't want to feed the fire. Luckily, I don't think there is a fire to feed. I'll explain more about this another time.
To wrap up this long story, I convinced my father-in-law to come with me to see my therapist. I told him that I want to get us on the same page. And I do. I also want to set some boundaries so that he stops aggravating my open wounds.
My mother asked, "Is your therapist going to act as a mediator?"
I said, "Let's hope we don't need a mediator, but just in case . . ."
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
The Balance
It is hard for me to reconcile the Jake I love with the one who did all those things. A list of crimes and character flaws is deceptive. There is a good man, a valuable man attached to that man in the mug-shot.
Jake puts on this front in public. He jokes and seems infinitely confidant. But then, in a quiet moment with me, he's emotional, sensitive, full of indecision and doubt. Soft-hearted. It was easy to be emotionally intimate with him. We shared so much of our inner workings with each other that I couldn't imagine he was hiding anything from me.
I had my complaints about him as a spouse, but very normal ones. He forgot important dates and gave tasteless gifts, like a typical man does. But then he'd do subtle things in our everyday life that made me thankful I had someone who knew me so well. He'd record a show I liked, or email me a news story he knew I'd be interested in, or cook something I liked even though he didn't like it.
He knew my talents and encouraged me in them. He was proud of me and would brag about me because he knew I never would.
He gave me the opportunity to stay home with my daughters - possibly the most valuable experience of my life to date.
He wasn't a bad father. He loves both his girls very much. He just wasn't always there when you needed him. Even when he was there, his mind was elsewhere.
Life was getting confusing in the year before he was arrested. He had a lot on his plate, so it seemed to make sense that he was stressed out and distant. He did a lot of traveling. He confessed to me once that he went to a massage parlor (the kind with happy endings). I forgave him, it didn't seem that serious. It became a kind of joke. But then he told me about another one and then a trip to a bath house. I was dazed and unsure what was happening. I tried to talk to him about how this affected our marriage, but he seemed to just not get what I was saying. I kept thinking that things would improve after we had the baby, after he settled into his new job, after we payed down some of our debt . . . Then we wouldn't be so stressed. Then we'd have the time to figure our marriage out.
We never made it there. And now I see that we never would have. He was a sex addict. I just couldn't see it at the time. Some days I'm thankful he was arrested because I was just seeing the tip of the iceberg. I'm glad things didn't spin more out of control.
And some days I wish I could go back and fix things so we wouldn't be here. What would I have done? Would I have gotten mad at him about the massage parlor? Would I have made him get counseling? Would I have refused to marry him and miss having our precious children? That wouldn't really stop the problem. I would have to go back further. I would have to go all the way back to when Jake was three-years-old and stop the man who raped him. That's where all this started. But then I'd need to stop whoever victimized that man as a child and back and back and back. There is no end to it.
But I hope you have seen the other side of the coin.
Jake puts on this front in public. He jokes and seems infinitely confidant. But then, in a quiet moment with me, he's emotional, sensitive, full of indecision and doubt. Soft-hearted. It was easy to be emotionally intimate with him. We shared so much of our inner workings with each other that I couldn't imagine he was hiding anything from me.
I had my complaints about him as a spouse, but very normal ones. He forgot important dates and gave tasteless gifts, like a typical man does. But then he'd do subtle things in our everyday life that made me thankful I had someone who knew me so well. He'd record a show I liked, or email me a news story he knew I'd be interested in, or cook something I liked even though he didn't like it.
He knew my talents and encouraged me in them. He was proud of me and would brag about me because he knew I never would.
He gave me the opportunity to stay home with my daughters - possibly the most valuable experience of my life to date.
He wasn't a bad father. He loves both his girls very much. He just wasn't always there when you needed him. Even when he was there, his mind was elsewhere.
Life was getting confusing in the year before he was arrested. He had a lot on his plate, so it seemed to make sense that he was stressed out and distant. He did a lot of traveling. He confessed to me once that he went to a massage parlor (the kind with happy endings). I forgave him, it didn't seem that serious. It became a kind of joke. But then he told me about another one and then a trip to a bath house. I was dazed and unsure what was happening. I tried to talk to him about how this affected our marriage, but he seemed to just not get what I was saying. I kept thinking that things would improve after we had the baby, after he settled into his new job, after we payed down some of our debt . . . Then we wouldn't be so stressed. Then we'd have the time to figure our marriage out.
We never made it there. And now I see that we never would have. He was a sex addict. I just couldn't see it at the time. Some days I'm thankful he was arrested because I was just seeing the tip of the iceberg. I'm glad things didn't spin more out of control.
And some days I wish I could go back and fix things so we wouldn't be here. What would I have done? Would I have gotten mad at him about the massage parlor? Would I have made him get counseling? Would I have refused to marry him and miss having our precious children? That wouldn't really stop the problem. I would have to go back further. I would have to go all the way back to when Jake was three-years-old and stop the man who raped him. That's where all this started. But then I'd need to stop whoever victimized that man as a child and back and back and back. There is no end to it.
But I hope you have seen the other side of the coin.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
All About Him
The following things I have learned directly from my husband, Jake, through my experiences as his wife, through my own personal research (i.e. snooping), or in open court. I will not put anything here that has been told to me by Jake's treatment provider or lawyer.
And I now feel like I am selling him out to a world of strangers who will condemn him all over again. That is not my agenda, so tomorrow I will give you a balancing perspective from the part of me that loves him, that sees value in his character, that still has a lingering hope that he can reform.
- He is a sex addict. His main addiction is porn.
- He has visited prostitutes, massage parlors, and bath houses during our marriage.
- He used online social networks to seek out affairs and had sex online with at least two women during our marriage, but likely more than that
- He had an inappropriate relationship with a student before we were married, but I don't know the nature of it or what lines were crossed. No charges have been brought on this, but the authorities know and, since Colorado has no statute of limitations on sex crimes, he will have that hanging over his head forever.
- The act that caused him to be arrested was the inappropriate touching of a student's breast and torso on the outside of her clothing. This followed a month-long flirtation between the two of them.
- After being arrested, a search of his computers uncovered child pornography.
And I now feel like I am selling him out to a world of strangers who will condemn him all over again. That is not my agenda, so tomorrow I will give you a balancing perspective from the part of me that loves him, that sees value in his character, that still has a lingering hope that he can reform.
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