Beautiful Innocence

Last night, as my kids and I were settling down in bed, we got to talking about families. My little one, Sabrina, said that families have mommies and daddies. I agreed that a lot of families have both mommies and daddies. Sometimes, there is just a mommy or just a daddy, like our family.

Elise, my 5-year-old, said, "I miss Daddy."

I nodded, "I know." She takes every opportunity to express this thought. It used to break my heart, but now it's fallen in the same category of "our dog died." Daddy and the dog are both things she brings up knowing that it will get an interesting emotional reaction from adults. My theory is that she's exploring that reaction. I'm not being callous, it's just the way it is with children.

My normal approach to any daddy conversation is just acceptance of whatever she feels and trying to answer her questions without getting too nitty gritty and without revealing my deep hatred for the man. I just don't think she's old enough to understand.

However, this time I decided to introduce a new dimension to the conversation. I said, "It's okay for you to miss Daddy. But you know what? I don't miss Daddy. And that's okay, too. We both have different feelings and that's okay."

I thought this would bring a torrent of questions from my verbal child, but instead it stumped her. She didn't seem distressed or upset, just quiet in deep thought. We will see what surfaces in a few days or weeks. It is amazing how things will seemingly be forgotten only to pop up at the weirdest times. With my luck, she will announce it during the children's message at church. After all, that's where she usually brings up our deceased dog.

It's funny how this conversation has been percolating in the back of my mind in the last day. I find myself wondering when I stopped missing him. Even when I moved here, I still missed the man I married. I hated him and missed him at the same time, you know? When I found myself missing him, I hated him even more. I still have those moments I suppose, but they are so very rare. I feel very content with him NOT BEING HERE.

For instance, tonight I watched Sabrina running around after using the potty (she just recently gave up diapers) with only a shirt on. Every time I told her to put on her panties, she would just squeal with giggles and run away. I was finishing my supper and didn't feel like chasing her yet, so I told her to go pull out that new package of panties we bought her. Predictably, she tore the package open so they flew all over the floor. Elise joined the chaos as they jokingly put the panties on their heads, on their toy dragon, on a pumpkin (yes, it's still sitting around from halloween) - everywhere accept on Sabrina. Finally, somehow, a pair went on her, but only after ten solid minutes of silly, innocent shrieking and giggling.

And I deeply enjoyed the whole scene because it was funny and cute . . . but mostly because it could happen safely. Without Jake, my children can run around naked in their own home and no one will look at them as potential sex partners. No one will see it as an opportunity to cop a feel or turn it into a sex game. Without Jake, they get to be safely innocent. That is enough reason to not miss him. Don't you think?

By the way, Sabrina is about to turn 3. She was born just three weeks before Jake was arrested. She doesn't know him, doesn't remember him, doesn't miss him. 

I don't like men or sex = FALSE

I'm rather vocal about my opinions on appropriate sexual behavior, especially regarding behavior between adults and children (I wonder where that came from). I'm also pretty vocal on issues of gender stereotypes and rape culture, which I believe are all closely related and deeply rooted flaws of our society concerning sexuality.

I feel like people who don't know me very well and who hear my opinions on sexual/gender matters tend to make two faulty assumptions about me:

 #1  I don't like men.

I mentioned in my last post that I don't easily trust men. That could confuse people into thinking that I don't like men. I actually think that men and women are not very different. I think we are made of the same stuff and have very similar potential for character. I also think that from an early age we are bombarded with messages that we are different. I think most of us get brainwashed before we hit puberty by all of the gender stereotypes and sexual messages. I like men, but I don't like what media and society tells them to be. And I really hate when men believe those messages, which most do.

I wish boys growing up could receive more positive messages about their emotions and ability to nurture. The good men out there are often described as being "in touch with their feminine sides", but instead, I believe, they are just awake to their own natural abilities to be a decent human despite the lies they were told growing up. This is why I protest gender stereotypes and balk every time someone says, "You think that way because you're a woman!" Or "Only a man could understand." My eyes roll every time I hear this crap - and they roll A LOT. 

#2 I don't like sex

This past week, a man in the writing group I've been attending (I will be quitting after this) concocted a story in which a 42-year-old man developed a romantic relationship with a 17-year-old girl. His story line was full of deception and twisted logic. It disturbed me greatly, but when I spoke up about my issues with it he declared me puritanical and implied that I'm lacking in sexuality. I just nodded. I've heard that before said by different people in different ways. Inside my head, I was thinking that I've probably had a more interesting and healthy sex life than him - sadly including my long relationship with a sex addict and sex offender, which definitely has marred my sexuality, but I still think I'm healthier than this guy!

My real problem with sex right now is that I'm not getting any because it is really hard to date as a single mom. My options kinda suck at the moment, but don't let me digress . . . I have one more story on this topic.

A male friend of mine recently went into a rant about how he can't get laid. I laughed because it was awkward, but I was totally sympathetic! I'm lonely! I'm sexually frustrated! But I don't say it out loud. Just because I don't talk to everyone about how much I like sex doesn't mean that I don't like it.

I've thought a lot about that conversation since then. I think society taught my friend as a male that it was okay to talk about his sexuality. It's okay for him to be overtly sexual. But as a woman, I was taught to hide it. I completely sympathized with him, but I couldn't tell him that. This is sad for both of us. It makes both genders lonely and divided. I can see why men say that women are confusing. He internalized it as a problem with himself, but so many men might as easily turn it around as a problem with women. Men find women confusing and women find men brutish. Maybe if we stopped promoting the differences between the sexes, maybe if we paid more attention to our similarities and tried to use a little sympathy, (maybe if men weren't brainwashed into thinking they need to take sex from others) maybe then we wouldn't have so many problems. 

Another thing, I keep the details of my previous marriage pretty quiet because I don't want to be judged by it. I don't like when people say, "You feel strongly about this because of what you went through." That's a load of BS. I've been awakened to the issues of society because of what I went through. Everyone should care about protecting children from sexual exploitation.

You shouldn't have to be a certain gender to appreciate healthy sexual activity or to recognize unhealthy sexual behavior. There are real reasons for why there are more male sex offenders than female, but I think only a small part of that is due to natural differences of the genders. I think society has produced most of the monsters I fear. I think the best way to fight it is to talk about it . . . although there are days when I'm sure that I'd get more dates if I'd shut up. But I don't really want a man who is scared away by a woman who is willing to stand up for what is right. Right?

Trust - what's that? (ideas on child safety and romance)

Could there be a more complicated thing than trust? I find love much easier. I can love many more people than I can trust. I can love people without fully trusting them. I can forgive many trespassers in my life, but it is likely I will never trust them again. To me, that's just logical.

But you have to give some trust to some people, especially when you have kids. The hardest person to trust is the one you don't know. But then, the most dangerous person is likely the one you think you really know - the one who you already trust. Anyone who has a close connection to a sex offender has experienced this phenomenon.

It is natural for us to have trust issues. All my trust issues are centered around my children. I can get very paranoid about the people I leave them with or allow them to have contact with. I'm not just worried about sexual abuse, I'm worried about any caregiver in any way not cultivating a healthy environment for my kids, whether it may be physically, emotionally, or socially. I have spent many hours in the middle of the night fretting and crying over these things. Here's the thing, though, I don't think I'm wrong in worrying about these things. I don't think I'm crazy, even though I feel crazy sometimes. What I do think is that we live in a society of people wearing rose-colored glasses, giving trust away undeserved, because, well, it's easier that way. I think I know better than most people that I SHOULD worry about how our flawed society is affecting our children, especially in sexual ways.

Let me back up, though, to shortly after Jake was first arrested. My emotions were torn apart and my sensibilities about the world were confused. Everything I had known seemed false and my whole self felt like a raw wound. Everyone I looked at, from family to social worker, I considered as a possible sexual predator. How could I know? Momentarily, I even had doubts about my own family. I reassured myself many times that if my parents and my brother didn't sexually abuse me as a child - and they didn't - then I didn't need to worry. But the sad truth is that sex offenders might pick one child and not another, one generation and not another. You never know. Not knowing had me paralyzed as a parent for a long time. I didn't feel like there was anyone other than myself that I could trust with my kids. I was a prisoner of distrust.

A strange thing started me on the road out of that funk. I was asked by my social worker, Umbridge, to go to her office and watch an educational video. Grooooaan. She tried to make if more comfortable for me by inviting a bunch of her coworkers to watch it as a training exercise. That actually made it worse because they all treated me like the leper of the group. The video, however, was very helpful. It was called Darkness to Light and discussed steps to prevent sexual abuse. It was good to learn the statistics on child sexual abuse and it was good to be given some guidelines for prevention. There was something more though, something about it that gave me a sense of empowerment. It planted ideas that worked on me slowly. How it changed me was so subtle, that it's hard to describe. I started putting a context and structure to my fears, which was important because then I could decide what was within the realm of my control. Guess what? A lot of things are in my control as a parent. Those are my kids, damn it. Mine. I get to say who takes care of them. I get to pick the conditions. If I don't like it, then I get to point that out and ask for a change. If that caregiver can't change, then I get to pick another caregiver. That video helped me realize that I had been giving so much of my parenting control away because I thought that was how things worked - you know, like saying okay to a dentist that won't let parents into the exam room because the parents' anxiety might upset the kid - but I woke up to the knowledge that I can keep my parenting control. It's mine, after all. And I can be vocal about it without being rude or obnoxious. I won't lie, it has led me into a few uncomfortable moments I wished I could have avoided, but better my discomfort than my kids being led into abuse, right? Mostly though, I am respected for being an advocate of my children's safety. I get positive responses when I make my expectations clear. A good childcare provider who has had the right training will be happy to show that they know how to create a safe environment and cultivate healthy attitudes.

Of course, a sexual predator will hide behind the same things that we trust and give us false reassurance. I believe in choosing environments that have open layouts and multiple adults to minimize the chances of anything being hidden. I also believe in surprise visits. You should always be able to drop-in on the place where your child is being kept - I don't care if it is grandma's house, your best friend's house, or the babysitter's. But really, the most powerful thing is communication with your child. You have to wait until your child is three-years-old or more before you can ask them about their day, but it is such a great tool once you get there.

Even then, talking to your child can be tricky. Establishing the conversation early helps. My 4-year-old, Elise, and I talk every couple weeks about body parts, privacy versus secrets, respect, and anything else I can think of that will introduce safe ways to navigate life. It's valuable. Today Elise told me that some boys at preschool were talking about "private things". My stomach turned, but at least I knew she would be able to answer my next questions: What private things? Were they talking about private body parts? Were they keeping secrets? Her answers were clear: Pee and poop, no body parts, and no secrets. Whew. It sounds simple, but if I hadn't given her the knowledge of body parts or privacy how could she answer? If I hadn't explained that some secrets can be dangerous then she might not tell me if someone asks her to keep one. I don't know if this works with every kid, but I feel pretty confidant that it works with her. Hopefully the conversations can grow with her so she'll always feel safe to come to me. Trust between myself and my kids is probably the trust I care about most.

My anonymous commenter who turned me onto the subject of trust was probably thinking more about men - the ones we might be romantically interested in. Alas, I have no words of wisdom, only empathy. I find it extraordinarily more difficult to trust  men than women. I feel this is unfair and discriminatory of me, and yet, it is how I am now. I could not leave my kids at a daddy daycare or let a man babysit, other than my father or brother. When we were still dating, my ex-boyfriend asked me why I acted weird whenever he volunteered to babysit. I explained to him that after each time I leave my kids with someone I ask my kids questions to make sure nothing inappropriate happened and I didn't want to have to do that with him. It really upset him. He thought I was doubting his character without reason. I wouldn't say I was doubting it, but I was playing it safe for the sake of my kids. And isn't that my job? I can trust a man again with my heart, but I'm not sure I can trust one with my kids. Maybe in the future we should all discuss methods of dating for single parents because right now I feel like the safest method is to wait until both kids are 18!

By the way, anonymous, I would love to read more about your story and thoughts. I would love to read anyone's stories about their relationships and dealings with sex offenders, even if they feel and act differently from myself. I think we need a community. I think we need to learn from each other and have each others' support. The more vocal we are, the better recovery will be. And if someone outside of our situation reads it, the better they will sympathize. We also have an opportunity to make our society a safer place for kids through our unique perspective. But first we have to start talking out loud. I hope to hear more from you. 

P.S. I was working on this while my girls were in the tub. I was just about to hit publish when Elise dropped the bar of soap and it slipped between Sabrina's legs. Elise reached to get it and it made Sabrina giggle. Elise didn't find the soap, but she reached between Sabrina's legs again to make her giggle again. I had to pull her out of the tub and have a talk - again - about private body parts and respecting other people's bodies (even when they giggle). Obviously, it is an ongoing conversation. Sigh!

The Hidden Blessings

So the guy I've been dating for three months just broke up with me on Sunday. Basically, he thought I was going to break up with him so he decided to preemptively strike out at me by picking on the things I'm most concerned and self-conscious about. He hurt me, he really did. Ironically, I wasn't planning on dumping him, that was just his mistake. Of course, after he made me feel like crap on the bottom of his shoe, I wasn't going to correct his bad assumption. I went right along with his script and I'm quickly recovering.

However, there is a weird sadness that lingers from all of this because he seemed like such a good guy right up until the break up. We had some disagreements before this stuff, but nothing that wasn't livable. He was great with the kids - really freaking great. I find myself sighing over how near-perfect he was . . . and then I remind myself how thankful I should be that he revealed his true colors before we got any more serious. There is a big blessing in finding out who someone really is. I am so glad that my ex-boyfriend volunteered this little scene to expand my awareness of his character.

This brings me to the hidden blessings of Jake's arrest and all the drama I endured because of it. It is a blessing that his true character was revealed. It is a blessing that someone reported him to the police. It is a blessing that I didn't have to figure these things out on my own and make the decision to turn him in. It is a blessing that I didn't get an STD from his extra-marital affairs. It is a blessing that my kids were not abused. In so many ways, I am relieved that everything happened when and how it did.

It is a tough road to find out that your spouse is a sex offender. It breaks your heart and tears up your family. But there is a second chance that is born out of it. The biggest blessing is being given choices. I had several wise people encourage me to start making decisions based on what is best for me and my children. It took a long time for me to grow into that idea, but it has served me well. My life is incredibly flawed right now, but I feel so free compared to the situation I left. I wouldn't go back for all the money in the world. And I won't settle for a flawed relationship, even with a near-perfect man. I like having my choices and I like having a second chance. I hope that every spouse of a sex offender finds this personal freedom. You don't have to choose to leave your spouse - just make sure your choice is really best for you and not just a guilt reflex from that "till death do us part" line. I'm guessing that vow was already broken by the sex offender and it isn't your job to fix it.

After Divorce

Ah, anonymous commenters, you bring me back every time. The latest comment reminded me of how long it has been since I posted - three months! And so much has happened.

WARNING - BITTERNESS BELOW

My divorce from Jake was finalized in April. It was such a strange process. We worked though our lawyers to come up with a separation agreement. It was incredibly awkward since he is in prison and has very limited ability to talk to his lawyer. He wouldn't agree to let me change the kids' names to my maiden name - no surprise there. He also wanted me to pay off one of his debts as part of the divorce. This sent me through the roof with anger. I recently had to file bankruptcy because I couldn't afford childcare, let alone credit card payments left over from my destructive marriage. I feel like my unfortunate financial circumstances all lead back to him. I don't want to be childish, but in all fairness, HE owes ME money and great apologies. Instead, my lawyer talked me into appeasing him by promising that if he is ever taken to court and forced to pay off the credit card then I will forgive him from having to pay a portion of child support. This is all quite laughable - and I laughed like an insane person gone manic when my lawyer came up with it because: A) the state of Colorado doesn't believe that incarcerated persons should have to pay child support, B) the debt is so small that it is unlikely any credit card company will care enough to take him to court, and C) even after he is out he will never pay me child support as long as he lives because he has a knack for wiggling out of all responsibilities. Basically, I got nothing out of the divorce except my freedom from him and a huge lawyer bill.

At least I have a few years before he can get visitation with the kids. I fear the time when he will have access to them. How will he con them? Will it be for sex or money? God help me that I have to lay awake at night worrying about these things. Well, before he can see them he has to be out of prison and through a certain amount of sex offender treatment. Any visitation will be supervised. There is a little comfort in that, I suppose.

I thought I had six years to prepare for the time when the kids would be exposed to him again. Six years was what I believed his earliest release date would be with good behavior. However, when I looked Jake up in the prison system, they have his first parole hearing listed just three years from now. My heart sank when I saw that. Just three years. Do I dare hope that they routinely deny parole for a few years? I am terrified for my kids. They don't deserve to have such a father. They really don't deserve to have him reintroduced to their lives while they're too young to understand his manipulative ways. How can I protect them?

Well, I am thankful that the divorce is final. I have a second chance to choose a better life for myself and the kids. It's been hard. We're poor. But we're often happy despite everything else. In terms of the future, I'll just have to hope for the best.

My Friend

Last time I blogged – you know, right after I googled the name of a new friend only to find out that he had recently gotten out of prison for killing a cyclist while driving drunk - I was freaking out a little. Let me update you about that freak out and about my friend, the ex-con.

I shouldn’t call him an ex-con. It’s accurate, but I think he deserves something kinder, something that reflects the fact that he paid the debt that society asked him to pay and he is rebuilding his life . . . As you can see, I’ve decided not to condemn him in my personal sphere.

Sure, I freaked out about his past. It hurt me that someone I already had accepted as a friend had such a dark history. It angered me that he had so recklessly taken the life of another person. And it scared me that he was likely an alcoholic because it brings this question to my mind: Do I gravitate toward addicts, like my husband? It seems that some women are drawn into abusive relationships over and over. Am I drawn to charming, manipulative, selfish men? It is a scary, scary thought that will keep me out of the dating realm for a long time . . . but I digress. [Note, this man was never a romantic interest to me]

It took me a few weeks to really process this new discovery a la google. I avoided him in the meantime. I let the news stories I had read online percolate in my head. His mug shot. The angry and mournful comments from the community that stretched out below each article. I was angry right along with them. But there was one comment that softened my thoughts:

I knew this man 20 years ago … what a terrible shock. . . . As a cyclist, I share the outrage of the community and am confused by his lenient sentence. As the old friend of a talented, but self-destructive artist, I can’t help but be saddened by all the wasted potential that this event represents – a tragedy in the true sense. My thoughts and prayers are with the victim’s friends and family – though I’ll save a few for my old friend, too.

I was relieved to see that someone else - someone who knew him once - believed in his value, even if he had disappointed them. It gave me leeway to start believing my own intuition about him. I went about my life without making an attempt to think about him, but in the background I knew my brain was merging the man I had befriended with the cold facts I had learned.

Something else was happening in my brain. More and more each day, I admitted to myself that I was having a problem separating my new friendship from the lingering pain created by my husband. These two men are very different. My husband has not yet served his time or done anything to repay society. I pray he will reach that point someday. I pray that he will exit the correctional system and find a place in the community where he can be useful, accepted, and even find healthy friendships and loving relationships – not from me, mind you, but I do want that for him. So if I want that for the man who has created such damage in my life . . . then I think it is okay to help someone else accomplish those same goals. Or, at the very least, not hinder him.

I finally  made two big decisions. First, I decided that I didn’t want to be the kind of person that couldn’t forgive, especially when the offense didn’t involve me. From the legal perspective, my friend had done his time and even been released early for good behavior. Second, I decided that I would never haunt a friend of mine with their past. I won’t confront him about it or question his personal penance. After all, I don’t want my own past haunting me.

The decision I hadn’t made was whether or not I was going to continue a friendship with him. It was easy to avoid him, so I gave myself permission to take as long as I wanted with it.

One morning I was sitting at Starbucks, typing away at my email. At a table very close to me sat two women. They were trendy, polished ladies, each staring at their smart phones even while they talked to each other. I was trying to tune their voices out while I worked, but little bits would slip through. One of them was talking about a high school friend that she had reconnected with over facebook. I tuned her out for a moment until she said, “He’s been in prison for the last fifteen years!” That’s when I very actively started listening. She sounded offended at his past, of which all she seemed to know about was his incarceration, but not the reason for it.

Her friend sympathetically replied, “You unfriended him, right?”

“Oh yeah,” she said.

That burned me to the core. Neither of them had stopped to contemplate what his crime was or whether he had changed his ways. Neither of them thought about what he was trying to do with his life now or what kind of grace they could offer him. I felt so strongly offended by their quick condemnation that I almost told them what cold bitches I thought they were. Instead, I packed up my stuff and paid my friend a visit. e’sHhhHhhh

That visit was a delight. In his office, where we were chatting, I suddenly was very aware of all the clips of articles, poetry, and handwritten notes he had pinned to his wall. They had to do with faith, resilience, following one’s passion, being optimistic, and seeking peace. He’s in the business of helping people, so I had always thought those clippings were there to motivate others, but now I hope it reflects his own journey, as well. He was happy to see me and I was happy to see him. We talked away for an hour. It was nice. I was sure then that I can be his friend.

One last thing . . .

Yesterday, I was at Walmart in the auto garage to get a tire fixed and my overdue oil change done. The rough-looking men who work there usually make me feel like I need to keep a wide birth. When I act that way, they respond in kind. This time, though, I felt like I should treat each of them like a member of my family - dad, son, brother. We chatted and joked and laughed. As I left, the men all gave me a cheerful goodbye, just like I was a friend who always visits. I can’t help but feel like this new ability to befriend unknown - and somewhat threatening looking - people stemmed from the whole dilemma above. I think maybe all the crap I’ve gone through and all the damage I’ve suffered might actually make me a better person! Go figure.

New Year, New Ways

I am one of those people who likes new year's resolutions. I made some great ones last year. I didn't achieve all of them, but I worked on each a bit, which makes me proud. This year, I decided to renew a few of last year's resolutions - do more yoga and learn spanish - plus, I've been forming some rather unique new ones. One of the most important is that I won't beat myself up for being a good person. It sounds silly, I know, but my last post was full of detest for my "good" self, so I felt that I had to decide whether I would hate myself, change myself, or accept myself. I decided that being a good person was not something that I should be fighting. The real problem is that I need to be smarter and safer.

That leads to the second resolution: I will google people more. You might be laughing, but as I'm building a new life for myself I am letting new people into it, rapidly. If I have a tool in my hand that will give me some background about those that I am befriending then I should use it! This is a big deal to me because I am also a polite person and "googling" someone feels impolite. It even feels a little sneaky. It feels so strange, in fact, that it took me the first 20 days into the new year before I decided to do it.

Drumroll for my first google project . . . I made a new friend, a man quite a bit older than myself. I enjoy his company. He seems smart and kind. He flatters me to a ridiculous extent, which made me question whether he is flirting with me. I feel a mix of pleasure and discomfort in his presence. It bothered me to the point that he became my first google project. I sighed as I pulled up an old news article from the google list with his mug shot on it. Several years ago he killed a cyclist while drunk driving. The article pointed out that it was not his first incident of drunk driving. He went to prison for several years.

Lord almighty, a felon and possible alcoholic. Just my luck.

This brings me to my third resolution: don't hide significant things from the people who matter. Like anyone else, I have a tendency to glaze over information that I believe my family and friends will criticize. It might be a natural and normal habit, but I've decided it is immature and sometimes harmful. The people who have proven their love for me in the last few years are exactly the people I should be sharing the story of my life with and trusting them to help me form a healthier, safer existence.

My google project is a good example because, even as I read the article, I knew that I would probably still give him a chance at friendship. My instinct was to not mention any of this to my mother, who I feared would judge me as a fool for being kind to a convict. However, I was true to my resolution and told her about the story. I shared it in a black humor tone, starting with "Do you want to hear something awful?" After the story, she just looked sad and shook her head, but didn't say anything harsh. I figure I'll give her a day to soak it in and then ask her what she thinks about it tomorrow.

And if my mother suggests that I stay away from the convicted drunk driving murderer? Well, that makes sense. I'll be glad that my mother wants me safe. And I might even listen to her . . . But he did serve his time and has been "rehabilitated". He is probably sober. He might be terribly repentent and needs the world to give him a chance . . . Or he is a manipulative addict looking for a good person to be his patsy.

Well, this debate could go on a while, so I'm going to set it on the shelf for a week or so . . . In the meantime, I will just be satisfied that I am keeping to my new resolutions.

Oh yeah, Jake was sentenced to 8 years in prison for combined counts of sexual assault and attempted sexual assault on a minor by a person in a position of trust. This news is still soaking into my head and heart. I'm not exactly disappointed or upset by it. I figure I can take my time in forming my opinion and reaction on this news.

Is change possible?

Dear Anonymous who wrote the following:

"I don't want to be deceived and betrayed again. But is change possible for some? And even if it is, how does this color the rest of our lives? Will it ever be truly behind us?"

Change is possible. I'm not sure if you're wondering about change for yourself or for the sex offender in your life, but the answer is yes either way.

For a one-time offender, the chances of them re-offending is very low (that's with legal intervention, court-ordered therapy, and terribly restrictive probation).

For someone more damaged, like a sex addict, like my husband, I'm not sure what the chances of change are. I thought that being arrested and losing everything he's worked for would push Jake to change, but he continued to lie about his crimes and affairs. Through his demeanor, Jake has made it clear that he doesn't care how much he has damaged the lives of his victims, let alone his family. I'm not sure he will change. I believe it will take decades, if at all.

Don't let Jake bring you down because we've all heard come-back stories of alcoholics and other addicts. Sex addicts can choose to change. They can take control of their lives and their addictions. They can learn appropriate behavior, empathy, and other needed qualities for healthy sexual choices. There is always hope.

I think the more important question is whether you are going to change. I'm not suggesting a drastic change, like leaving . . . unless you want to, of course. I'm suggesting a change in how you perceive yourself and how you make your choices. Since my personal nightmare began, so many people who care about me repeated the same wish: that I start making choices based on what is best for me and the children. He has made selfish choices that have hurt and broken the family, so it is fair to set his desires as less priority than those of the other family members. If he is really interested in changing, then he will accept - perhaps even embrace - this new decision making process. Once I started operating in this manner I could see that Jake was not on board. He was not willing to accept the needs of his wife and children as priorities over himself. It was incredibly telling . . .

So ponder this: Are you making choices with your own best interest in mind? Or are you ignoring what you need because it will hurt the sex offender in your life? When you love someone and have practiced for many years to make mutually beneficial choices, it is hard to make this change. I suggest reading something healing and inspiring. I read Eat, Pray, Love.

I also wrote a lot of letters to my daughters. It helped me to imagine how I will explain this all to them some day. If I felt like I was making excuses and apologizing, then I knew I needed to review our circumstances again. My letters to them are much happier and less apologetic now. If you don't have children, write yourself a letter to open in 10-years. Will it be an empowering letter? Loving letter? Apologizing letter?

I think it impossible to avoid being deceived again by someone, somewhere. But now that you know there is a liar in your life, you are much less likely to be deceived by him again. About the time I realized that Jake had been truly unfaithful, I finally decided that he no longer would receive the respect for privacy and trust that I give all other loved ones in my life. This is actually an important decision for a person who is sharing part of their life with an addict. Addicts NEED other people to call their bluff and check their story. Again, if he doesn't like it then he isn't ready to change . . . probably because he is still hiding something.

Yes, this will color the rest of your life. I think about this daily. I hope that it will color me more sensible and careful with relationships and money. I hope that it has sharpened my ability to protect my children. It has injured my trust - and even my interest - in the opposite sex, but that will likely fade.

We'll heal, if we're making good choices for ourselves. I think I'm getting a lot better about that and I hope you are, too.

Feeling Spry (in an unwelcome way)

What is it I'm supposed to be doing right now? Oh yeah, pay the bills, that's right. Well, too bad, I feel like blogging. I have blog-fasted all week. I feel so starved that I don't know if I can even do it anymore, but I'm willing to try!

So the job is going well and I'm starting to get the household back in working order. The kitchen is getting cleaned every night and we're all putting on clean clothes every morning, so I haven't fallen apart completely, right? In fact, I have moments when I feel quite alive and vibrant (in between the moments when I feel like a dismal wreck). I'm trying to convince myself that those moments are the reality that I'm moving toward.

I've mentioned before that somewhere in my brain lurks thoughts of moving on in a romantic sense. Well, those thoughts have moved from my dreamscape to the forefront of my mind. I was embarrassed to mention this before, but I've been having moments of antsy feelings - the kind of pleasurable discomfort that normally leads to a person spending some romantic alone time with their significant other. Only, I don't have a significant other, do I? I mean, technically I do, since I'm still married, but it hurts to think about anything intimate with Jake because it opens the wound. So where does that leave me? I just tried to ignore the feelings for weeks.

Then I started this job. I'm surrounded by lots of people - a situation I'm unused to because I've been a stay-at-home mom for three years. It was heaven at first. I realized how lonely I had been. I'm working with a lot of women that I immediately targeted as potential friends. Being around people again was like drinking water after a long run on a windy day. I smiled A LOT for the first week.

But then the weirdest thing happened. I walked past a man at work and felt uncomfortable. It just barely registered at first. The next time I saw him I felt so uncomfortable that I could barely smile and nod, which I do easily to everyone else. I started mentally reviewing these feelings. It wasn't the creepy feelings I sometimes get from people. It wasn't that he had done anything out of the ordinary to make me feel weird. It could only be one thing - and I was really scared to admit it to myself - I was attracted to him! OH MY GOD, WHY? I had never even talked to this man and know nothing about him. There is absolutely no reason for me to feel like this.

It has been years since I've been attracted to anyone other than Jake. As a teenager I was constantly distracted by the opposite sex to the point that I even prayed for a while that God would take away my sex drive and let me be normal! Somehow I managed to not get into too many dead-end sexual relationships, but the few I had were enough to leave me shamed. I was glad when my sex drive finally diminished with marriage and motherhood. I was especially glad about it last year, since I felt like sex was the root of all our problems. Several times I have wished that sex would not so easily control people, the way it seemed to control Jake. I still wish it.

So why do I find myself suddenly as randy as a teenager? It's not because of loneliness. I've been feeling lonely for over a year. It must be the sudden contact with people. Yes?

And why this particular man? I have no idea. Unlike a lot of people, I don't seem to have a type. It's always just been chemistry with me. My personal theory is that I'm particularly receptive to some special brand of pheromones (the ones that belong to losers, as far as my past demonstrates). There are many men I pass in the halls at work. Several of them are around my age and good looking. I have no problem looking them all in the eye and holding a full conversation, except for this one man. His presence turns me into a blushing school girl who can't even squeak out "Hello."

At first, I was mad at myself for being so childish. I was determined to act normal around him. I was going to get over this hormonal BS and be mature. I held a few little conversations with him along the lines of  "Hi, how are you doing? What are you having for lunch?" I gave myself some mental pats on the back . . . Until I realized that acting normal around him did not make me any less attracted to him. In fact, it made it worse. I caught myself a few times having romantic daydreams about the man I know nothing about (except what he ate for lunch)!

Now I've changed tactics. I'm ignoring him. I'm going to pretend he doesn't exist. I've already gone out of my way to avoid places I know he'll be at work. Childish, I know, but it involves much less guilt!

After all, I'm a married woman - aren't I? In case you're wondering, all this new hormonal stuff has not taken away my love for Jake or my sense of commitment to him . . . It's just become more confusing. Oh lord, that's a whole other conversation that I'm suddenly too tired to have.

Well, expect to hear from me sooner than later because Jake has a hearing this Tuesday. It is very likely that nothing will happen. We spent the better part of last year waiting for hearings that never gave us answers to our questions. I've given up expecting any progress to happen in a courtroom . . . but maybe, just maybe something will happen this time.

Weekend Blogger

As the title suggests, I think I will now become a weekend blogger. Working a full week just does not allow for any extracurricular activities. In fact, I barely have time to cook supper and clean the kitchen each night before it's bedtime. I had the day off today (Good Friday) and I almost screamed when I opened the bedroom door this morning because the house was so disgusting. Toys, dirty clothes, and other clutter covered the living room floor. The dining table was piled with unopened mail from the week. And the few loads of clothes I had managed to wash during the week were still in the basket getting wrinkled. I feel like a whining wimp saying these things because I know there are moms that handle multiple jobs and still keep the house clean, but that's just me. So I spent all day cleaning and you can hardly tell - mostly because the kids "helped" with everything.

I've already decided that weekend blogging sucks because during the week I had so many things to blog about, but I've now forgotten half of them.

Ah yes, I wanted to tell you all that I have lingering guilt over my last post about my friend who returned to her unfaithful husband. She called me the next day and, as I saw her name appear on my phone, I was prepared to give her a piece of my mind. But the instant she greeted me and I heard the happiness in her voice, I lost all my nerve. This may be a huge risk that will end in disaster, but I can tell she really wants to give it a chance. Who am I to judge her? Her situation is different from mine. Her husband is not a sex addict or a child molester. I don't even know their situation well enough to know if he has cheated more than once. Maybe there is real hope for them. Maybe a few years from now he'll have tears in his eyes as he explains to his son that cheating on the one you love is the biggest mistake you could ever make. Maybe they'll have a long, beautiful marriage. One can only hope, right?

I, however, will only have weird relationships for the rest of my days - either with a man who is sexually disturbed and can't ever be a part of my life as a normal spouse again due to restrictions of the law, or with someone else who will have to help raise the children of that sexually disturbed man, which will definitely be awkward. (By the way, one of my great character flaws is that I try to think too far ahead.)

I don't know if I've ever mentioned before that I write a column. It's very local, small time. It's a funny thing to be a columnist because I'm never surprised when complete strangers know who I am. For instance, my new office mate knew me from my column before we worked together. In my column, I recently revealed that my husband is not in the picture any more. For a full year, I had carefully concealed it, but it was getting too hard. Besides, most people had connected the front-page articles with Jake's mugshot to the columnist in the middle of the paper anyhow, so I figured I wasn't really going to reveal anything shocking . . . But in the last few weeks I have been amazed at the number of people who have NOT connected me to Jake. They must just flip to the columns without really reading the front page. Or maybe they don't think too much about two people having the same last name. Well, anyhow, my office-mate Sandra (who is very cool) is one of those people who haven't made the connection. I realized this one day when I stuck my foot in my mouth. A customer walking through our office heard my name and stopped to say, "Aren't you . . ." She looked so serious that I thought she was going to connect me with Jake, but then she smiled and continued, "the one who writes that column?"

Like an idiot, I replied, "Yes! I'm glad that's where you know me from!" She gave me a questioning look and I quickly said, "Oh, just joking." She nodded and waved good-bye, but my coworker continued to look at me strangely for a few more moments.

You know, I've skated along the last year and few months without a lot of social damage from this whole affair. Outside of his job, Jake wasn't very involved in our community and people hardly saw us together. That turned out to be a blessing for me because people who just know my face and my first name don't usually make the connection. For those that did make the connection, they've been completely charitable in their consideration of me as a person independent of my husband's wrongs. I grew quite comfortable with this situation and thought that I had grown past the fear of his crimes hurting my reputation. But now I'm feeling the fear because in two weeks he'll appear for a court hearing and, like clockwork, our local paper will print an update of his case on the front page with his mugshot and our last name in bold capital letters. Will everyone at work suddenly realize who I'm married to? Will they whisper behind my back? Will they treat me like a leper? I wonder if I should forewarn my boss. Would that help at all or just guarantee awkwardness?

One more story: I was at a thrift store yesterday and was juggling Sabrina alongside several shirts on hangers as I headed toward the fitting room. A woman noticed me struggling and offered to hold Sabrina while I tried on clothes. I said no thank you. She replied, "You can trust me, I'm a social worker." I repeated my answered as I tried not to make a face at her. You see, having a sex offender as a husband invites Social Services into your life, and not in a good way. I would have loved to tell her that her title only lowers my trust for her, but I didn't (because I'm nice). But really, isn't that a stupid thing to say. You know who else says, "You can trust me . . . " KIDNAPPERS!

. . . and sex offenders . . . and cheating husbands . . . 

Oh wait, I've got one more thing and then I'm done for the next week. Jake called today. Until today he hasn't called unless I've invited him to, which I've only done once. I answered, thinking it might be an emergency or something. He just wanted to talk. I did my best at giving him the I'm-not-that-interested-in talking-to-you attitude, but it's not like I hung up or anything. It just left me wondering about my boundaries. Obviously, they aren't very strong. The biggest problem is that I want to talk to him. I want to have him in my life. I struggle with the idea that this man I love to talk to is also the person who has hurt me the most. I know that I can't trust him, but I don't feel it in my heart. Damn it, just answering that phone made me feel like an idiotic. I think I'll have to tell him in my next letter that I'm not ready for phone calls. I may convince myself some days that I'm not a mess, but I really really am.

Now, let's all go celebrate the season of rebirth! Even in my un-Christianly spirituality, I love Easter and all it represents. I can't help it because it means hope. Hope that stems from nasty, dark death scenarios must be the best kind, right?

A friend returns to her cheating husband

Recently, I made a new friend. We didn't know each other very well, but we had coffee a few times and bonded over the pain of cheating husbands. I thought I would see her last week, but she wasn't returning my calls or emails. Finally, her mother (also a friend of mine) called to let me know that she had returned to her husband. Wow. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

It was amazing to me that she had gone back to him. She had gone to a lot of trouble to move herself and her two kids away from him in the first place. I actually admired her. Unlike myself, she had the guts to leave. I wished sometimes that I would do that. BUT THEN SHE WENT BACK!!! I was kinda mad at her. I still am.

It just happened that I got that info on the day that I was taking our tax papers to the jail for Jake to sign. It also happened to be visitation day at the jail. I haven't seen Jake in person since before his sentencing in November, except when I saw him at the advisement hearing for the new charges. I've been practicing strict boundaries with him since he was re-arrested, only allowing him to communicate with me through letters unless it is urgent (and I get to decide urgency). It gives me a sense of peace for myself and justice towards him to have these boundaries. And I hope it protects me from being manipulated by him.

Anyhow, I was thinking about visiting him that day, although I was really on the fence because I knew there was no good reason for visiting. Then I found out about my friend going back to her cheating husband. That tipped the scales for me and I did not go see him. In fact, I took a little pleasure in the idea that he would know that I came in person during visiting hours but chose not to visit . . . Actions speak louder than words, you know?

I guess the point of this entry is to describe how much easier it is to make a judgement call about someone else's life. I can easily say that my friend should not have returned to her cheating husband because he is so obviously a jerk and will never change and together they will just ruin the lives of their kids. And yet, here I sit. Lame, right?

I have oodles of loved ones and caring friends saying, "Leave, leave!" I hope they all know that their words are not wasted. They make me feel safe and strengthen me. I think I am leaving in my own way. I'm setting up boundaries and testing them. I'm dividing our accounts and possessions. I'm making plans independently that won't change based on his situation. I am setting up a new shop, so to speak, it's just in the same location. Some days I get giddy thinking about myself as the "new sheriff in town" (the town being our household). I may be moving at a snail's pace (and I may make lots of excuses for the silly ways in which I do things), but I am moving forward. And I am building my own life.

The only question is, if there was a nuclear war today that dissolved all societal structure and Jake came walking up to the house as a "free" man, where would my boundaries be then? It is likely they would crumble. That is why I usually count his incarceration as a blessing!

Con Man

Have you ever been conned?

I remember being conned by a guy in San Francisco when I was 12. I was with my mom. We wanted to ride the cable car, so we were reading the instructions on the ticket machine. A guy came up, offered to help, and sold us two tickets - one was valid and the other was expired. On the cable car, the ticket collector made us pay for another ticket. It was embarrassing. It made us feel stupid and sad. We had lost money, comfort, pride, and self esteem. It ruined the whole day. Still, as much as I enjoy San Francisco, it makes me think of that day and causes me pain.

My husband's actions have recreated those feelings of being conned. Only take the feelings of one instance on one day and multiply them times every day of every year of our four years of marriage. Add to that the pain that is attached to every memory of him as a husband and father - every memory that I used to cherish. I can't even look at our children without feeling such deep sorrow. They deserved a father, not a felon. We were conned.

Grief is the other part of what I'm feeling. I shouldn't say "other" since my emotions are all intertwined. I should say that sometimes my ever-shifting array of emotions resembles grief. The husband I thought I had has died in my mind and heart, over and over. The worst part is that it never stops because he is actually still alive. It's like having a ghost haunting you in the image of someone once dear to you. It keeps the pain fresh.

In a moment of anger, a week or so after Jake was arrested, I said to my friend J, "It would have been easier if he had died." I regretted those words almost immediately because, well, they just aren't nice. I believe death is a serious thing, not to be wished on our worst enemies. But those words still ring true. If he had died, the grief would have an end. If he had died, I wouldn't be embarrassed to talk about him. If he had died, I wouldn't worry about the other kids at school shunning my children because of what their father is. And (most shameful thought of all) if he had died, his life insurance would keep us afloat instead of this financial hole he has left us in.

Death would have been easier. That's just a fact. But if he were to die, I'd probably regret ever thinking it.

But then, maybe this is part of the con - making me a victim of my own angry thoughts.

The three types of sex offender wives

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!

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?

Dreams

I am putting off writing the next part in the February 16, 2011 story. It is more painful to recall than I thought it would be. I'll get to it this weekend, maybe.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share some of the crazy dreams I've had lately. It seems that the recent drama mixed with Valentine's Day and too much T.V. really stirred up my imagination.

First, I had a dream that I went on a date with President Obama. That's weird, right? Even in my dream I was wondering how I ended up on a date with the President. I think I said something to him once, like, "Gosh, you're kinda old for me . . . and aren't you married?" It didn't phase me at all that he was the leader of our nation, but then I've always aimed high (which is how I ended up with an unfaithful, sex addicted teacher in rural farm country).

A few days later, I had a very convoluted dream that I was both Anna and Ethel from PBS's Downton Abbey. If you haven't watched this show, go check it out. A quick explanation: Anna marries a man who is accused of murdering his ex-wife and she stands by him through the trial. Ethel gets knocked-up by a soldier and abandoned with the baby (this is the early 1900s when no one would give a job to an unmarried mother). I don't think it takes much imagination to see why I identify with these characters. I take more to Ethel (in all her self-righteous stupidity) than I do to the purely devoted Anna, mostly because I've been in Anna's shoes and got burned. I want to scream at her, "HE DID IT! HE KILLED HER! RUN AWAY!"

Lastly - the craziest one of all - I dreamed that I was spending time with a man who was devoted and loving. He put his arm around me so naturally and adoringly. He was relaxed and simple in his manners. He was just content to be with me, without the need for a sexual goal. Just a good man, imagine that.

The dreams themselves can be shrugged off and forgotten, but the greater meaning comes from the theme: relationships and dating. For the first time since all this started, I'm thinking about my relationship with my husband in the past tense. I'm identifying with women who have been separated or abandoned by their mates. My imagination is playing with scenarios of how to start a new romance. Up until now, I haven't thought about leaving or divorce or anything along those lines. It's strange to have my self-conscious working ahead of me. Is there really a part of me that is ready to move on already? If there is, then it is the minority because most of me feels a little nauseous at the thought of any kind of romance (and downright opposed to anything sexual). But then, I also feel like these dreams are a signal of where I might be heading . . . Strange.

Or maybe it was just the Valentine's Day subliminal messages that infected my colorful dreamscape.