Changes and Choices

Women are attracted to this blog because of a common sort of situation that came about in a shock of change. It was a change that was forced upon us. Our families have been torn apart, we have entered legal mazes we haven't understood, our financial and work lives have been ripped to shreds, and emotions have flown into dangerous upheaval, but somehow we have survived it all. As the dust settles there are new kinds of changes that ARE our choice. Divorce or not. Moving or staying. Expressing or suppressing.

I've managed to move past the hardest part of the forced changes. Now I'm rebuilding a life. It's still hard and it often sucks, but there is a lot of happiness here, too. I have a new job, a new romance, and I'm even taking some classes toward a new career path. There are many pleasant choices here.

I almost forget sometimes what all I've been through. Wouldn't it be nice to just move on and pretend it never happened? That's part of the reason I disappeared from this blog for almost half of last year. I just kept putting it off because I was too stressed or too happy or just too busy with "normal" life . . . The problem is that "normal" lives aren't exempt from the problems that we have experienced so acutely. Everyone is truly touched by the same sexual issues in our society, just in different ways through various roles. I've circled this issue many times in my head: I can't escape these problems, but maybe by continuing the conversation on this blog I am helping to push the tide in the right direction, even if all I'm doing is supporting other wives and mothers like me. So I will resist the urge to turn my back and walk away. I will choose to keep going.

You know, it's nice to make choices that create changes instead of making choices just to survive them.

Even though I've chosen to keep blogging, I've also realized that I couldn't keep things going as they were. I know that I'll still face personal funks and I'll lose momentum, so I decided to get more voices into the mix. I've invited all of you who have been through similar situations to share on the blog. That invitation still stands (see the instructions, here).  I've also decided to bring on a co-blogger, Janet Mackie. I believe she has a wisdom and perspective that we all can learn from. She is the one who pointed out to me that we have all had change forced upon us and she also knows that pain personally.While I am blogging from the bubble of my life, she tends to look at a bigger picture. I hope she'll add an interesting and harmonious dynamic to this blog. Janet's first post will appear this weekend. Please come back soon to "meet" Janet and give her a welcome!

I am coming up on the third anniversary of my husband being arrested as a sex offender, so the changes I faced will be haunting me for the next month or so. I want to make something positive out of that pain. Please help me here with your voices. Let's support each other in surviving and healing. Let's also chose together not to turn a blind eye to the sexual issues in our society, but instead contribute toward greater positive change in whatever way we can.

We laughed at first . . .

The following story is from Marie. 

"It was 6:30 in the morning, when I paused in the shower. I couldn't figure out what that sound was. Shampoo still in my hair, I turned off the water. Down stairs someone yells "Police! Put your hands up!" There's no time to run across the hallway to grab my robe. Quickly wrapping myself in a towel, I walk to the top of the stairs. "I'm coming down. My hands are up!" I descend the first couple of stairs and I can't count the number of police in the dark. They cuff me and take me outside into the apartment complex. My husband is already kneeling on the ground.

After searching the apartment, they take us back inside. I'm finally escorted back up stairs, and allowed to dress while being watched by two officers. They bring me back to my husband and sit me on the couch with him. I smile at him and he smiles back. We laugh a little bit. What a story we're going to have.

A crazy neighbor had called the cops on my sister just a couple of weeks before. We were going to have a much better story, we thought.

But it was only the beginning.

My husband was charged with “luring a minor for sexual exploitation”. I didn’t even know what that meant. No one would tell me anything. I was only able to speak with him for a moment after they questioned him and placed him under arrest. That night he called from jail, again we spoke briefly. I told him that I was going to love him no matter what. The next day I read about the arrest in the news. How was it that the reporter had more information than I did? I posted bail as quickly as I could. When I picked him up 3 days later, I saw that his wrists were bandaged. During the questioning the cops had lied to him, telling him how angry I was with him. The guards at the jail laughed at him when he said that I would bail him out. He was hopeless, so he tried to commit suicide.

Six months prior my husband had an online conversation with a cop posing as a minor. He never showed up to meet. But it didn’t matter, it was the conversation that was illegal.

He’s serving time in jail right now, after agreeing to a plea bargain. I made a commitment for better or for worse. And I do love and treasure him, I just never thought it would be like this."

In an update email from Marie:

 

"My husband has been out of jail for 2 months. It's been hard for him, but he found us a home church (some place without kids). Through that he found a job and a marriage counselor for us. But most importantly he shared his story with the group. He only shared the details with a few of the men, but it's the honesty that strikes me the most. He hid his problems with pornography and all the related issues for years. Finally he's being honest and I believe that if he can continue to be honest then we can heal and that there is hope. That's where we're at right now." 

Marie is at the beginning of a long journey we all recognize. But let's not predict where this story is going. I am tempted to jump to conclusions, as I'm sure many others are out there. However, Marie's husband is not my husband, so I can't say what kind of man he is nor how this will affect their marriage. This is Marie's life and her choices. God bless you, Marie. Be strong and wise. 

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. 

When your own life is the leading story

The following is a message I received by email from another woman who has gone through a very similar situation. She writes so well about something we will all understand:

"I think so many folks are inclined to think that stories like this only lie within the fringes of society, or are the makings of Jerry Springer spots.  It's so easy to flip on the news or read the paper and see the stories as distant, removed - the problems of all those "other people."  There really aren't words for the day when you find that your own life is the leading story on the 11 o'clock news and the front page of the newspaper. I don't have any friends that are divorced, much less have spouses or family members, or even distant acquaintances who have been convicted of felony crimes.  My husband and I were active in our community and church, good-standing members of society.  I find that my friends, family, and colleagues don't even know what to say and most have opted to simply ignore that anything has even happened.  It's as if even the mere reference to my husband will taint them in some foul, repulsive way.  To this day, I'm still greeted by many with looks of pity or masked sympathy, when I know that the unspoken question from so many is "how could she not have known? how could she have married such a monster?  what kind of issues does she have to have been attracted to someone like that?" I don't kid myself into thinking that people really don't make those kind of judgments. 

"I confide in you on these points not so much because I'm dwelling on what other people think, but because I find that other than through professional counseling, there is virtually no support for women in our circumstances. I'm not trying to play victim when I say that - I take full responsibility for who I married and chose to have children with.  I don't expect society to come running to my rescue.  But I do think it's helpful to connect with each other and others in similar circumstances from time to time. . . It's just comforting in some ways to know that there are others who have experienced similar experiences and truly understand the pain and trauma of something so devastating."

When I first received an email from this woman, I asked her if she would like to share on this blog. She declined, saying that she wasn't ready to talk about her story, but in that second email was also the message above. I thought it was worth sharing. If anyone else out there wants to share a message, you don't have to give personal details of your life story because sometimes a sympathetic message to others in your situation is enough.

Kid at Heart

Today around 10 am, I was hiding in the bathroom at work, crying. You will wonder, what sort of terrible life event could drive a grown woman to burst into tears in a professional environment. Was someone diagnosed with cancer? Did I get laid off again? Did my car break down? No and no and no.

Shamefully, I would like to confide in you that I was crying because I wasn't on the employee gift list. Seriously. I am a temp, hired through a third-party agency, working at the nicest company on the planet and I'm thankful EVERY day . . . except today for ten minutes in the morning when I was a heartbroken little kid because they didn't think to include temps on the company gift list. And the gifts are really nice. And it was my job to package them all . . . alllllll those pretty gifts, sigh.

But that is not my point! After my little meltdown, as I was looking in the mirror and wiping mascara off my cheeks, I thought, "What a funny thing to have lived through the hell I've lived through and then start crying over a silly present." You would think that I'd grown some thicker skin and risen above such trifles.

I pondered this all day (especially after management realized their heartless oversight and added temps to the gift list and it was much easier to contemplate everything serenely) and I came to this conclusion. When life gets hard, I respond with a survivor's instinct. I act tough and power through. I accept that life is cruel and I should count myself lucky for not having it worse. However, there is still a kid in my heart who wants to have the happy, sparkling life. ESPECIALLY AT CHRISTMAS! I want twinkling lights, presents, and yummy foods. I want to have fun and forget that life is hard and unfair.

This time of year has no less challenges despite being marked as the "Holidays". I'm still sharing a house with my parents, two kids, and four cats. I still am financially strapped. I'm still not solidly employed. And I'm still struggling with depression.

And then there was that letter Jake sent, which didn't help. He wrote such a "nice" letter, filled with descriptions about his life and his deep thoughts. He said he thought we should stay in contact and have an ongoing conversation because someday he'll be back in the kids' lives and so this would make it easier . . . I hate him. I hate that he's going to do this. He's going to act nice, like the good guy, and play it up for sympathy. It kills me that HIS life seems easy. He's learning a new trade in prison. He's part of some kind of group that explores their personal problems together and tries to heal and grow. Everyone likes him and looks up to him and thinks he's great. But here I am, still reeling from the emotional and financial turmoil he left us in. He concluded his letter with "Please tell the girls that I love them and miss them."

I'm going to write him back and ask him not to send me any more personal letters. I am also going to remind him that he cannot have contact with children under 18, including his own children, not even passive communication. Some of you will think this is harsh and cold. But Jake is a con man. He is manipulative and coercive. I don't fear for myself any more, but I feel strongly in my heart that he will enter my kids' lives again only to take advantage of them somehow. Will it be sex? Or money? Or just to play their emotions like a yo-yo? Well, my job as a parent is to protect my kids from con men and to teach them how to protect themselves.

And after I write that letter, I will write Christmas cards to the good people in my life. I will forget my problems for a few weeks, maybe, and let my kid-at-heart have the Christmas she wants so badly. Happy holidays to all of you. I hope you are surrounded with those you love and those who love you. I hope you feel safe and happy through the new year. God bless you and your kid-at-heart!

By the way, please forgive me for being absent for six months. I plan to continue this blog and I have some nice ideas to make it more of a community project. Just be patient with me, I have a lot on my plate and I tend to get weepy when I get overloaded (as demonstrated!).

Share your story with me

I don't know what kind of magic has been working lately, but I'm starting to get some actual activity on this blog! Holy cow, I'm not talking to myself . . . which makes me a little more self-conscience. But excited, too.

So I want to ask a question of other people going through similar situations - do you want to share your stories on this blog? I'm not sure how this would work, so let's play it by ear. Send me something in a decent blog length, maybe somewhere between 300 and 2000 words that you want to share. It could be your whole story or just a piece of it or your opinion on some piece of this nasty puzzle we are all trapped in.

I may not print everything that is sent to me or I may just print a part of something. I withhold my right to pick and choose. I promise I won't censor based on whether or not I agree with you. Variety is good, it will be welcome! Emotions will be welcome. Anything that will hurt other readers here will not be welcome.

You may use your real name or a pen name or just go by Anonymous. I will make it very clear that it is a guest blog and give credit to the name you want to go by.

Send your stories to evie.pruett@gmail.com

I'll be waiting!
(And, as always, I encourage you all to start your own blogs. The more of us talking, the less scary this all will be)

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?