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. 

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.

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.

The Sunny State

The last time I posted was in June. I made a big decision around that time: to leave. I decided to get out of Colorado and return to my hometown in California. The move happened the first week of August. I would have left sooner than that, but arrangements took a while. Right before the move, I had become really scared. I wasn't sleeping out of fear. My in-laws could sense something happening and they started sneaking around behind my back. I believe they thought I was going to sell my husband's possessions, so they were taking them. Whatever they were thinking, they just ramped up my paranoia. The move itself took a big toll on me, the kids, and my immediate family members, but the shear happiness of knowing I was out - wow! I had reclaimed my life! I slept like a log for almost 12 hours the first night in California. I have had some emotional days since then - regrets, ideas on how I could have done things differently, fear of the future - but the happiness and relief have always won out. I'm really truncating this story to get back to my point . . . 

I could say that I stopped posting in June because I was spending all my time and energy planning a move, which was true . . . But really, I stopped posting because I thought this story was over. However, I just got a few reminders that this story never ends.

First, I had a visitor to my blog. It was woman who I believe recently became aware that her husband is a sex offender. She left some sympathetic and passionate statements that reminded me of comments I left on some other blogs when I first entered this arena. I remember searching the internet for other women like me. Were other women feeling the same emotions? Were they struggling with love in the midst of betrayal? How did they make decisions about their marriage? How did they face their community? How did they raise their children? What did they see when they looked in the mirror? A "co-dependent"? A "co-addict"? A victim?

Her presence, reminding me of myself about a year ago, made me want to stay active on this blog for the sake of other women.We have a lot in common and a lot to learn from each other. I hope other women will start their own blogs or volunteer or share their stories in whatever way they are inspired. Keeping the conversation going is important.

The second thing that brought me back was a mild panic attack over the safety of some children that I suddenly feared were being left in the company of a sex offender. I was relieved to learn later that they were with someone safe and measures are being taken to keep them that way. There is more to that story and maybe I'll tell it someday, but my point tonight is that there is an ongoing problem beyond my family and my marriage and my children.

 I think many wives (and other non-victim family members) of sex offenders hide themselves out of shame, and yet we have some valuable insight that could help others. My story is mine, but it echoes so many . . . if the many would connect, share, and learn from each other than we would feel less shame and start having the courage to say, "Hey, I know something about this problem. I know the warning signs. I know how to prevent this." Or, "I know how to help a family that is broken by this." If the presence of my blog helps a woman step away from her shame (undeserved shame, by the way), inspire her to reclaim her life (whether or not it includes the offender), and spread a little awareness then I'm here to stay.

California, by the way, is perfectly sunny. Colorado meanwhile is having a cold snap. I am very happy to be here despite my unemployment, impending divorce, and financial dependency on my parents. You'll hear about those stories another day, I'm sure! Anyhow, I'm thinking that I'll be a sporadic blogger, but I hope that anyone who comes across this blog will feel free to comment. All comments end up in my inbox, so you aren't talking to yourself!

A Happy Father's Day (except for . . . )

One would think that Father's Day would be a bummer around our household. I certainly thought it would. The week before, the daycare teacher told me that they were making something special for Father's Day and asked who Elise should make her gift for. I instructed her to make it for Grandpa (Jake's dad). I asked the teacher if that would be weird, but she said, "A lot of other kids don't have dads either." The idea that my kids aren't alone in their fatherless state is sadly comforting, but it still haunted me the rest of the week.

Understandably, Elise talked a lot about Daddy all week. She asked me again and again where he was and when he would come back. I used to tell her that he was on a trip or working. A while back she had commented on how long his "trip" had been, so I decided it was time to let the truth start creeping in. I told her that Daddy had gotten in trouble. I told her that he had made bad choices and because of those choices he couldn't come home. She parroted back something like, "Being in trouble means you can't come home . . ." I didn't want her to think that she would be banned from our home when she got in trouble next time, so I tried to clarify that it was only the kind of trouble that grown-ups can get into. She didn't care, she just wanted to know when he'd come home again. I told her that he was the only one who could make that happen by making good choices. She seemed to accept that and stopped worrying about it. I just wish I knew what she was thinking.

Anyhow, the week before Father's Day, Elise made up all sorts of sweet stories involving Daddy. She would tell me almost every day about things she did with her Daddy and absolutely none of them were true. But they were all happy stories, like how Daddy gave her a pet frog. I let her indulge in the stories because it made her happy, although I secretly worry that someday she'll think those are real memories and hold it against me for taking her away from such an awesome dad. If only she did have a dad that good.

Well, the weekend came. One of Jake's sisters brought her family to visit and we planned a big dinner on Sunday. I expected Jake's parents to be real downers because we just haven't gotten along well lately, but they really were fantastic. They came over to my house Friday evening just to help me inflate a kiddie pool. They didn't have a "shopping list" from Jake or any other motive to come over other than to help me - I almost cried with happiness! They even kept mention of Jake down to minimum all weekend, although they just had to brag about how great his wood carvings are. And on Father's Day there was just happiness among all the family.

It was a really good time and I am very thankful. It felt so good, in fact, that it made me think twice about keeping my divorce plans a secret from his family. I don't want to alienate them with this horrible surprise. I started thinking that I was probably being paranoid in thinking that Jake would ever try to hurt us. So that night I prayed that God would give me some reassuring dreams about this whole situation and set my mind at ease. Instead, I had really disturbing dreams in which I was living all alone in a very different life without my kids and without any purpose - depressing, but not scary. I started coming out of the dream, just enough to know that I was dreaming, but not quite awake. Then I heard a truly frightening sound that had me awake in an instant. It was the sound of someone walking through my house and into my bedroom. My eyes flew open and my heart was pounding in my throat. I stared at the foot of my bed a few long moments, trying to see who was standing there because I knew - I KNEW - that someone was there. Not having any better idea, I decided to turn on the light and face the intruder. No one was there. I was really scared the rest of that night. I was scared the next day, too. I don't have any weird notions that it was a foretelling of the future or even a sign from God, despite the prayer that led to it. It was just enough for me to have my subconscious reaffirm its fears.

So, the weekend as a whole was truly wonderful, except for that night. I will keep my plans to move as stealthily as possible toward this divorce. Simultaneously, I will try to indulge in the family love that really does exist here and hope that those ties are lasting.

Feeling Territorial

This last month has been horrendous. Besides the dog dying, the water heater breaking, and the daycare incident, I haven't had the chance to tell you the more on-topic stories.

Before the water heater stuff happened, Jake had asked if his woodworking tools could be moved from our garage to his parents' shop. I arranged a day and asked some neighbors to come help. It was actually quite uplifting that so many people were willing to pitch in for my sorry husband (or maybe it was despite him). Most of the activity was in our garage, but I also had to go to our basement and pack a box of his woodworking books.

The next day my mom came to visit. A few days into her visit and Jake's parents said they were coming over to say hi to my mom. It was less of a friendly visit and more of a shopping run for Jake, since they arrived with a list in hand of all the things that had been forgotten. It was annoying, but I tried to be understanding. I did some barely audible grumbling when they said, "You forgot some books." Not, Oh please go look to see if there are any other books. Whatever, I soothed myself by thinking about how I'm unloading his stuff from my life.

My mom and I went away for a few days because of the broken water heater. When we came back, my mother was trying to put away the stroller and found the storage area locked - I never lock that door. I had to go find the key.

The very next day, after my mom had left, I invited Jake's parents over to visit the kids. They came with another list. This time, more of the items were in our house and basement instead of the garage. They barely looked at the kids. I stayed calm by imagining that this was the LAST time they would need to do this.

While they were collecting items from my house (without any please or thank you or do you mind?), I happened to mention the storage area being locked and asked if they had gone in there last time.

Kay said, "Oh, I must have locked it when we came over the weekend - you were gone then." Steam started blowing out my ears, I swear, and yet I smiled because I didn't know what else to do.

I said, "Well, I was really freaked out because I wasn't sure that I knew where the key was."

Big Rev shrugged, "That's okay, we had a key."

Are you kidding me people? They acted totally at ease with coming and going from MY residence without notifying me or getting permission! And they were completely unconcerned that I would be able to have access to my own possessions (but THEY had access, so it was okay).

Finally, before they left, I got up the nerve to say, "Next time you're coming over, let me know. The locked storage area . . . that was a little wierd."

And they did ask the next time. How many more times will they do this? I'm feeling threatened and encroached upon.

On the path to divorce

Lately, as I explain to my closest family and friends that I am planning to divorce Jake and move away from here, they tend to say something like, "It sounds like you are on the right path."

My response to that is, "Sure, I'm on the path, but I have no idea where it is going or how to take the first step." But I guess it's good that I'm on the path.

This path is really freaking steep and rocky and you wouldn't believe what they charge at the toll booth . . .

Anyhow, I'm taking this divorce idea very seriously now. I talked to my lawyer about it. (By the way, every time I say "my lawyer" I squirm a little. I still haven't got used to the fact that there is a lawyer that I have paid enough money in the past that I actually call her "my lawyer"). She thinks it will be fairly easy, given the criminal position my husband is in.

I talked to a friend of mine that recently divorced her abusive husband. She was reassuring and full of advice. She also thinks this will be easy.

Easy or not, I'm still terrified of going through with this divorce. The worst part, I think, will be breaking the news to Jake and his family. I'm nervous about how Jake will take the news. I've never seen him act out in a violent way, but I'm still scared. Even now, he has no idea that I'm planning to divorce him, but he knows I'm mad at him and he knows that I don't think he's fit to be a father . . . and that's enough to keep me awake at night, scared he's going to snap and come kill us. I try to tell myself that we're safe because he has the ankle monitor on, but the ankle monitor will just alert the sheriff that he's left the property. It doesn't physically stop him. So, in theory, he could get in a car, drive the two miles of gravel road (straight shot to our house) and do damage before the police even get in their cars ten miles away in town.

It's paranoia, I'm sure. Again, I've never seen him be violent - self-centered, greedy, insensitive, but not violent. But just in case, I had a friend of our family remove Jake's guns and ammo from our house. To be extra safe, I'm keeping this divorce hush-hush until the day I file. That same day, I'm going to say good-bye to this house and drive off in a moving van.

It get's tricky after that because a person filing for divorce can't leave the state without the permission of the court. So I'll be in limbo for a little while. I'll stay at a local hotel or a friends' house - just as long as I'm closer to the police than Jake. That's okay, though, because I want a little time to tell my friends what's happening and say good-bye. I want Elise to be able to say good-bye to her friends, too. And I really want to tell Jake's parents in person about the divorce. My own mother cringes at that idea because she knows, as I know, that they won't understand. I am pretty sure they will only tell me I'm doing the wrong thing and think the worst of me. It's going to be tough.

It's also going to be expensive. My friend who divorced her abusive husband spent $3500 on the divorce. I have $4500 in savings. That money was intended for the move and living expenses when I get there. I'm just holding my breath that the judge lets me move sooner than later so I can find a job before the lawyer's bill rolls in!

The D-word

Divorce.

When Jake was arrested for the first time in 2011, I felt like everyone automatically assumed that I was going to leave him. I am very sensitive to the expectations of others, so this tore me to pieces. I didn't want a divorce then. I wanted to hold my family together, solve the problems and heal the wounds. I wanted to shovel the shit into my garden to grow flowers. Apparently I'm an optimist.

Now, I'm in such a different place. I really want to leave. I look at all the damage that's been done and I'm ready to walk away. My soul feels bruised. I think about having a second chance away from here and it makes me smile.

But still, as much as I want to leave, I don't want to go through a divorce. I know in my mind and heart that this marriage is done, but I can't get myself to move forward. I've been using that d-word more often in conversation with certain people I trust, partially because I need to try the idea on and exercise it a little. For so long, I've cringed at the word that it is hard to turn around and embrace it. I even find myself trying to puzzle out a way to avoid a divorce . . . but that would be cowardly and downright dishonest to myself and my kids.

I've also realized that I'm scared of what Jake will do when he finds out. I've never seen him violent and I've never worried about it before, but suddenly I'm obsessing over whether the doors and windows are all locked at night. I reassure myself that he's wearing an ankle monitor, but then I lie awake thinking about how it would take him less than five minutes to get here while the police would likely take longer. My fears got bad enough that I called a family friend and asked that she remove the guns from my house (two pistols, a rifle, and a shotgun that all belonged to Jake, although I only ever saw him shoot the shotgun and then it was at prowling coyotes) just to limit the weapons that could be used in a moment of anger. I'm also thinking that I won't file for divorce until I'm physically out of our house and staying somewhere closer to the police than Jake.

I have lingering guilt, too, like I'm breaking my holy marriage vows. Sure, he broke them first, but I'm a "turn the other cheek" kind of girl.  I never in a million years could have imagined that I'd be contemplating divorce. But here I am. 

Sick Family, Sick Dog

After that phone call with Jake, I didn't talk to him for more than a week and intended that to last longer. Life went on. He called me a few times and I let it go to voicemail. I realized that I could request a "no contact" situation again, but I kinda liked that he knew that I was ignoring him. Immature? Sure, but I think I deserve to be the one in control for a while - visibly in control. Jake's parents came over a few times for supper. They brought the food. I never asked who cooked the food and they never said, but I'm sure we all know. If I didn't really need a break from cooking I would have complained.

Everything was going pretty well until Sabrina got sick. I took a day off work. Then I got sick and spent the whole weekend on the sofa plus took another day off work. Then Elise got sick and I took three days off work. Altogether I worked 25 hours in two weeks. Paying the bills is going to be tight this month

In the midst of all our own sickness, I noticed that our dog, Barkey, was not looking so good. I took him to the vet only to find out that he was suffering from complications due to cancer. The vet said there was really no treatment that would improve his situation and it was already quite advanced, so he recommended euthanasia. It was a tough week, trying to plan our dog's last moments. I had it planned so that I would take Barkey over to my in-law's house while the kids were at daycare so that Jake and I could both be with Barkey as he died. I truly believe that it's a blessing to be with someone as they die, so it was important to me to be there with Barkey. Unfortunately, that was the day Elise vomited at daycare, so I had to stay home with her. I gave Barkey a big hug and watched him ride off, never to come home again.

I let down my guard during the whole Barkey situation and talked to Jake in person a few times. We both cried and sobbed while making arrangements. He made a motion to hug me, but I snapped, "I don't want to hug you!" He really started crying then. I felt like a monster.

On Friday, I received a letter from Jake. It mostly reminisced about Barkey. He had added a drawing of a punch-tin design to replace a missing window in our china hutch. The design featured a pair of love birds. My letter back to him started with "I don't want love birds in the hutch. Do you understand how mad I am at you? There may be no coming back from this. "  I didn't rant much more in the letter - not that I didn't want to, but I didn't have the energy.

I decided to throw an odd request into the letter. I asked him to give the names of all his victims to the court. He'll think it's a crazy idea and refuse to do it, I'm sure. I just explained that I couldn't support him or have any kind of relationship with him as long as I know that there are other victims out there who have yet to press charges. If he could sacrifice his future by giving up those names I know I would sleep better at night for the sake of those victims, but also because I would finally know that Jake CAN do the right thing instead of the selfish thing. But since I doubt that he'll ever do that . . .

I'm starting to plan my move. I wanted to move to the city my parents live in, but the housing costs are ridiculous. So now I'm researching the city that my brother lives in, just two hours' drive from my parents. I'm excited to live near my own family and be in a place where no one knows my husband. But I'm already mourning this house and this community and the lifestyle we live here.

Out on Bail

No joke. Jake is going to be out on bail any minute now.

Frankly, I'm a little blown away. The judge lowered the bail from $250,000 to $100,000 considering Jake's cooperation and previous good behavior on probation. That is not the part that shocked me though. I figured it didn't matter what the bail was because none of us could afford it. But after the hearing, his parents were having serious discussions about contacting a bondsman. I asked how they were going to pay for it and Big Rev said, "Grandma's paying for it." Jake's Grandma could probably pay the whole bail amount upfront in one check, but I never thought she would. Well, I guess people never cease to amaze.

Jake will have to follow all the restrictions that were a part of his probation terms when he was sentenced last year. He will have very limited places he can go, mainly his family's farm, and will have an ankle monitor. He will be allowed to go to treatment weekly.

I am unsure how I feel about this. I'm a little dismayed. I keep thinking I have a grip on my reality and then it shifts again. I haven't quite learned to embrace the change, I guess. I was getting comfortable with him being in jail. I was in control of everything. I had built-in boundaries that even I couldn't screw up.

I'm trying to remind myself that he will now be able to take back many of the responsibilities that I don't want. He can manage his own bills and business. I can stop wasting my time shoveling his shit, as my mother once said. I should be relieved.

Also, which I maybe should have mentioned first, his accuser was in court today and gave a statement. It hurt to see her. It hurt when she made eye contact with me. I felt like she was seeking some sort of approval from me. I felt like I was supporting the wrong side of the law. Her statement was simple. She just told the judge that she would always struggle with what Jake had done to her and she wants to protect others from the same thing, including me and my children. Honestly, I feel a little disgusted by her bringing my children up - I'm their mother, let me protect them. Mostly though, I felt guilty for supporting the man who hurt her.

After court, in one of the weirdest moments of my life, I drove over to the Social Services office and asked to see Umbridge. I detest this woman, but I didn't know who else to talk to. I told her that I wanted Jake's accuser to know that I'm not against her. I want her to know that she is doing what I would want my daughter or sister or friend to do in her position. I also made it clear to Umbridge that I DO NOT want to communicate or have any kind of relationship with this woman.

Umbridge said, "You want her to know that you're okay with this, right?"

"No, I'm not okay with this. I wish none of it was happening. Just let her know that this isn't her fault and she's not doing anything wrong."

I'm still not sure why I did that. Will I regret it later? 

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!