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.

What does abuse look like?

Abuse takes many forms. It doesn't always leave a bruise. Emotions and self-esteem are damaged more often than flesh. Spouses abuse each other with words way too often. Sexual abuse doesn't always equal rape. An adult may be "consenting" but not actually want to do something. Communication, awareness for each other, and empathy are all requirements to avoid abuse, but are sadly lacking in most relationships. Boundaries break down as one person takes another's love for granted. The abused slowly loses sight of what is right. The temperature in the pot is steadily rising and they don't realize it is about to boil.

I believe I was in an abusive relationship. I was taken for granted and disrespected. He gave me all of his problems and then blamed them on me and left me to clean them up. Everything he did to me was legal. I could talk about most things in public without getting more than a cringe from my loved ones. It was very hard to decipher whether things were really wrong or just stressed. I took it all lovingly, as a good spouse should do, thinking it would get better with time. It took me this long to realize the damage it caused me. If that damage had been a bruise on my face, I would have been gone a long time ago.

How do we stop perpetuating abusive relationships when they are so subtle? How do we convince ourselves or our friends that they are being abused? How do we teach our children to avoid and prevent abuse? Harder still, how do we teach them to leave it?

Deciding to move on

A few posts ago, I said something about still loving Jake. Even though I thought it was true, it sort of irked me to say it. I started asking myself throughout each day if I loved Jake. For instance, I'd be washing dishes and I'd think, Do I love him? Taking a shower, Do I love him now? Processing data at work, Is this love I feel?  The answer more often than not was I don't know. It is strange and rather disturbing to have spent so much energy on him in the name of love and suddenly not feel that love.

A week ago, I packed up a bag of things for Jake, like his bills and checkbooks. I included a letter. It was the standard letter that I've been sending to him while he was in jail. I talk about the weather, whine about all the crap I have to deal with because he's not doing it, and then try to add something positive so he won't get too depressed. This time I also added explanations about the condition of all his accounts that I had been handling. There have been problems with the escrow on the mortgage, so after realizing it was too complicated to explain in a letter I gave him an invitation to call me last Wednesday.

Wednesday came and I had to take a long drive, which is why I thought it would be a good day to talk to him with few interruptions. I told myself that it didn't matter if he called or not. I was just trying to help him and, really, I'd have a better day if I didn't talk to him. But I anxiously checked my cell phone to make sure I hadn't missed his call. I'm so lame. At this point, I already had it in my mind that I maybe didn't love him anymore. Should I tell him that? How can I tell him about something so big if I don't even know for sure?

He finally called when I was 5 minutes from my destination, of course. At first, we talked lightly about the mortgage. I asked if his parents were keeping him busy, so he told me about the projects he was doing. He asked me if I would come over and spend some time with him, just visiting. I told him I wasn't ready for that. To be honest, I wanted to say yes. I wanted to just relax in his company, talk, laugh.

He asked about how we are going to communicate in the future. I told him that I was assuming we would use his treatment provider as the middle-man for a while again. That's when he told me that all the letters we sent through her before he was arrested the second time were now in the District Attorney's evidence folder. I was a little thrown back by that. I felt somewhat violated. There was nothing I said that they could be interested in. I mean, when you know that a letter will be read by your therapist and his TP, you don't put a lot of personal stuff in it. But still, the idea that my words and my relationship with my husband was now part of the evidence in a felony trial . . . I feel a little dirty. Jake suggested that we talk without her - "Even if we have to mail letters back and forth" - just to avoid that happening again. I kinda agree.

The next day he called a couple times because he needed some family financial information to apply for the public defender. I tried to keep it really "down to business" because I wasn't sure I wanted to encourage these friendly talks any more.

Late one night I woke up to all the battery back-ups in the house beeping. I couldn't figure out what was happening, so I called Jake. He helped me trouble-shoot. It was nice to have his help. I could tell that he was proud to be able to help, too.

The next morning, though, I was ready to push our relationship back to letters. It's hard to explain what I was feeling, but there was sort of a war going on in my head and heart that was making me depressed. I was physically in pain and couldn't concentrate. That was last Friday and I had to work. Around lunch time, I saw that Jake had left messages on my phone. He wanted me to call his TP and tell her that we were communicating so that he wouldn't get in trouble for it. I used my lunch break to call her. She was her typical straight-forward, no bullshit self. I explained that I wasn't comfortable with our communication becoming part of evidence. She explained that the police took it with a warrant.

I said, "And that could happen again, couldn't it?"

She said, "Yes, it could happen again, as other victims come forward."

That wasn't the topic I was aiming for, but I took the invitation. "How many more victims do you think there are?"

I'm not a complete fool, I know that there are likely more victims. I also know that she is in the business of expecting these things. I just hoped that I could listen to what she had to say and decide that she was being overly pessimistic . . .

"Lots more. He has revealed them on his sex history."

I started to choke up. "What kind of victims? More high school girls?"

"Children."

Now I was downright sobbing, "When?!"

"I haven't reviewed the file recently, but I believe these were kids he babysat when he was 18 to 20 years old."

I was crying and blubbering so much that I can't remember anything else. I was mad at her for telling me that, but it empowered me to do what I had been putting off. I called Jake and let my anger fly. Sitting in my car in the parking lot at work, mascara running all over my face, I screamed at him. I listed every evil he has ever done to me and anyone else I could think of. He was panicked, flipping back and forth between defending himself and apologizing. 

I told him what his TP had told me and he replied, "They weren't children, they were like 13 or 14 years old." I couldn't even continue that line of conversation because I was so appalled that he acted like there was nothing wrong with that!

I decided to stick to me. I told him that I didn't want his love because it full of lies. He denied lying to me. I told him he didn't act with any respect toward me when he was sleeping with other women. He denied cheating on me. I screamed at him "LIAR! LIAR!"

Then I finally released the one thing that I hadn't told him before. "I read you face book messages."

He didn't understand at first.

"You know, the ones where you were inviting women over to our house for sex because your 'wife and daughter were out of town'."

"That doesn't count! Nothing ever happened!" 

"It does count! If they would have said yes and come over, then you would have slept with them. It counts." I could tell that he still wasn't sure what I was talking about. I told him that I think he is lying to himself and not really facing up to the things he's really doing wrong. This part was more heated and argumentative then I can convey, but basically he defended himself against everything. He really doesn't see all the damage he's done. He really doesn't understand how hurt I am and that he might never be able to repair the damage.

I told him that his TP thought he was a real risk for molesting his own kids if he had a chance. He vehemently defended himself on this one. I brought up a certain video that the DA had described at his sentencing last November in which a 3-year-old boy was basically being raped. This is one of the videos that Jake had downloaded and watched.

"If that is something you'd watch, then maybe it's something you'd do to your own child!"

"Or maybe I watched it because I remember being raped at that age and I was trying to figure that part of my childhood out."

"Well, maybe you're one of those people who figures it out by doing it to someone else." It was a cold thing to say, I know, but that's on my mind and I was being as open as possible for once.

It sort of sent him over the edge. He started ranting about the things he had to do for that farm hand, the things he endured as a small child (the same age as our Elise right now). He ended the rant with "I KNOW I'M A MIND FUCK! I KNOW I NEED HELP!"

I think I said something like, "I hope you'll get help. I've got to go back to work."

And I haven't talked to him since that.

Basically, that left me sure that I can't wait around for things to get better. Looking forward, I see this cycle repeating agian and again of victims coming forward, jail time, court time, lawyers, treatment, prison maybe, and then when things seem a little settled another victim comes forward. I've thought about asking Jake to just give law enforcement a list of names for all his victims so that maybe there will be an ending to this madness. But he would never do it.

So the next day when I was talking to my parents I said, "I think I've made my mind up that I'm ready to leave. Will you please look at the listings for farm houses in your area?" They tried to hide their relief that I finally FINALLY came to this conclusion.

I don't have a plan and it may take months before I can concoct one (I don't move quickly), but my heart has flipped and my mind is set. I'm leaving. I'm moving on.

So, do I love him? I still don't know! I must, since he causes me so much heartache. Or maybe I don't since it feels so good to think about leaving. I just don't know. 

Who's paying for all of this?

Welcome to the end of another long week. Yet again, I am playing catch-up with laundry, dirty dishes, and a long "to do" list. On the bright side, one of my big chores today is to put together all of Jake's bills, statements, checkbooks, and whatever else he needs so that he can take care of them by himself (imagine that). I feel like I'm shedding old skin as I create the pile to send to him. The only problem is I don't know how I will get it to him. The last time he was living with his parents it was strongly recommended that I not use my in-laws as messengers. I could drop it off with his PO, but I didn't really like the results of that last time . . . So I think I'll mail it, which is so weird because they live just two miles away (in the country where there is only one house every mile, that isn't very far!). The post office is going to think I'm crazy.

I've had to explain the new situation with several friends and family recently, so I think maybe I need to explain it here. Jake is out on bail for the current case against him (sexual assault against a minor). Last year's case (attempted sexual assault against a minor) ended with a sentence of 90 days in jail OR one year work release, either option being followed by ten years of sexual offender probation. He chose work release because it allows him to be out of jail twelve hours each day to earn an income. When he was arrested on the new charges, he was only a few months into his first sentence. Obviously, to be jailed for new charges meant that he couldn't exercise the work release option, so it reverted to a regular jail sentence. His first jail sentence is therefore served and all that is left is the ten years of probation. If you followed all that, you get a gold star!

His bail terms now are identical to his probation terms with the added security of an electric ankle monitor. Probation for a sex offender is much more intense than for any regular convict. I would even consider the probation to be more of a punishment than the jail-time. He is not allowed any contact with minors. He has VERY limited places he is allowed to go, approved by his PO and TP, and supposedly monitored by the anklet. I believe he has to call the local sheriff every time he arrives at a new location, too. He will attend treatment with a specially trained sex offender treatment provider (TP). He will have monthly "maintenance" polygraphs to make sure he is obeying the terms of his probation. He will also have one big "sex history" polygraph to set the foundation for his treatment and ensure that he hasn't done anything illegal. In preparation for the sex history polygraph he has to disclose all of his sexual activities (yes, I said ALL, legal and illegal from his entire life). That disclosure can be used in new investigations against him, which is likely how they found the accuser of the new charges.

Did I miss anything? The probation is pretty daunting, right? Well, eventually, a sex offender can work toward contact with his kids and other minor family members, if those people are receptive to it. And after a few years, with really good behavior, an offender can petition to be removed for the sex offender registry. So there is hope to someday lead a normal life. The problem is that the probation is very stringent for the sake of public safety and holds so much stigma that, in my mind at least, it adds more stress to the already injured psyche of the sex offender. More stress equals higher chances of offending. From what I can see, it's a lose-lose situation for the offender and our society. In fact, the legal system seems full of lose-lose situations. I don't know the answers, but I sure wish someone did.

Speaking of losing battles, the legal system is a financial trap for offenders and their families. After Jake's sentencing, when he was promptly jailed as part of his sentence, a bill arrived at his parents' house from the court. When I got a look at it, I was appalled. They sent Jake a bill for court, jail, and estimated probation costs that totaled more than $10,000 with a message at the bottom along the lines of "If you don't start making payments immediately, we will start adding fines." Um, they did realize that the man they were billing was in jail, right? That he wouldn't receive the bill? What a trap! So, of course, his dad started paying the bill. Then we found out that they don't actually supply anything for inmates beyond a set of clothes and food. Shoes, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and anything else must be purchased by the inmate. How do they purchase these things? Their families put money in an account with atrocious processing fees or it goes on some mysterious bill that will likely be sent to their home with an absurd message like above.

I can't wait to see the bill for the electric ankle monitor!

While I'm on the topic of money, let me explain how bonds work. Jake's bail was set at $100,000. If someone wanted to pay bail, they could give the court the full amount as a sort of assurance that Jake would appear in court without fail. At the end of a trial (and someone can correct me if I'm over simplifying this), the full bail amount will be returned to whoever it came from. Most people can't afford to set bail, so that's where a bondsman comes in. To get Jake's bail, his grandma paid 10% of the bail amount to a bondsman. The bondsman then posted the full bail to the court and now the burden is on the bondsman to assure that Jake goes to court. At the end of the trial, the bondsman will get all his money back AND he will keep the 10% that grandma paid him as a fee for services. Except for the occasional hiring of bounty hunters for those people who do flee, the bondsman gig is pretty cush!

Anyhow, Jake finally did get out on bail yesterday. I have more to say about that, but all this explaining now has me burnt out. I'll try to write more tomorrow. Back to laundry!

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?