How could you stay with someone like that? Wouldn't you know when you dated him that he just wasn't quite right?
I guess there were many reasons why we fall victim. We only look at the positive things, don't we? and ignore "bad" behaviors. He seemed to have it all; a loving family, 'things', and showered me and my two children with superficial affections. We had nothing. I would "date" him for years, not really knowing how psychologically impaired he truly was. He had many years before I came along at covering up, and I assume he got very good at it. I assumed he had been in prior relationships and hurt, so some things I let slide thinking them unimportant. My mom once said to me that leopards never change their spots, they just learn to camouflage better, and she was right.
Looking back, I figure his family was good at covering him up as well. I thought his mom and dad were good people. His dad worked for Ashland Oil, a big oil refinery, driving a truck for years. Their home was very nice. He lived with his parents, which I thought a little odd, but nobody seemed to mind, so I just accepted it as "normal?" They all seemed normal. I'm not so sure I knew what normal was, frankly. I was raised in an alcoholic household, with a father who abused my mother physically, however I don't remember that per se. I do remember walking on eggshells as a kid myself. I was glad to find a guy who did not drink and seemed genuinely interested in becoming a part of mine and my two children's lives at the time we needed support.
Were there signs of just how psycho he was? Yes, now that I look back at it. I do recall one particular incident while dating this guy wherein we went camping, and he got mad over something really insignificant and began screaming at my kids, ordering them to do something he wanted them to do, and then throwing stuff all around the campground. He was totally out of control, and I told him so. My kids were frightened and frankly so was I. I ordered him to take us all home at that point. He drove a van. On the way home, he would pass vehicles, driving erratically, and told me at one point, if I can't have you, nobody will ~ playing Russian Roulette at the wheel, jerking back over after passing cars and avoiding close encounters with oncoming cars. It was frightening. I don't know how long we had dated at that time, but I doubt if I spoke to him for a while afterwards.
I wanted nothing to do with that, however some time elapsed, he apologized for weeks and weeks on end, promised me the moon and stars I suppose, and even his mother called missing us. I would reluctantly give him another try, the biggest mistake of my life looking back. I didn't have a strong family bond or much of a relationship with my siblings, so him and his parents had become my family sort of. I fell victim to "having" instead of doing without. They showered us with things, things the kids needed. I was living in subsidized housing, taking classes, using Food Stamps and public assistance to get by. Instinctively, my children at first disliked him, kids have that sense about people don't they? Perhaps they tolerated him for me I suppose looking back at it now.
I often wonder where my life would have been should I have not traveled that road but instead chose a different path. All the pain and misery he has put us through, but that which I allowed him to do. He's sitting in that damn cell but I'm the guilty feeling one at this point.
Dating this man ...
I guess the only reason I dated this guy for so long was because of his family to a certain extent, and I certainly did not know how psychological impaired he really was. He got very good at cover up I guess. My mom once said to me that leopards never change their spots, they just learn to camouflage better, and she was right. Looking back, I figure his family was good at covering him up as well. I thought his mom and dad were good people. His dad worked for Ashland Oil, a big oil refinery, driving a truck for years. Their home was very, very nice. He lived with his parents, which I thought a little odd, but nobody seemed to mind, so I just accepted it as "normal?"
Were there signs of just how psycho he was? Yes, now that I look back at it. I can recall one particular incident while dating this guy wherein we went camping, and he got mad over something really insignificant and began screaming at my kids, ordering them to do something he wanted them to do, and then throwing stuff all around the campground. He was totally out of control, and I told him so. My kids were frightened and frankly so was I. I ordered him to take us all home at that point. He drove a van. On the way home, he would pass vehicles, driving erratically, and told me at one point, if I can't have you, nobody will ~ playing Russian Roulette at the wheel, jerking back over after passing cars and avoiding close encounters with oncoming cars. It was frightening. I don't know how long we had dated at that time, but I doubt if I spoke to him for a while afterwards.
I wanted nothing to do with that, however some time elapsed, he apologized for weeks and weeks on end, promised me the moon and stars I suppose, and even his mother called missing us. I would reluctantly give him another try, the biggest mistake of my life looking back. I didn't have a strong family bond or much of a relationship with my siblings, so him and his parents had become my family sort of. I fell victim to "having" instead of doing without. They showered us with things, things the kids needed. I was living in subsidized housing, taking classes, using Food Stamps and public assistance to get by.
I often wonder where my life would have been should I have not traveled that road but instead chose a different path. All the pain and misery he has put us through, but that which I allowed him to do. He's sitting in that damn cell but I'm the guilty feeling one at this point.
Were there signs of just how psycho he was? Yes, now that I look back at it. I can recall one particular incident while dating this guy wherein we went camping, and he got mad over something really insignificant and began screaming at my kids, ordering them to do something he wanted them to do, and then throwing stuff all around the campground. He was totally out of control, and I told him so. My kids were frightened and frankly so was I. I ordered him to take us all home at that point. He drove a van. On the way home, he would pass vehicles, driving erratically, and told me at one point, if I can't have you, nobody will ~ playing Russian Roulette at the wheel, jerking back over after passing cars and avoiding close encounters with oncoming cars. It was frightening. I don't know how long we had dated at that time, but I doubt if I spoke to him for a while afterwards.
I wanted nothing to do with that, however some time elapsed, he apologized for weeks and weeks on end, promised me the moon and stars I suppose, and even his mother called missing us. I would reluctantly give him another try, the biggest mistake of my life looking back. I didn't have a strong family bond or much of a relationship with my siblings, so him and his parents had become my family sort of. I fell victim to "having" instead of doing without. They showered us with things, things the kids needed. I was living in subsidized housing, taking classes, using Food Stamps and public assistance to get by.
I often wonder where my life would have been should I have not traveled that road but instead chose a different path. All the pain and misery he has put us through, but that which I allowed him to do. He's sitting in that damn cell but I'm the guilty feeling one at this point.
A chilling letter looking back dated May 6, 1982
(this was originally a handwritten on lined notebook paper with Be good written down the entire left margin side even around the holes, for a total of 34 times) Can't read it?
It reads ...
Jo,
Hi, How are you doing? As for me I still keep plugging along. Tonight is the first night I have watched a full program on TV since I started school. I have been putting the garden out and just piddling around the house here as you have down there except for going to school. I went to the laundry mat today and dried a couple of loads of clothes, but out side of that and one or two service calls, I have been a homebody.
When I say be good, I don't mean to accuse you of anything, it just means I hope you will as I have had a few bad times in the past as you know. I think that I value your word & honestly more than anybody I have ever dated if that means anything to you. I just have had a bad time in the past with people saying their honest but they are lying through "there" (ok a grammar misspell) teeth and you know I can't stand any lies of any kind whatsoever and I think that you are decent and a kind of person that understands that, and would NOT life to me under any circumstances and would tell me the truth whether it made me mad or whatever. OK JO???? So don't get defensive with me OK???????????????
Don't think I don't want to spend any time with you when me and Don comes down after the lumber because I would like to but there is so much to do in so little time, so don't get made OK??????? When I come home for good, which is around a month or less, we will spend some time together OK?????? I will let you go for now, so be good and no hot dates OK.
Your very good friend, BGO
(I thought it odd that he signed his whole name out)
It reads ...
Jo,
Hi, How are you doing? As for me I still keep plugging along. Tonight is the first night I have watched a full program on TV since I started school. I have been putting the garden out and just piddling around the house here as you have down there except for going to school. I went to the laundry mat today and dried a couple of loads of clothes, but out side of that and one or two service calls, I have been a homebody.
When I say be good, I don't mean to accuse you of anything, it just means I hope you will as I have had a few bad times in the past as you know. I think that I value your word & honestly more than anybody I have ever dated if that means anything to you. I just have had a bad time in the past with people saying their honest but they are lying through "there" (ok a grammar misspell) teeth and you know I can't stand any lies of any kind whatsoever and I think that you are decent and a kind of person that understands that, and would NOT life to me under any circumstances and would tell me the truth whether it made me mad or whatever. OK JO???? So don't get defensive with me OK???????????????
Don't think I don't want to spend any time with you when me and Don comes down after the lumber because I would like to but there is so much to do in so little time, so don't get made OK??????? When I come home for good, which is around a month or less, we will spend some time together OK?????? I will let you go for now, so be good and no hot dates OK.
Your very good friend, BGO
(I thought it odd that he signed his whole name out)
A Glimpse Back...
The back of the house on the ridge was almost totally glass and when you looked out, it was a kaleidoscope of blue sky and green foliage. It was beautiful in all seasons, especially in autumn. I miss that view, but I do not miss the house whose walls bled from the emotional wounds. Every once in a while, a bird would hit the glass with a thud. Most times it would be dazed and after a bit would fly off once again. My last year in that house I spent in a daze, and like that bird, I wished I could just fly away.
In the spring of 1997, I would be visited by a song sparrow, which I believed to be an omen, looking back, a sign of worse things to come but I didn't know it at the time. It had been a particularly rough few months, years actually. Adding to my stressors of divorce was the recent loss of my father and the loss of my daughter to a foster care system.
I worked an evening shift job at a local hospital after x-ray school in 1989, working as an x-ray tech at the local VA. He worked nights, so he was there with them alone in the evenings. We were building a house which would not be done completely for a couple more years, it was not a turn-key job. We lived in that house without walls or floors for what seemed like forever. My son after school would have to help his stepfather for hours on end, and he would get cursed at and verbally abused more often than not. Most of the drywalling in that house was done by them.
My now ex at the time would call me sometimes at work furious, acting out on the phone, I worried about the kids. My daughter spent a lot of time at his mom's next door. I tried to get all of us into counseling so we could better merge as a family unit, but he wouldn't hear of it. I didn't realize what he was putting my kids through at home while I worked. I eventually quit that job, not because I didn't love it, but I suffered a back injury in 1991.
My relationship with my son the last two years of his high school became strained to almost silence, and when he graduated high school in 1992 he went directly into the Marine Corps. He just wanted to get as far away as he could, but would come back somewhat broken two years later, and once again to fall prey to my husband's manipulative control.
By fall 1996, my daughter began to take her hurt and anger out on me, and at times we physically would get into it. I hated that. Looking back, I hate that I let him destroy not only my spirit and that of my children, but more importantly, break the hearts of my children in the process by staying with him for far too long. Raising teens was hard enough without any type of dysfunction. Why couldn't he be the parent he should have been? Why couldn't I have been a better mother?
Not only was she taking out her hurt physically on me, but she began staying away from home as much as she could, cutting school, nothing outrageously bad; in actuality most of it was typical teenage behaviors but it could lead to drugs, unprotected sex, and who knows what else. I worried myself sick over it. My attempts to diffuse any situation failed. Her stepfather was the type who could never see past the end of his nose. Nobody else mattered. We lived a world according to "Bob." Yes, that was his name, to this day even typing it makes me want to vomit. His assault on her and me for that matter was unrelenting to the point she wanted to be taken out of the home. God knows I wanted her to have some peace. I wanted her to be in a loving environment, not one of cold stares and harsh words, so I as her parent reluctantly involved the courts at his urging, and let them place her in a foster home. Why didn't I just leave too?
He got what he wanted, her gone, me broken. Looking back I see his control over all of us. It's hard to see that when you are in the midst of it. Sleep became my only comfort. He had that dirty little secret and for a nearly two years he was working on destroying her, destroying any sense of family. I saw her go from a beautiful freshman girl to an unhappy depressed teen who stayed in her room, and gained 30 pounds. She broke silence one day blurting it out in desperation when him and her were into a confrontation; I remember him going up the stairs after her towards her room. Oh God, I didn't want to believe it. Since my youngest's birth in 1992 and my father coming to live with us in 1993, I had a 24/7 job, so I stayed home instead of working. I grew to loathe this man I had married.
How was I to know that this saga would not end with my divorcing him, but merely begin in another haunting form with my youngest, sweetest, innocent baby. This is the vulnerable heart behind The Sparrow's Song. It is true that we see only what we want to see, even to the point of trying to bury the truth from ourselves.
In the spring of 1997, I would be visited by a song sparrow, which I believed to be an omen, looking back, a sign of worse things to come but I didn't know it at the time. It had been a particularly rough few months, years actually. Adding to my stressors of divorce was the recent loss of my father and the loss of my daughter to a foster care system.
I worked an evening shift job at a local hospital after x-ray school in 1989, working as an x-ray tech at the local VA. He worked nights, so he was there with them alone in the evenings. We were building a house which would not be done completely for a couple more years, it was not a turn-key job. We lived in that house without walls or floors for what seemed like forever. My son after school would have to help his stepfather for hours on end, and he would get cursed at and verbally abused more often than not. Most of the drywalling in that house was done by them.
My now ex at the time would call me sometimes at work furious, acting out on the phone, I worried about the kids. My daughter spent a lot of time at his mom's next door. I tried to get all of us into counseling so we could better merge as a family unit, but he wouldn't hear of it. I didn't realize what he was putting my kids through at home while I worked. I eventually quit that job, not because I didn't love it, but I suffered a back injury in 1991.
My relationship with my son the last two years of his high school became strained to almost silence, and when he graduated high school in 1992 he went directly into the Marine Corps. He just wanted to get as far away as he could, but would come back somewhat broken two years later, and once again to fall prey to my husband's manipulative control.
By fall 1996, my daughter began to take her hurt and anger out on me, and at times we physically would get into it. I hated that. Looking back, I hate that I let him destroy not only my spirit and that of my children, but more importantly, break the hearts of my children in the process by staying with him for far too long. Raising teens was hard enough without any type of dysfunction. Why couldn't he be the parent he should have been? Why couldn't I have been a better mother?
Not only was she taking out her hurt physically on me, but she began staying away from home as much as she could, cutting school, nothing outrageously bad; in actuality most of it was typical teenage behaviors but it could lead to drugs, unprotected sex, and who knows what else. I worried myself sick over it. My attempts to diffuse any situation failed. Her stepfather was the type who could never see past the end of his nose. Nobody else mattered. We lived a world according to "Bob." Yes, that was his name, to this day even typing it makes me want to vomit. His assault on her and me for that matter was unrelenting to the point she wanted to be taken out of the home. God knows I wanted her to have some peace. I wanted her to be in a loving environment, not one of cold stares and harsh words, so I as her parent reluctantly involved the courts at his urging, and let them place her in a foster home. Why didn't I just leave too?
He got what he wanted, her gone, me broken. Looking back I see his control over all of us. It's hard to see that when you are in the midst of it. Sleep became my only comfort. He had that dirty little secret and for a nearly two years he was working on destroying her, destroying any sense of family. I saw her go from a beautiful freshman girl to an unhappy depressed teen who stayed in her room, and gained 30 pounds. She broke silence one day blurting it out in desperation when him and her were into a confrontation; I remember him going up the stairs after her towards her room. Oh God, I didn't want to believe it. Since my youngest's birth in 1992 and my father coming to live with us in 1993, I had a 24/7 job, so I stayed home instead of working. I grew to loathe this man I had married.
How was I to know that this saga would not end with my divorcing him, but merely begin in another haunting form with my youngest, sweetest, innocent baby. This is the vulnerable heart behind The Sparrow's Song. It is true that we see only what we want to see, even to the point of trying to bury the truth from ourselves.
a glimpse back
The back of the house on the ridge was almost totally glass and when you looked out, it was a kaleidoscope of blue sky and green foliage. It was beautiful in all seasons, especially in autumn. I miss that view, but I do not miss the house whose walls bled from the emotional wounds. Every once in a while, a bird would hit the glass with a thud. Most times it would be dazed and after a bit would fly off once again. My last year in that house I spent in a daze, and like that bird, I wished I could just fly away.
In the spring of 1997, I would be visited by a song sparrow, which I believed to be an omen, looking back, a sign of worse things to come but I didn't know it at the time. It had been a particularly rough few months, years actually. Adding to my stressors of divorce was the recent loss of my father and the loss of my daughter to a foster care system.
I worked an evening shift job at a local hospital after x-ray school in 1989, working as an x-ray tech at the local VA. He worked nights, so he was there with them alone in the evenings. We were building a house which would not be done completely for a couple more years, it was not a turn-key job. We lived in that house without walls or floors for what seemed like forever. My son after school would have to help his stepfather for hours on end, and he would get cursed at and verbally abused more often than not. Most of the drywalling in that house was done by them.
My now ex at the time would call me sometimes at work furious, acting out on the phone, I worried about the kids. My daughter spent a lot of time at his mom's next door. I tried to get all of us into counseling so we could better merge as a family unit, but he wouldn't hear of it. I didn't realize what he was putting my kids through at home while I worked. I eventually quit that job, not because I didn't love it, but I suffered a back injury in 1991.
My relationship with my son the last two years of his high school became strained to almost silence, and when he graduated high school in 1992 he went directly into the Marine Corps. He just wanted to get as far away as he could, but would come back somewhat broken two years later, and once again to fall prey to my husband's manipulative control.
By fall 1996, my daughter began to take her hurt and anger out on me, and at times we physically would get into it. I hated that. Looking back, I hate that I let him destroy not only my spirit and that of my children, but more importantly, break the hearts of my children in the process by staying with him for far too long. Raising teens was hard enough without any type of dysfunction. Why couldn't he be the parent he should have been? Why couldn't I have been a better mother?
Not only was she taking out her hurt physically on me, but she began staying away from home as much as she could, cutting school, nothing outrageously bad; in actuality most of it was typical teenage behaviors but it could lead to drugs, unprotected sex, and who knows what else. I worried myself sick over it. My attempts to diffuse any situation failed. Her stepfather was the type who could never see past the end of his nose. Nobody else mattered. We lived a world according to "Bob." Yes, that was his name, to this day even typing it makes me want to vomit. His assault on her and me for that matter was unrelenting to the point she wanted to be taken out of the home. God knows I wanted her to have some peace. I wanted her to be in a loving environment, not one of cold stares and harsh words, so I as her parent reluctantly involved the courts at his urging, and let them place her in a foster home. Why didn't I just leave too?
He got what he wanted, her gone, me broken. Looking back I see his control over all of us. It's hard to see that when you are in the midst of it. Sleep became my only comfort. He had that dirty little secret and for a nearly two years he was working on destroying her, destroying any sense of family. I saw her go from a beautiful freshman girl to an unhappy depressed teen who stayed in her room, and gained 30 pounds. She broke silence one day blurting it out in desperation when him and her were into a confrontation; I remember him going up the stairs after her towards her room. Oh God, I didn't want to believe it. Since my youngest's birth in 1992 and my father coming to live with us in 1993, I had a 24/7 job, so I stayed home instead of working. I grew to loathe this man I had married.
How was I to know that this saga would not end with my divorcing him, but merely begin in another haunting form with my youngest, sweetest, innocent baby. This is the vulnerable heart behind The Sparrow's Song. It is true that we see only what we want to see, even to the point of trying to bury the truth from ourselves.
In the spring of 1997, I would be visited by a song sparrow, which I believed to be an omen, looking back, a sign of worse things to come but I didn't know it at the time. It had been a particularly rough few months, years actually. Adding to my stressors of divorce was the recent loss of my father and the loss of my daughter to a foster care system.
I worked an evening shift job at a local hospital after x-ray school in 1989, working as an x-ray tech at the local VA. He worked nights, so he was there with them alone in the evenings. We were building a house which would not be done completely for a couple more years, it was not a turn-key job. We lived in that house without walls or floors for what seemed like forever. My son after school would have to help his stepfather for hours on end, and he would get cursed at and verbally abused more often than not. Most of the drywalling in that house was done by them.
My now ex at the time would call me sometimes at work furious, acting out on the phone, I worried about the kids. My daughter spent a lot of time at his mom's next door. I tried to get all of us into counseling so we could better merge as a family unit, but he wouldn't hear of it. I didn't realize what he was putting my kids through at home while I worked. I eventually quit that job, not because I didn't love it, but I suffered a back injury in 1991.
My relationship with my son the last two years of his high school became strained to almost silence, and when he graduated high school in 1992 he went directly into the Marine Corps. He just wanted to get as far away as he could, but would come back somewhat broken two years later, and once again to fall prey to my husband's manipulative control.
By fall 1996, my daughter began to take her hurt and anger out on me, and at times we physically would get into it. I hated that. Looking back, I hate that I let him destroy not only my spirit and that of my children, but more importantly, break the hearts of my children in the process by staying with him for far too long. Raising teens was hard enough without any type of dysfunction. Why couldn't he be the parent he should have been? Why couldn't I have been a better mother?
Not only was she taking out her hurt physically on me, but she began staying away from home as much as she could, cutting school, nothing outrageously bad; in actuality most of it was typical teenage behaviors but it could lead to drugs, unprotected sex, and who knows what else. I worried myself sick over it. My attempts to diffuse any situation failed. Her stepfather was the type who could never see past the end of his nose. Nobody else mattered. We lived a world according to "Bob." Yes, that was his name, to this day even typing it makes me want to vomit. His assault on her and me for that matter was unrelenting to the point she wanted to be taken out of the home. God knows I wanted her to have some peace. I wanted her to be in a loving environment, not one of cold stares and harsh words, so I as her parent reluctantly involved the courts at his urging, and let them place her in a foster home. Why didn't I just leave too?
He got what he wanted, her gone, me broken. Looking back I see his control over all of us. It's hard to see that when you are in the midst of it. Sleep became my only comfort. He had that dirty little secret and for a nearly two years he was working on destroying her, destroying any sense of family. I saw her go from a beautiful freshman girl to an unhappy depressed teen who stayed in her room, and gained 30 pounds. She broke silence one day blurting it out in desperation when him and her were into a confrontation; I remember him going up the stairs after her towards her room. Oh God, I didn't want to believe it. Since my youngest's birth in 1992 and my father coming to live with us in 1993, I had a 24/7 job, so I stayed home instead of working. I grew to loathe this man I had married.
How was I to know that this saga would not end with my divorcing him, but merely begin in another haunting form with my youngest, sweetest, innocent baby. This is the vulnerable heart behind The Sparrow's Song. It is true that we see only what we want to see, even to the point of trying to bury the truth from ourselves.
assorted notes, journals, and legal papers
I have quite an assortment of journals, notebooks, legal papers from which to reconstruct this story. I also have access to the courthouse for records should I want to dive into the legal details as well. I remember being at his mother's house who lived nextdoor, and laying on the table was a notebook wherein she was writing about me, and my kids? ... it broke my heart to know that she would do that to me after all the years I loved her and made her my family.
I wonder what is in that vault of storage that he has written down by him and by others in his family. I would love to get my hands on a copy of it all.
Just the other day, I was reading excerpts from a notebook I kept. I wasn't strong enough to even start a divorce process back when I filed, and to read back over this stuff drudges up a lot of emotion. I have to quit right now, as I have a teenager who does not want to get up for school and it is 10 minutes after 7. She is going to be late for school.
I wonder what is in that vault of storage that he has written down by him and by others in his family. I would love to get my hands on a copy of it all.
Just the other day, I was reading excerpts from a notebook I kept. I wasn't strong enough to even start a divorce process back when I filed, and to read back over this stuff drudges up a lot of emotion. I have to quit right now, as I have a teenager who does not want to get up for school and it is 10 minutes after 7. She is going to be late for school.
A New Chapter of The Sparrow's Song...
I have tried writing this story, but I found it too difficult to do at times. After all these years, it still brings me to tears. I erased it. I tried to erase a lot of things out of my memory, but some things just won't be. Funny how things nag at you for years, and compel you finally to confront and deal with them. For too long I ignored, ignored, ignored. I often ask myself why, why didn't I fight harder, be more resourceful, stop at nothing to ensure her emotional well being? I don't have an answer for that. I was beaten down. I was a coward.
Today, it was strange to be sitting in Dr. Fisher's office on the same couch I had sat nearly five years earlier, only the circumstances were now different. Back then, I had resigned myself to the fact that my baby girl had a new stepmother who would love and protect her when I couldn't due to the fact that her father was controlling and manipulative. I would have to concede for her sake, as I always did, as he was hellbent on destroying any relationship I had with her. She was my baby. I was never the one who wanted to fight, but I knew he would crush her fragile tender heart, and continue his mindgames till he destroyed her psyche as well. I hoped that counseling would help us all, especially empower my own daughter when it came to her father.
At that particular juncture, five years, ago he had filed to take away my joint custodial rights as her parent, and for what reason? There was no credible reason, only the reasons he invented by having an angry child write out things on paper about her mother. This was a child who really wanted to be with her mother but was lashing out because of jealousy over a granddaughter whom I spent more time with than her because of the way things were. He had her write things like mom has men over at night (total lie) or there is no food in the refrigerator (another lie), and I think even something to the effect that I didn't even have a refrigerator, and a few more I can't recall at the moment, and had her do them in her own handwriting over & over until he got what he wanted, and took them into a lawyer's office? I know it's nuts ...He would continue to use this child as his weapon of hatred against me.
A couple of weeks ago, escorted by a State Trooper and a social worker, myself and my daughter entered his residence so she could get some of her things as she was going to live with me. The first thing out of his mouth was, "I don't want her in my home"... referring to me of course. I never realized how much this man absolutely hates me, obviously still does even though we had divorced 11 years earlier. As karma would have it, he sits now in jail awaiting trial in January 2009. Funny how things work out, huh?
I remember Dr. Fisher reciting the story of King Solomon and the two women who were fighting over a child, and he ordered the baby cut in half, but the real mother said, "No, let her take the child." ... which I did, not that I didn't see her anymore, but somebody else knew what he was doing and through counseling I learned to let go and free myself of his manipulation. Yes, I will never comprehend why he would inflict such emotional damage upon this child at such a young age, or fathom why he would continue to do so even with my attempts at empowering all of us through counseling. Presently, my daughter and I are back in counseling having to deal with past haunts as they come up, as well as cope with issues in the here and now.
One good thing is that at this time, his reign of terror is over, and a new chapter has begun. I always told him he might win the battles, but I would eventually win the war. Love is always stronger than hate. My daughter is finally home with her mother where she has belonged all these years. In the words of my eldest son, "it's about time, Mom." The Sparrow's Song is a true story of actual facts & events from the past, and the present, and hopefully by writing about it I can close the door to my past and embrace the future with my baby girl; our family now complete.
so appropriately titled, as I begin again ...
I have tried writing this, but I found it too difficult to do at times. After many years, it would still bring me to tears. I erased it. I tried to erase a lot of things out of my memory, but some things just won't be. Funny how things nag at you for years, and compel you finally to confront and deal with them. For too long I ignored, ignored, ignored. I often ask myself why, why didn't I fight harder, be more resourceful, stop at nothing to ensure her emotional well being? I don't have an answer for that. I was beaten down. I was a coward.
Today, it was strange to be sitting in Dr. Fisher's office on the same couch I had sat nearly five years earlier, only the circumstances were now different. Back then, I had resigned myself to the fact that my baby girl had a new stepmother who would love and protect her when I couldn't due to the fact that her father was controlling and manipulative. I would have to concede for her sake, as I always did, as he was hellbent on destroying any relationship I had with her. She was my baby. I was never the one who wanted to fight, but I knew he would crush her fragile tender heart, and continue his mindgames till he destroyed her psyche as well. I hoped that counseling would help us all, especially empower my own daughter when it came to her father.
At this particular juncture he had filed to take away my joint custodial rights as her parent, and for what reason? There was no credible reason, only the reasons he invented by having an angry child write out things on paper about her mother. This was a child who really wanted to be with her mother but was lashing out because of jealousy over a granddaughter whom I spent more time with than her because of the way things were. He had her write things like mom has men over at night (total lie) or there is no food in the refrigerator (another lie), and I think even something to the effect that I didn't even have a refrigerator, and a few more I can't recall at the moment, and had her do them in her own handwriting over & over until he got what he wanted, and took them into a lawyer's office? I know it's nuts ... He would continue to use this child as his weapon of hatred against me.
A couple of weeks ago, escorted by a State Trooper and a social worker, myself and my daughter entered his residence so she could get some of her things as she was going to live with me. The first thing out of his mouth was, "I don't want her in my home"... referring to me of course. I never realized how much this man absolutely hates me, obviously still does even though we had divorced 11 years ago. As karma would have it, he sits now in jail awaiting trial in January 2009. Funny how things work out, huh?
I remember Dr. Fisher reciting the story of King Solomon and the two women who were fighting over a child, and he ordered the baby cut in half, but the real mother said, "No, let her take the child." ... which I did, not that I didn't see her anymore, but somebody else knew what he was doing and through counseling I learned to let go and free myself of his manipulation. Yes, I will never comprehend why he would inflict such emotional damage upon this child at such a young age, or fathom why he would continue to do so even with my attempts at empowering all of us through counseling. Presently, my daughter and I are back in counseling having to deal with past haunts as they come up, as well as cope with issues in the here and now.
One good thing is that at this time, his reign of terror is over, and a new chapter has begun. I always told him he might win the battles, but I would eventually win the war. Love is always stronger than hate. My daughter is finally home with her mother where she has belonged all these years. In the words of my eldest son, "it's about time, Mom." The Sparrow's Song is a true story of actual facts & events from the past, and the present, and hopefully by writing about it I can close the door to my past and embrace the future with my baby girl; our family now complete.
Today, it was strange to be sitting in Dr. Fisher's office on the same couch I had sat nearly five years earlier, only the circumstances were now different. Back then, I had resigned myself to the fact that my baby girl had a new stepmother who would love and protect her when I couldn't due to the fact that her father was controlling and manipulative. I would have to concede for her sake, as I always did, as he was hellbent on destroying any relationship I had with her. She was my baby. I was never the one who wanted to fight, but I knew he would crush her fragile tender heart, and continue his mindgames till he destroyed her psyche as well. I hoped that counseling would help us all, especially empower my own daughter when it came to her father.
At this particular juncture he had filed to take away my joint custodial rights as her parent, and for what reason? There was no credible reason, only the reasons he invented by having an angry child write out things on paper about her mother. This was a child who really wanted to be with her mother but was lashing out because of jealousy over a granddaughter whom I spent more time with than her because of the way things were. He had her write things like mom has men over at night (total lie) or there is no food in the refrigerator (another lie), and I think even something to the effect that I didn't even have a refrigerator, and a few more I can't recall at the moment, and had her do them in her own handwriting over & over until he got what he wanted, and took them into a lawyer's office? I know it's nuts ... He would continue to use this child as his weapon of hatred against me.
A couple of weeks ago, escorted by a State Trooper and a social worker, myself and my daughter entered his residence so she could get some of her things as she was going to live with me. The first thing out of his mouth was, "I don't want her in my home"... referring to me of course. I never realized how much this man absolutely hates me, obviously still does even though we had divorced 11 years ago. As karma would have it, he sits now in jail awaiting trial in January 2009. Funny how things work out, huh?
I remember Dr. Fisher reciting the story of King Solomon and the two women who were fighting over a child, and he ordered the baby cut in half, but the real mother said, "No, let her take the child." ... which I did, not that I didn't see her anymore, but somebody else knew what he was doing and through counseling I learned to let go and free myself of his manipulation. Yes, I will never comprehend why he would inflict such emotional damage upon this child at such a young age, or fathom why he would continue to do so even with my attempts at empowering all of us through counseling. Presently, my daughter and I are back in counseling having to deal with past haunts as they come up, as well as cope with issues in the here and now.
One good thing is that at this time, his reign of terror is over, and a new chapter has begun. I always told him he might win the battles, but I would eventually win the war. Love is always stronger than hate. My daughter is finally home with her mother where she has belonged all these years. In the words of my eldest son, "it's about time, Mom." The Sparrow's Song is a true story of actual facts & events from the past, and the present, and hopefully by writing about it I can close the door to my past and embrace the future with my baby girl; our family now complete.
Sunday, March 9, 1997
Bobbi went to Sunday school with Micah. I had a flat tire. Told Dick the car needed repairs. Never got a call from Bob.
Wednesday, March 5, 1997
Took Bobbi to the doctor for a recheck. Gave Dick receipts. She is still ill and on a new round of antibiotics. Bob has no insurance coverage until the middle of April.
Thursday, March 6, 1997
Took Bobbi to see "Mimmy" (his mother Jean) at the hospital. She was rude to me. Denied that Bobbi was happier since the tension (Bob) left.
Bobbi goes up to see her daddy from 7 to 8. Refused him an overnight visit because of my fear of her "unexplained irritated bottom" and bathttime was at 8, and then bedtime. She was sick.
Dick has been stopping by every day. He never did that when Bob was here.
Bobbi goes up to see her daddy from 7 to 8. Refused him an overnight visit because of my fear of her "unexplained irritated bottom" and bathttime was at 8, and then bedtime. She was sick.
Dick has been stopping by every day. He never did that when Bob was here.
March 4, 1997 Tuesday
When Bob left on the 1st there was no money in the checking account. He left me absolutely nothing. Herman signed me a check. He just got our $4500.00 income tax check. All Bob gave me cash was $16 bucks. It was not unusual for Herman & Jean to buy us groceries when we were married. I considered the check from Herman and Jean a gift.
Monday, March 3, 1997
Early a.m. I was told that Herman had Brian's license and was going to call the law since he had not gotten the truck payment yet. They were just being mean.
Sunday, March 2, 1997
Nobody in his family came to Bobbi's 5th birthday party. Her daddy never came either. 11 kids & their parents did. His family had their own thing after her real party.
Saturday, March 1, 1997
I got an EPO.
Herman, Bob's Dad, demanded Brian's truck payment from me. Jean in the hospital.
Herman, Bob's Dad, demanded Brian's truck payment from me. Jean in the hospital.
Friday, February 28, 1997
I had to change time of the party because Bob bitched .... He refused to pick up the cake. I had to beg for money for buy Bobbi a gift. He refused to open up his safe in front of me ...
When Bob left, he knew the car needed repairs ... He's put 600 miles a week on my car over a 2-year period driving back and forths to West Liberty to work at the prison down there.
When Bob left, he knew the car needed repairs ... He's put 600 miles a week on my car over a 2-year period driving back and forths to West Liberty to work at the prison down there.
Wednesday, February 26, 1997
Bob didn't want my mother to come. I told him that was her grandchild too. He thinks only him and his family have an exclusive. Went on about what a poor grandmother she was ... said he hated her. Said he wasn't coming ... said if he did and mom got in his face, he had a few things to say to "that bitch." I told him he should be an adult -- it's Bobbi's birthday party for God's sakes.
Tuesday, February 25, 1997
Talked to Bob/Jean about making plans for Bobbi's birthday, coming up March 2nd. I was left to do it all so I made plans to have it at Billy Bob's.
Monday, February 24th 1997
Bob threatened me by using Rae & Brian against me to take Bobbi Jo. After all the abuse they suffered mentally --he claims no wrongdoing or very little--
It was his idea to pursue courts with Rae. He asked me straight out to sign Bobbi over -- said it wouldn't mean a thing. Told me things would get nasty; said he saw three different laywers; said he was gonna file he's got his evidence.
It was his idea to pursue courts with Rae. He asked me straight out to sign Bobbi over -- said it wouldn't mean a thing. Told me things would get nasty; said he saw three different laywers; said he was gonna file he's got his evidence.
Back Home Once Again ...
Saturday, 20th, I went to Morehead and brought Bobbi Jo home once more, this time hoping a few more days at Walker House would wake her up and spark her into action. At least her absences were not counted against her. I had picked up her schoolbooks and work and took them to her. Today is Wednesday, and even though she went to school Monday and Tuesday, today she took a nosedive again, and didn't want to go. We saw John Fisher this morning as he had an opening, and also Dr. Khan had an opening as well and she got into see him about starting meds. She will be taking her first dose of Remeron tonight, which is an antidepressant. When we got back home from her counseling session with John she was supposed to change her clothes and go to school, she just put off getting dressed, did not want to go to school at all despite my efforts at reprimanding her to get ready.
John has agreed to take her under his wing for a while and try to get her straightened out. He doesn't see counseling right away but more importantly realizes the need for psychiatric help, not just a counseling session. Also he is going to arrange some testing for her. The goal is to get her functioning at level which she can be proud of herself and productive. This morning she just got up stood at her dresser in the dark, arranging her stuff, I was not fully convinced she was even awake, but only sleepwalking or something. I don't know if she got up during the night and was obsessing with her things in her room or just not sleeping. Anyway, being on Remeron should help her.
Also I finally got told that a bus could pick Bobbi up at Rose Hill, so that will cut my drive time down by half. YAY! Now getting her actually get out the door by 20 till 7? yeah, right ...
John has agreed to take her under his wing for a while and try to get her straightened out. He doesn't see counseling right away but more importantly realizes the need for psychiatric help, not just a counseling session. Also he is going to arrange some testing for her. The goal is to get her functioning at level which she can be proud of herself and productive. This morning she just got up stood at her dresser in the dark, arranging her stuff, I was not fully convinced she was even awake, but only sleepwalking or something. I don't know if she got up during the night and was obsessing with her things in her room or just not sleeping. Anyway, being on Remeron should help her.
Also I finally got told that a bus could pick Bobbi up at Rose Hill, so that will cut my drive time down by half. YAY! Now getting her actually get out the door by 20 till 7? yeah, right ...
Back to Walker House
Since she was supposed to go to school yesterday Tuesday and did not, she was taken back to the Walker House in Morehead. Monday upon her release from there, I kept thinking it was too soon, but they wanted me to "trust Bobbi" when she said she was going to school. I told them what she would do, as I had already tried that option with her.
She just laid in bed and did not even try to get ready for school.
I went to Walker House today (Wednesday) after having been to Open House at Boyd Co. High School, met her teachers, and talked with them. I got her books and assignments for her to catch up on stuff. Hopefully Bobbi will want to go back to school, or otherwise homebound is the only option.
She just laid in bed and did not even try to get ready for school.
I went to Walker House today (Wednesday) after having been to Open House at Boyd Co. High School, met her teachers, and talked with them. I got her books and assignments for her to catch up on stuff. Hopefully Bobbi will want to go back to school, or otherwise homebound is the only option.
Monday the 15th of Sept
Bobbi has been in Morehead for 4 days, and after discussing a treatment plan she is home once again. She was acting out pretty bad this evening over any little thing, being rude. She says it is because of my attitude. She got me angry with her remarks and such, kicking newspaper all around the livingroom floor, throwing pennies around, even threw the phone behind my work desk here. She was asked to take her things and put them away, but they are still in the living room floor at this time. She stated the dishes only to quit, but finally finished them an hour later. When asked to do simple things she didn't respond; such as my instruction to her that I was going around the house to open the lid of the trash can, and she was to bring the bags out to the deck and drop them in. Once I arrived out back there she was not even outside, and I hollered, and came back inside and here she sat at the computer, and didn't even remember my telling her this. Also, after her tantrums and misbehaviors, she still wanted me to take her to the tanning bed, and I told her if she could get up without issue and get to school, not act out, I would consider taking her tomorrow before the Open House at BCHS.
What does she do? Have her sister take her. I was upset about it. Bobbi did this behind my back, and obviously did not even remember my telling her not to.
I am starting to think that bringing her home was not the best idea. However, at least a treatment plan has started. She will be seeing Dr. Fisher, as a psychiatrist, Dr. Khan for meds, and a counselor, and IMPACT.
What does she do? Have her sister take her. I was upset about it. Bobbi did this behind my back, and obviously did not even remember my telling her not to.
I am starting to think that bringing her home was not the best idea. However, at least a treatment plan has started. She will be seeing Dr. Fisher, as a psychiatrist, Dr. Khan for meds, and a counselor, and IMPACT.
Sunday afternoon
I talked to Walker House counselor today, Susan. She said that Bobbi definitely needed homebound and therapy with a psychiatrist. She said she would start the homebound process for us. I took Bobbi there Friday evening, after seeing a crisis lady at 22nd and Greenup. I have an appt tomorrow at the KSP post early morning and then an appt at Walker House in Morehead at 1 p.m.
Broke and Disgusted ...
Have you ever been so broke, that even at Christmas time all you could exchange were glances?
Just in case you don't know you're broke ....
listen up ...
here are some ways to tell…
At KFC you lick other people’s fingers.
If you wanted to rub two nickels together you’d have to borrow one.
At communion you go back for seconds. (are they kidding? I've never been to one of those!)
You think of a lottery ticket as an investment. (I can't afford a lottery ticket!)
You’re formulating a plan to rob the food bank.
Long distance companies don’t call you to switch.
If you stopped on a dime, you’d probably owe it to someone.
McDonald’s is the supplier of all your kitchen condiments. Now that's funny NOT~! I think I have some pancake syrup and honey mustard here somewhere!!!
Your idea of a 7-course meal is taking a deep breath outside a restaurant. huh??
You give blood everyday… just for the orange juice and cookie. (I have to say I have NEVER done this, have you?)
haha didya get a giggle? I did...
Just in case you don't know you're broke ....
listen up ...
here are some ways to tell…
At KFC you lick other people’s fingers.
If you wanted to rub two nickels together you’d have to borrow one.
At communion you go back for seconds. (are they kidding? I've never been to one of those!)
You think of a lottery ticket as an investment. (I can't afford a lottery ticket!)
You’re formulating a plan to rob the food bank.
Long distance companies don’t call you to switch.
If you stopped on a dime, you’d probably owe it to someone.
McDonald’s is the supplier of all your kitchen condiments. Now that's funny NOT~! I think I have some pancake syrup and honey mustard here somewhere!!!
Your idea of a 7-course meal is taking a deep breath outside a restaurant. huh??
You give blood everyday… just for the orange juice and cookie. (I have to say I have NEVER done this, have you?)
haha didya get a giggle? I did...
Thursday morning
Bobbi had a meltdown, would not get out of the car, called Social Worker. Kim was here. Asked Bobbi some questions. Was talking home bound at this point as I could not get her to go to Paul Blazer. She felt threatened with detention and although she was not really defiant, she was just having too much anxiety about Blazer. I took her in to see my doctor at 4:15 as a work-in, and she was making a recommendation to a doctor in Huntington for Bobbi. Doctor said she did not feel comfortable with meds at this point, as most antidepressants were black-boxed, meaning that they were not safe and potentially could cause suicide. She agreed to homebound, but only for a few weeks. After arriving home, Bobbi and I discussed the pros and cons of staying homebound; she said she really missed her friends and wanted to go back to Boyd County. I told her that indeed if she wanted the support of friends with homebound she would miss the interaction, so we decided to put her back in Boyd County Schools, and were there bright and early Monday morning ready to go. I wanted her to do this Friday, but she refused.
Friday morning I had a consultation at a lawyer's office in Catlettsburg, which my friend Susie accompanied me on, as I could not afford the 800 bucks Rhonda wanted, and I have to go back Monday to Shields. I had called Boyd County earlier and inquired about getting her back in, and had to talk to Rick Griffith and talk to the Registar, Ms. Virgin. I went to Paul Blazer in the afternoon to withdraw her, and I no sooner get back then two ladies come to talk to me about Bobbi's absences. I didn't know they needed actual written excuses with all the stress I figured a phone call was enough. Anyway, in the mail came a truancy thing as well. Gosh I didn't know there was such staunch regulations in place over all this. After these ladies came, I went back to Blazer to talk to the attendance officer, and wrote out personal notes for a few days. I didn't have a doctor's excuse for Friday since my doctor's office closed at noon, and there was a few in there that were unexcused? She was there for a full day Thursday. I was confused. I have the paperwork here and I guess Bobbi failed to give them any written note from her orthopedist and/or her counselor, Carol. This mess has to be cleaned up first thing Monday.
Friday morning I had a consultation at a lawyer's office in Catlettsburg, which my friend Susie accompanied me on, as I could not afford the 800 bucks Rhonda wanted, and I have to go back Monday to Shields. I had called Boyd County earlier and inquired about getting her back in, and had to talk to Rick Griffith and talk to the Registar, Ms. Virgin. I went to Paul Blazer in the afternoon to withdraw her, and I no sooner get back then two ladies come to talk to me about Bobbi's absences. I didn't know they needed actual written excuses with all the stress I figured a phone call was enough. Anyway, in the mail came a truancy thing as well. Gosh I didn't know there was such staunch regulations in place over all this. After these ladies came, I went back to Blazer to talk to the attendance officer, and wrote out personal notes for a few days. I didn't have a doctor's excuse for Friday since my doctor's office closed at noon, and there was a few in there that were unexcused? She was there for a full day Thursday. I was confused. I have the paperwork here and I guess Bobbi failed to give them any written note from her orthopedist and/or her counselor, Carol. This mess has to be cleaned up first thing Monday.
what happened? where am I?
I feel dazed and confused. Labor Day weekend has come and gone. Bobbi went to the mall, hung out with family, had a pretty good weekend, however still not wanting to socially interact with kids her age.
She was ill Tuesday morning, felt feverish, had abdominal cramps, didn't feel good wanted to stay home. She had already missed Friday due to personal reasons. Wednesday comes and she is still not in school. She also talked to a counselor at the Crisis Pathways Center.
She was ill Tuesday morning, felt feverish, had abdominal cramps, didn't feel good wanted to stay home. She had already missed Friday due to personal reasons. Wednesday comes and she is still not in school. She also talked to a counselor at the Crisis Pathways Center.
4 p.m. Monday
We just drove back from Wal-Mart after getting our hair done at the salon, and on the way into Ashland, Dick had called. Like I said Bobbi was surprised that he was even in Ashland, as was I, since he has not called one time, not one time since Bob was incarcerated in jail to find out she is doing. Bobbi Jo asked him if he had talked to her Dad, and he said yes, and she proceeded to tell him how disgusted she was, and asked Dick how it felt to be the brother of a rapist? She told him she wanted to sit in court and watch it. Dick told her that he had a lawyer and obviously tried to lessen the impact of all of this. Bobbi was not impressed. She told him that he lived in Florida, and he had no idea what has happened over the last few years at that house. She just wanted to get off the phone with him. This needs to stop. I knew that talking to Dick would only add to her anxiety over all this stuff. After all, he is the brother of a man on trial for sex crimes against children for God's sakes. You think Uncle Dick might be concerned that his brother could have done this to his own daughter? and as far as Sandy, same thing. She told me she was going to talk to Bob in jail about Dick and his "taking over". You think she had divorced herself of the situation, but obviously not as she was up there in court when Bob was supposedly arraigned. These two people are still toxic for Bobbi, and I am going to ask that they be cut off from contact with me or Bobbi, or any one in my immediate family.
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