Monday, May 12, 2014

The Wizard of Oz: or How to protect yourself from the machinations of a controlling (or abusive, or manipulative, or just a plain old not so nice Ex)



One thing that has taken me years to learn is to “disengage” from my former spouse—which is harder to do when co-parenting and there has to be some regular form of communication.  Especially when dealing with someone who likes to have “control,” and I can only really speak to my own experience of having been married to someone who is product of a cycle of domestic violence, an adult child of an alcoholic, and while we are the masters of our destinies in some ways (I know people who have come from violent households and do not repeat the violence in their own nuclear families), in my case, he did not heal from it.

So I learned that when the “control” is lost—through divorce, protections from the courts, clear and concise and detailed directions from the judge—the person who used to have so much control, will take steps, in whatever venue he or she has available to them.  Sometimes it will be through small, targeted, mean-spirited comments with the children; this is when I found it necessary to have a play therapist involved, especially because my girls are small.  Other times, it will be exerting influence with neutral, third party people involved with your family, convincing them that you (I) are the liar, manipulator, mean person.  And sometimes, it will be targeted directly to you, with biting commentary, accusatory comments, insinuating that you have done something wrong.

Here is what I learned:
Negative Commentary, directly or indirectly about you to the children:  in the instances with negative commentary to my children from my ex, I can address the commentary, but in very basic terms, and without engaging in a power struggle.  i.e. my oldest child told me:  “Daddy says he’s poor, because he gives all his money to you.”  Rather than say, “that’s not true!” (because the kids love both parents, it just confuses them and engages in a power struggle of what’s true or not), I’ve learned to reply, “I’m sorry daddy said that to you,” or “I’m sorry daddy feels like he doesn’t make enough money.”  Inside you may be thinking:  what a crock of horse-sh*+!  He drives around in his fancy truck, he spends money on all of this or that, I spend way more money on taking care of the kids—but do your best to halt that internal commentary.  It doesn’t matter.  You can’t control what your ex will say to the kids, period.  Even if I could tell him to stop it, he wouldn’t listen to me.  So, we can only help our children deal with it in the terms of how to be supportive and listening, and yet disengage and gently reassure them.  i.e. saying “I’m sorry daddy feels that way,” validates our children’s feelings, that they are worried about their dad, and at the same time, does not put them in the middle.  (i.e. if you say, no he doesn’t!  then they are left wondering—who is telling me the truth?)  They will grow up and figure it out.  And honestly, small children do not need to be worrying about money. 

Along those lines, it is not my children’s responsibility to “take care” of my ex, or of course, me.  Should they be worrying about dad’s money?  Furthermore, should they be worrying about mine?  Or any “adult” problem at the moment?  Most likely not—they should be concerning themselves with figuring out who they are, learning at school, playing with their friends, etc. etc.  I am speaking of my own girls, DD1 is in elementary school, DD2 is in preschool, so thinking age appropriate awareness of “adult” issues is less at this age than middle school and high school.  Anyway, re: this particular commentary to my kids and how to handle it—I got this great advice from our play therapist.  Because of the nature of our divorce (abusive behavior), having a play therapist who understands the cycle of domestic violence, and also understands that children love their parents, pretty much regardless of what they do, has been immensely helpful.  I am so fortunate that currently, my kids are doing well and we got out early enough that I do not see lasting scars, no PTSD for them, thank goodness, and I know some families aren’t so lucky.  And at the same time, I feel comforted that there is an extra set of eyes and ears for my children, that if something ever did come up from dad’s house (please, no!), it would hopefully show up and then be addressed in play therapy.

Influencing Neutral, Third Party Persons involved with your family:  It’s hard to swallow this one at first, but there’s not much you can do about someone who is negative campaigning about you.  In my case, there was a pre school teacher involved who seemed sympathetic to my situation (the school had to be notified about the TRO), and very supportive, but in the end, she was called as a witness for my ex-husband in court.  The thing is--my ex husband would never dare act violently in public, so the school would never have a concerning thing to say about him.  All of his actions happened in secret, behind closed doors, so no one would see except for us, and on occasions, his brother and mother.  And for years I went along with it, because I was too embarrassed, and also didn’t want to believe any of it was happening in the first place.  I was both in denial and desperate to hold onto the “good” times of our family, wishing with all my heart the terrorizing times would disappear.  After a year of litigation, this same pre school teacher turned cold with me, one of my witnesses saw her joking and laughing with my ex-husband and his family at the court house, and the high profile, wealthy family that also goes to preschool with my DD2, and for whom this same pre-school teacher works for, began giving me the cold shoulder at every school/social event, i.e. prior to this pre school teacher’s involvement with my ex—this family was generous with invitations to their birthday/Christmas parties, etc. etc., and then following the trial, barely a civil hello.  Could it be related?  That he negative campaigned against me enough that this affected my relationship with the preschool teacher and this family?  Perhaps.  Is there anything I can do about it?  Nope.

Here is advice that I found helpful and took me a long time to get used to:  you know your truth.  You know what you lived through.  The people who matter, will believe you.  Everyone else, well, they are just random comets passing through your solar system, and you hope they will pass you and leave you alone.  Build your own shields to protect you from cold looks, thoughtless comments, and don’t engage.  A thick skin goes a long way—because the truth is, with people who may be judging you along the lines of your ex, you cannot convince them otherwise.  And nor should you have to.  Just be you.  Take care of your kids.  Love them.  Take care of yourself and love yourself.  And of course it stings at first—we are all social human beings, we want people to understand us, even like us, and when they don’t…it can sting.

If there are professionals involved with your case, i.e. the play therapist or a mediator or co-parenting counselor, continue to stick to the facts, remain truthful, be a broken record if you have to.  You know the truth.  Your ex may be saying all kinds of things about you, and you may learn more of what he says in these forums, but only you know yourself and your children the best—and only you can be the one to protect your kids.  No one else will advocate for your children, only you.  These professionals will believe you, or not.  They are trained to stay neutral.  In domestic violence cases especially, be mindful of who has training around the cycle of violence and who does not.  As long as you, your children, your privacy, your health and safety and that of your kids are protected, all else is just noise.   And if it turns out that a professional shows bias in any matter against you, do yourself the biggest favor by advocating for someone who can be neutral.

Commentary directed entirely to you:  How to handle needling, accusatory commentary took the longest for me to learn.  Having PTSD around the abuse, I am so thankful that he cannot come to my house, call me on the phone, talk to me directly in private.  Instead, he is relegated to email and/or text messages.  I have heard from other single parents and have experienced it myself, however, that “emails” quickly turn into “e-mauls” and are designed (intentionally?  Unintentionally? It doesn’t matter, effect is the same) to break you down, make you feel small, put you on the defensive, because it is the only way the person who used to dominate you attempt to regain dominance.  My attorney and my therapist have determined that he still wishes to ‘engage’ in a relationship with me, which is why I would get pages of single-spaced diatribes in my inbox.

And this may sound counterintuitive, but no matter what accusatory crap may be in an email, do everything you can not to respond.  Just don’t do it.  At first, it’s so difficult, he is saying that you are putting the children in harm’s way!  That you neglected to tell him why the children got a bump on their knee at school, so it must be your fault!  That the youngest one is now sick after being at your house all week, it’s also your fault!  That you failed to return the girls’ panties (seriously?) you are purposely withholding items from him! 

But responding to petty crap like this has no bearing on the health and welfare of your children.  Does any of the e-maul have to do with pick ups or drop offs?  Medical appointments?  Then do not respond.
One of the lessons I’ve learned is to scan through the e-mauls, and challenge myself to respond in the fewest words as possible, that will address and relay needed information.  i.e.  To a two paragraph single spaced description about how the children’s coughing has increased since being at your home, when you know the children were fine the entire time with you—a simple response of “Girls have been in good health.”  To a paragraph diatribe demanding that you not call the children’s grandmother’s house when she is watching your sick child while you were working (because he is attempting to control how and when you communicate to anyone related to him), you can respond, “I do not agree and am allowed to check on my sick child directly.” Etc.

It took about a year before the longer diatribes stopped.  In fact, up to less than a year ago, and when he heard about my now-fiance, I did get inappropriate commentary and questioning that were deemed invasions of my privacy.  Again—pick up? Drop-offs? Health?  Then, no, maintain a good boundary and preserve your privacy.  Give the minimal response you can that maintains coparenting, and everything else falls by the way side.

Truthfully, I still get a pang of terror when I see his name in the inbox, but it’s getting better.  Because by not engaging, his accusations and communications have become more brief.  I’ve also learned to not respond and get upset by his petty comments.  And now, there’s something I’m kind of (okay, *really*) proud of.  He is no longer a danger to us in our house.  Through years of grit and determination and times where I thought I’d simply die, seriously, die from the pain:  I have created a sanctuary that is just ours, the girls and me.  I have kept my heart in tact and my soul, too, and now my sanctuary will soon include my sweetheart, loving, dashing, understanding, kind, fiance-very-soon-to-be-husband.

My ex-husband is no longer the Wizard of Oz who reigns terror and control and anger in the household.  Through three years of litigation, therapy, and court orders, he has been relegated to the small, petty  man behind the curtain. 

And I am so happy that we are ready for our new life, and that I have the tools to deal with whatever comes at me, through painstaking hard work, trial by fire, the support of my famly, my friends through it all.  Through all of this, I managed to become luckier than I ever could have imagined.  <3

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Rape is rape, why the confusion? Or, how a Dallas County judge muddied the waters about rape again.



When I read about the story of a Dallas County judge’s light-tap-on-the-wrist handling of a confessed rapist, because the 14 year old victim wasn’t a virgin and had apparently given birth prior to the rape (discussion, <here>, I threw up a little in my mouth.
I agree with Carol Costello’s (CNN news anchor) discussion and question: why is it so difficult for people to understand that rape is a crime?  That a Montana school teacher who also committed rape on an another 14 year old girl was sentenced to merely 31 days of jail, because the judge at the time said the girl acted older than her age, and was “in as much control of the situation” as her perpetrator is vomit inducing as well—although at least that sentencing was overturned (discussion <here>), but only after much public outcry and media attention.

In this context, it is no wonder that women and feminists (and why are we so afraid of being named a feminist in this day and age?  Clearly, gender inequality exists and continues to be perpetuated by our society, by media in all formats, but that’s subject to another post) would be angry, upset, frothing at the mouth with rage.  And yet if we do and are those things, then the world responds that women are just women, and cannot be reasonable, and cannot be trusted to tell the truth, as so aptly written about <here>.  

Which I think is the crux of the matter regarding rape.  Rape (and domestic violence for that matter) is the only crime where the victims credibility is questioned under the most undignified and for the most part, unfair, lens.  What was she wearing?  Was she a virgin?  Why was she walking outside at that hour?  Which is kind of stupid, because most rapes are committed by someone known to the victim.  Then it’s, why did you go with him?  Why are you married to him?  Why did you let him do these things to you?  You shouldn’t have snuck out to see him, because he would drug you, rape you, and leave you on your front lawn to freeze to death, as in the terrible Daisy Coleman case.  

And I understand while women are the majority of the only victims in the cases of rape, it is reported to happen in 10% of the cases with men and boys, who are also ashamed to report their crimes, and there are a whole host of complicated and complex issues that come up for male victims.  Is it more difficult for these men and boys to report their crimes because this is a crime perpetrated 90% of the time on women?  That somehow, as men (or boys) they should have been able to ‘fend off’ their attacker?  (A load of hogwash!)  But when looking at the statistics, why would anyone (women or men?) go forward with reporting a crime that happened to them, when only 3% of the perpetrators will actually get sentenced (maybe 31 days, if that)?  (statistics <here>)

Yet, no one anywhere asks—why did you let yourself get stabbed?  Why did you let your house get burgled—surely you must have done something to invite the burglers in your house.  What’s wrong with you, why did you ask to have someone run you over with their car?  I mean, you were in the crosswalk, didn’t you know cars drive in the street? 

The Dallas County judge’s handling of the rape case is ridiculous and upsetting.  Apparently she gave more credence to the defense counsel that the perpetrator had scholarships and merely had a “lapse” in judgment.  So, she ruled that he not be held accountable for his crimes, because…the victim wasn’t a virgin.  Seriously, the only “lapse” in judgment is the justice system’s conundrum with understanding that rape is a crime and that perpetrators need to be brought to justice.  By not doing so, by not sentencing rapists (and confessed rapists at that!), sends a message to the world that rapists can get away with rape.  

I am raising two daughters—to be socially responsible, active, engaged with making the world a better place, with a knowledge of self-respect and respect for others, with optimism that if we work hard and put our best foot forward, we can bring good things into our life and accomplish just about anything we set our minds to.  We have that privilege because we live in “first world” country, where little girls are not kidnapped and terrorized for going to school; we have that privilege because we live in a “civilized” society that has laws and rules and order, which apparently supports freedom and civil rights.  I am teaching them that they are responsible for their actions, that if they have a ‘lapse’ in judgment and hurt someone’s feelings, they take ownership and say they’re sorry.  And no fake sorries, but taking the time to understand what they said or did and how it would hurt someone, and then saying their sorry—not because I’m busting them, but because little sister or big sister is sitting there crying, which means they are hurt.  (I realize I’m dealing with a preschooler and elementary schooler at this point, so the ‘crimes’ are stealing each other’s toys, or talking back, or calling each other names, but you get the gist.)  I’m setting a foundation that we are accountable.  (at least, that’s the goal!)

Yet—this context of sexual violence, which reaches across class, race, socio-economic status, where the majority of the victims are women, and our society and our justice system’s way of viewing it and handling it that results in victim blaming (i.e. 55 colleges/universities being investigated by the federal government for botching sex assault investigations, discussion <here>)—it stacks the deck against my daughters, against me as a woman and a mom.  How I wish I could wave a magic wand, just say STOP IT!  Stop letting rapists rape and get away with it.  We are in the 21st damn century, after all.  Wake up and be informed and be conscious that rape is a crime.  Period.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Divorce and remarriage--is not for the faint of heart



When my divorce was finalized, something clicked in my brain—and I rejoiced, I will not lie, because I thought the hardest part of this journey was behind me.  Note the past tense.  I shouldn’t be so cynical.  Yet while the heart-dropping fear of court (I don’t know how attorneys do it—once you walk into a courthouse with the weight of your children’s future on your shoulders, there’s just no way to aptly describe the pressure and fear) was over, the pain of living in a house full of unpredictable anger explosions finally given the conclusion it needed—validation from the judge in the form of an explicit ruling guaranteeing the best interests of the children, while also putting in protections to ensure those interests…relief is the least of words to describe it.

What doesn’t stop is the someone who used to be in control all the time, now finding himself without it, continuing to seek control and blending it into new avenues and manipulations to regain it.  Luckily for me, there were measures put in place where my ex has to text or email only—so he can’t yell and berate me.  (And he wouldn’t now, because his M.O. would have been to do those types of things behind closed doors, and there are no closed doors anymore.)  Unluckily he has transformed his vitriol into long and ‘engaging’ emails, or “e-mauls” as another single parent I know calls them.  It took me a good year to figure out how to respond, to be brief, to the point, and disengage from accusatory comments as much as possible.

Also, written in the decree is a court order to go to a co-parenting counselor (CC)—a mediator of sorts, a ‘traffic cop’ assisting with the ‘traffic’ of parenting (i.e. pick ups, drop offs, trades in schedule, etc).  He uses her as a forum to complain about me; I take the time to get assistance on how to disengage.  This works for me, because he cannot directly target me, at least in person, and around the big things, the CC has been helpful—like the dumb and needless blow out about sharing Easter Sunday.  To the 11th hour, the ex stirred up drama, until he finally backed down (with her advisement), and at the end of the day, my girls were able to spend some time with both families.  Because again, they don’t remember the terror from before, they only see the good side of him now, for the most part (crossing fingers), and they love him and their extended family like all kids do.

So it’s taken three years to get used to this new process.  I have learned that “winning” against someone like my ex is not like “winning” or “losing” a football game.  To him, it actually might be (earning points by berating me about how I tied up the girls laundry bag for transfer, etc), but to us, “winning” is living a life full of goodness and blessings, love and laughter.  To not engage in petty and accusatory comments, because there’s no room for that in my big, loving life now.  To show my children that love does not come with a price to pay, that anger is not dangerous, but another healthy feeling among the many, many feelings that we may have as we journey through life.

My fiancé A is still learning this lesson.  My sweetheart A wants to swoop in and ‘save’ us in a traditional sense, to protect us, to keep us from harm.  He sees this by fighting and he sometimes sees me as ‘weak’ for not fighting.  I wish he would understand that engaging and fighting allows my ex to “win.”  By spending emotional time on what my ex is thinking or doing—that’s how he wins, because now he is back in our heads, back in my home, taking up emotional space in the home I worked so hard to rebuild without him.

Are the children’s health and/or safety at risk?  No?  Then a petty battle of words is not worth fighting over.  Because you bet your last dollar the moment should I hear something that affects their health and safety, the second I take action to establish another TRO.  (Which is torture by the way—whoever makes commentary that TROs are easy to come by and women lie all the time to get them—they really do not want to face my wrath.  It is excruciatingly painful.)  Are our personal boundaries and privacy in jeopardy?  Then yes, that is a conversation and tone that is worth setting, worth fighting for, and I know how to set and maintain those boundaries, because abusers are always looking for ways to push them.  I have lots of experience setting boundaries and the scars to prove it.

I just wish, with all my heart, that when we move forward with divorce, especially the ones who have to deal with abusers and manipulators, that we could know our “new” life is so much better, so much bigger, and to do everything we can to minimize the effect of manipulative, petty, and accusatory comments in our lives.  And I pray and hope that my fiancé A learns this lesson too--he says to give him time, that i've had all this time to get used to it, and he needs time and experience and patience.  And it's true, it’s not something that can be told, it can only be lived.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Blended Family-A Meditation



It’s been a few weeks since my fiancé A has moved in with us.  Our entire house has been rearranged and re-organized—a brand new play room for the girls upstairs, a bona fide adult-esque living room and dining room, sans 100,000 miscellaneous toys like sparkling, matchless princess shoes or the random McDonald’s toy stuffed behind the chair.  Although we did set up a “kids table,” where DD1 can do her computer homework every night next to the couch, and when their friends come over, the little people can eat together there.  And truth be told, slowly but surely, there is a trickling toy leakage seeping from the second story to the first one, but it’s manageable and lovable and—it feels like a brand new home, as if A hadn’t merely “moved in,” but that we have all moved in together.  Furniture changed out (and upgraded, lol, lucky us!), my techie future hub hooking up cable and his computer so we can watch movies and Netflix and everything apparently under the sun.  Last night, we watched a snippet of _The Sound of Music_, one of my absolute faves from childhood, and I was so excited to witness my girls watching, transfixed on Fraulein Maria, until it was time to go upstairs for bed time routine madness.  And then hear them singing do-re-mi at the top of their lungs in the bath.  (I’m seriously feeling so content it’s almost scary!)

And such a change from some of the usual rush of getting things ready every night—if I have a complete brain freeze regarding dinner, sweetheart A steps in, barbequing chicken, and DD1 is exclaiming that it’s now her FAVORITE, and DD2 is fighting over a second serving.  After bath time, A helps blow dry their hair before bed time and/or helps with book time.  There is so much giggling before bed, I have to tell them to calm down, that we’re going to BED, ladies, and I’m met with, just five minutes of play time mom, c’mon please?  And then everyone DOES settle into bed, and I actually get about an hour of adult down time before I go to bed to get ready for the next day of madness, too.

Our morning crack of dawn rise and shine remains mostly the same, but now there’s tiptoeing into the bedroom to say goodbye to A, who is still a big heap underneath the blankets.  And I come home to cute mushy post its, and yes, I leave some mushy ones behind, even as I’m packing up the lunches and loading up what seems like a thousand day bags into—backpacks, lunches, ballet class, brownies, etc--into the car.  So the change is fun and exciting and at the same time, strangely “normal”—these random new routines we’re building, they’re becoming part of the scenery, how life is supposed to be. (What exactly does that mean, anyway?)

I recall in my prior incarnations, flying by the seat of my pants, walking through doors when they opened, or windows when doors slammed shut and the windows were the only alternative avenues, not knowing what to expect, embracing whatever was thrown at me, and then telling myself that “things were meant to be,” whether it was finding myself in a foreign country with $40 in my pocket, or moving across the country and back again, or eventually meeting and moving in with my ex, my unintentional-slash-intentional pregnancies, my handling of anger explosions, believing that he loved us and would get better, enabling him because of this belief in ‘meant to be,’ until I realized we were in actual danger…

Sometimes, A and I discuss that maybe we went through all our respective horrible and awful and not so horrible and not so awful and even happy and beautiful times—for a reason, too.  That somehow they shaped us to be the who and why and where we were when we eventually met, so that we are now able to appreciate the things that we give to each other, not out of obligation or because “it was meant to be,” but with an understanding of living through life’s unexplainable horrors and griefs, that reaching the other side of those experiences with our hearts still surprisingly intact and able to be giving and kind and loving for kindness’ sake—maybe that’s a lesson we couldn’t have learned any other way.
I don’t know.  I remember a few years ago holding on so tightly to what I thought life was “supposed to be,” resulted in my putting us in more harm’s way, rather than protecting us.  I think we don’t know, and I sometimes think ‘meant to be’ is a bunch of hogwash.  Or maybe we shape our experiences as something that’s meant to be so we can understand the complications and pain.

What I do know with certainty, is after all that we have been through—these “normal” days of living in our blending family, with the laughter that trickles upstairs when I’m getting the laundry, or the little surprises for the girls that appear because he was thinking of them, or the spontaneous trip to the zoo, or watching them run up to A and ask to be carried or read to or to help them with x, y, z, well--they are a blessing and they are to be cherished.  That I realize acts of kindness and thoughtfulness mean so much more to me now  than what I was able to appreciate before.  So in this moment, I suppose I’m meant to be thankful.  <3