October 1st marks the first day of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PREVENTION MONTH

Domestic violence is a term heard too often in today's society.  Some people still believe they can determine a victim by the bruises on her body.  But there is so much more a victim endures.  Domestic violence actually can begin with what could be considered control. Sometimes one can confuse control with caring. 

Years ago, when I was in college, a group of girls went out. One of the girls in the group had a boyfriend named Michael. She was worried as Michael did not like her to go out. On the drive back to the campus, she expressed her concerns that Michael had called and she wasn’t there. She kept saying, “Michael is going to kill me.” At the time, it sounded so sophisticated, that she was in a relationship with someone who was seemingly so in love with her, he did not want her going out. When we returned to the campus, Michael was there, in his car waiting for her. Wow! We were young, and most of us had not experienced that intense love; and truth be told, we were a little jealous. We were also extremely naïve. 

Years later, I too had my own boyfriend. We went out to a nightclub. When I had to use the restroom, he escorted me there and waited. I thought his concern I was safe so was nice. He would interrupt if any man tried to have a conversation with me. Awe…he wanted me all to himself. He told me I could wear certain boots ONLY when I was with him. He was so protective. He told me my wedding gown was too low. Wait a minute….I looked beautiful….. He checked my outfit every morning before I went to work….This was silly…He ripped me dress off as he felt was too provocative…There was nothing revealing about that dress – it was from Saks Fifth Avenue for God’s sake! He threw me outside in my underwear if I didn’t close the shades….WTF! I wasn’t standing in front of the window. He checked the phone records to see who I spoke to when he wasn’t there….wait a minute – isn’t he conversing with ex-girlfriends? And on and on until it escalated into controlling of everything, including money – I had no access to cash, credit cards, checking account, bank account, isolation, physical abuse, sexual abuse……And I didn’t know I was a victim of domestic violence until the day I was at the library and saw these 2 charts – one showing he exact pattern, which I would subconsciously think when things were good – waiting for the next explosion….however I didn’t know it was a cycle of abuse. 

This same pattern occurs in teenage relationships. It’s so easy to mistake this sense of concern with great love, when it’s really the seedlings of abuse. If you see this pattern, leave the relationship. If you know someone experiencing this, share this information. Call the domestic violence hotline. Make an escape plan. The police have cell phones you can use if (s)he checks your phone. 

Recently, I said to someone, “I don’t know what I am going to do tonight.” He told me, “You can do whatever you want.” What an awesome feeling to be able to make your own decisions without someone controlling your every move! Personal freedom is your constitutional right! Speak out against domestic violence!

And 30 years later...

It was 30 years ago, Tuesday, September 7th at 2:34 PM. He came into this world via an emergency C-section, 3 days after labor began, and was greeted by the medical team and his mom, as his father had been restricted from the operating room when he returned to the hospital from his 4-hour break to eat lunch and smoke a joint. Later, it was no surprise the mother was caring for her baby alone. They took walks long walks every day. They joined a group for new mothers and their newborns, and later formed a playgroup where friendships were formed, - all of which the father mocked. The mother and son were very close, and as the years went on, the little boy would notice his father was barely home. Some days, the father came home from work early, just to pick up his boat and rush out to meet his friends. His son’s delight would turn to disappointed tears as he cried out to go too, but his father would never take him. The mother bore the scars neglect, and more, so she filed for divorce, which angered the father and he swore she would “be sorry”. He retaliated by taking their son to live with the woman he had been having an affair with, yet that opened his young eyes to the realization of how his father treated others, including him. He was not allowed to know his own phone number, because his father didn’t want his mother calling, and fabricated a reason in court. He was carefully watched by the woman’s young daughters so he couldn’t sneak off and call his mother. His father refused to get addresses for his 10th birthday party because it was his mother’s home, - but she was very resourceful, and managed to distribute invitations to the party. Although the son begged for more time with the mother, the father claimed they had “things to do”, although his son knew he lied. The son would whisper to the mother, “You’re much nicer than dad.” It was simply because the mother loved her son more than herself, and she put his needs before her own, and her ex-husband did not. The father knew he could never compete with the mother as a parent, so he began to tell his son horrible things about his mother. He filed false criminal charges, and showed the son unethical and fabricated court documents. He told the son the mother only cared about her new baby, and not about him. He called his son “gay” because he didn’t have a girlfriend. When he found a girlfriend, and got her pregnant, he said his father’s “gay” remarks were jokes, and then refused to allow his mother to see her grandson, stating he was afraid she would hurt him – an outrageous allegation as the mother had never been accused of any kind of physical punishment, while the father actually admitted to beating his son until he was black and blue. The son was lied to every day for the rest of his life until today, his 30th birthday. I am his mother, but he is no longer my son. He is a stranger who recently conveyed his wish for my death. He is a damaged young man who has been programmed by a monster. He has been transformed from a sweet, loving boy to a cruel man devoted to the one who reinvented him. I am no longer proud of him, as I am ashamed of what he’s become, yet I grieve for the gentle child I once knew. So, happy birthday, my son. And when you blow out the candles, close your eyes, and make your wish. You can wish for my death, or you can wish for the truth.

It is said, the truth will set you free, and will allow you to begin the journey of healing from being an inhumanly alienated child, to the loving person you once were as a child under my care. Choose wisely my son, for my demise will not erase the cruel lies forced upon you by your father; my silence will only help to grow the evilness set upon you by your father, malicious cruelty created from his own insanity. My words are not an attempt to convince you of anything. My words stand by the truth of the deeds, and represent the courage and fortitude of a survivor, and the hopes that others can find their strength and their voice to fight domestic abuse, legal retaliation, and parental alienation. Happy 30th birthday, my darling son.

SOMETHING TO PONDER ON FATHER'S DAY

Who should receive Happy Father’s Day wishes?

Should the man who poisons his children’s minds with evil stories about their mother be the recipient of happy Father’s Day wishes?

Should the man who encourages no contact with the mother be touted as a good father?

Should the man who utilized hostile aggressive parenting be celebrated as a father?

Should the man who filed false criminal charges against the mother of his children be looked upon as anything more than an evil sociopath?

You, dear readers, be the judge. Should the innocent victims – the children –be encouraged to honor the parent who dishonored the other parent (man or woman)?  Surely the general consensus on this will emphatically be “absolutely not!” So, on this Father’s Day, let us extend wishes to those who are deserving:

Happy Father’s Day to the men who are more than just a genetic contributor.

Happy Father’s Day to the men who put their children first.

Happy Father’s Day to the men who respect the mother of their children, regardless of marital status.

And Happy Father’s Day to the wonderful women who have taken on both roles.

KARMA

The message of this blog is worth pondering.  The theme deals with the unfairness of losing a child(ren); whether the loss has no reason; or the reason has no validation; or perhaps the loss is the result of karma - either from acts by the parents, or possibly from irresponsible acts from the child. What is a greater tragedy?  Losing a child due to an accidental death; or losing children due to a purposeful desire to sever the maternal bonds?The story follow:

Tom Piersiak was best friends with my former husband since grade school in Needham, MA.  Because of Tom's drug problems, his father banished him to the family farm in Brooks, Maine. He got clean and married Heidie, a local girl, and started a family.  Tom and my husband would go golfing or fishing, and I tried to forge a friendship with Heidie during our visits to Maine. Heidie was polite, but went about her daily activities, and I helped with her chores, or cared for our collective children.  Heidie was occasionally rude, and sometimes ignored me even though I continued to try to foster a friendship. I used to bring my camera and take pictures of the beautiful scenery, and the children. One time I took a beautiful photograph of Heidie's daughter Heather. Heidie liked it so much, I ordered an enlarged copy printed, which Heidie displayed in her living room.  It was shocking when Heidie and Tom later appeared in court to testify against me during my custody battle with my ex-husband.
Heidie testified I  took "pornographic pictures" of her daughter posing inappropriately with some anonymous fabricated friend. WTF? My production of the pictures were proof of Heidie's perjury, but why on earth did she go to court?
Tom lied as well, with a ridiculous testimony regarding my avid interest in the "triple x" pornographic movies on his satellite TV.  Again, WTF? And why would he testify in court? The Piersiaks were just a part of all of the perjury committed in 1996/1997 custody trial where all the fabricated testimony was disproved.

How ironic 15 years later Tom and Heidie's only son, named Thomas, would die in an automobile accident at age 22.  I remember Thomas as a young boy, and I was saddened by his death.  I graciously signed the condolence book online, with sincerity. The loss is tragic, but my kind expression, were not meant to be words of forgiveness, nor comfort for Tom and Heidie Piersiak. I felt it was their karma returning for their lies in court.  They are guilty of interfering with my relationship with my children. Although I would never wish anyone to endure the loss of a child, the words I wanted to express to Tom and Heidie are,  "Now you know what it is like to lose a child for no reason."
I learned what it was like to lose 3 children for no reason, assisted by Tom and Heidie Piersiak. They made the wrong decision to go to court, and commit perjury out of nothing more than cruelty. And when Tom was leaving the courtroom, he paused by me and said "Bye Robin."

Some may say the tragic accident was Thomas's own karma, as he had been the driver of another tragic car accident which killed his friend.  I believe in Karma, and live my life with kindness, and honesty.

Ironically, Thomas was buried on my birthday, which is the day before Heidie's birthday. Is this a sign for Heidie to remember the pain she caused me, each year while enduring the anniversary of her son's burial?  She will probably never enjoy a birthday celebration again, as it will be a constant reminder of burying her son.  But the pain of Thomas's loss will lessen year-by-year, as there is closure.  My children are gone, without closure because they are living in this world without their mother, with continued alienation from their father.  Maybe Tom and Heidie will read this, and realize the parallels of our losses.  Maybe they will find some relief from their own loss if they reach out to my children and let them know the truth… That I was a good mother, and their father has been lying to them for all these years.  In respect to their son who is now gone from this earth, Tom and Heidie Piersiak should rectify their wrongs in order to allow young Thomas to Rest In Peace. But I doubt they will.

SHE CALLS HERSELF AN ATTORNEY, BUT LIZ LEWIS IS AN UNETHICAL CRIMINAL

Here's the true story of a woman who should not be allowed to practice law. In fact, she probably should be on disability, as she is mentally incompetent on many levels. But you, dear reader, will be able to figure this out. Let's start at where it all began.....
Herb Lewis, Esq. is an attorney who resided in Needham with his wife Elaine. Years ago, when the son of his close friends was arrested for possession of cocaine, with the intent to sell, he successfully defended the 18 year old and had the record sealed. Despite the close call, this teenaged narcissistic sociopath continued to deal drugs from his Needham apartment - this time marijuana - which carried a lighter sentence. He accumulated regular customers, and some by word-of-mouth. One customer was a longtime friend, and son of Herb and Elaine Lewis. His older sister was Elizabeth R.Lewis, called Liz, who had followed in her father's footsteps and became an attorney.
About 8 years later, I met this drug dealer, however his drugging and dealing was concealed from me, as the primary goal of the narcissist is to charm, then consume. Facts eventually dribbled out and explained away as the mundane antics of a teenager. A tumultuous courtship, marriage, and 3 children followed. We would spend some of our summer days by the pool at the home of Herb and Elaine Lewis. Elaine was a nice woman who I learned had commented to my mother-in-law about my wonderful parenting skills. During these afternoons, Liz was also present. We always had a friendly relationship.... until my divorce proceedings when Liz was hired to represent my ex.
So let's review…Liz's attorney father defended my ex on charges of possession of cocaine with the intent to distribute. Liz's brother was my ex's best friend and involved with drugs he purchased from my ex. Liz's mother had enthusiastically complemented my parenting skills. In order to be effective attorney in a custody case, Liz was going to have to ignore the facts she knew... and to win, well...she was going to have to lie her ass off.
At the time. I had the idealistic belief our courts were a venue of honor, respect, and truth, resulting in justice. But in family court, I learned the general protocol was based on who was the more effective liar. And that was Liz Lewis.
[Ironically, she was sanctioned in another case for unethical behavior, and handling a case as if it were "her personal vendetta".]
Liz broke every rule, and ignored any shred of ethical attorney protocol. Some examples:
1. It is unethical for any attorney to contact the guardian ad litem assigned to a custody case, as the GAL needs to make a decision based on their own investigation. Liz continuously contacted the GAL, and even told her I was "in crisis", despite the fact I was working, had researched and enrolled my children in nursery school, and continued their daily routines. In fact - nothing had really changed as I had always been the sole caregiver. If anything, my psychological status was better because I was no longer afraid of being abused.
2. Liz brought "therapist" Steven Shapse, to testify and provide a psychological profile on me, despite the fact we had never met.
3. Liz went to "judge shopping" when her motion to change custody was denied twice.
4. Liz submitted a motion denying me due process in court
5. Liz brought an ex-parte fabricated motion into court which caused me to lose visits with my children for almost 5 years. She had plenty of time to have me served but didn't want me in court to refute her lies. Did I forget to mention this was done on my birthday?
6. Liz submitted a written summation for the custody trial which allowed her to lie freely without any reaction in court. Her written summation read as if she were in a different custody trial.
7. Liz (along with my ex) approached the ex-wife of my boyfriend attempting to create animosity in a very healthy relationship. Both handed her their business cards. My ex's slick business card contained information 100% contrary to what he had just turned in on his financial statement - also signed by Liz Lewis - under the pains and penalties of perjury.
8. Liz tried to supersede the judge's order by calling me to request a change in the visitation schedule. When I told her I wanted to comply with the judge, who requested any change needed to be in the courtroom, Liz refused and said "I would rather see you fighting with your children". When I later saw her in court, she denied this, and I asked her what kind of medications she was taking.
Those were just a few of the ways Liz conducted herself, but there are many more, as Liz drew out this trial for months, with her.... well, the only word is bullshit. She lied, manipulated, and insulted. She accused me of "needing men to support me", although I worked and relied on myself, while her client moved into a woman's house immediately after I threw him out. Liz's obsession with my relationships were disturbing, and made me feel as if she possibly wanted another kind of relationship with me.....whoops.....I guess I let the cat out of the closet....I mean bag. (No offense to the LGBT community)
I do not have a photograph of Liz Lewis. I am using this picture of a troll doll as this is the closest resemblance I could find. Liz is a tiny woman whose speech is tight-lipped and monotoned. She wears oversized manly tailored pantsuits to court, no make-up, and a Dorothy Hamill haircut. I recently heard Liz was disbarred however I could not find any supporting information. But, I am sure this is in her future. But, by all accounts, Liz Lewis has proved herself to be, the lowest scum on this planet. She went into court, and ignored her oath as a member of the bar, determined to brutally and dishonorably fight to have children ripped away from a wonderful mother. I am certain her mother Elaine Lewis is rolling over in her grave in disgusting disappointed with her daughter and her actions. If Liz Lewis had any morals scruples, or ethics, she would have refused this case. If she bears any guilt, remorse, or regret, she should tell my children the truth. This is all public record with additional details in my book "...Until You Die": The Narcissist's Promise. I will continue to purge and defile her name for what she did to my children, and someday I hope I can dance on her grave.
 

Why Would She Alienate Someone Else's Children?

My older daughter does not speak to me.  She is 25 years old, and hasn't spoken to me since 2015. Our last communication was a series of cruel texts to me regarding a picture of her former stepmother, I photoshopped to enhance the evil emanating within her soul.  I simply enhanced her ugliness. To digress; This was a woman who enthusiastically contributed to the alienation of my children.  What kind of person would purposely try to destroy the relationship between someone else's children and their biological mother?  What kind of woman would obey a man who's sole purpose was to punish his ex-wife for divorcing him, and using the children to do so? This is not the behavior of a person who is decent or mentally sane.  This is the behavior of a mentally damaged monster.  To no surprise, Mariann was dumped by my ex-husband over 10 years ago yet she clung to my children because they are a tie to him.  Mariann lacks the self-respect to walk away from my children, and encourage them have a relationship with their mother.  She continues to ingratiate herself into their lives, even with my grandson who I have never met. 

And why do I write about her?  Do the parents of murdered children forgive the one who took their children away from them?  Sharon Tate's sister continues to go to court and speak out against the Manson family who killed her sister in 1969. Debra Tate wants justice, and so do I.  I will never stop pointing my finger at the monster who alienated my children. 

Mariann had no reason to continue a relationship with my children. Her interference with my relationship with my children is criminal, and has been exceedingly inappropriate since they were very young.  One of the most disgusting thing she did was tell my daughter my fourth child was going to be born blind and deaf.  Who else but an evil monster would ever think of telling a six-year-old something so horrific? She also cut my daughters's hair, and took her to have her ears pierced.  This is something a predator would do.  The court never gave her any kind of rights regarding my children.

The picture I posted upset my daughter, as it was a picture of "someone she loves".  However, her feelings regarding Mariann were huge spoon fed lies, shoveled down her throat until she was forced to except it, without question. But I know the truth.  And my daughter is terrified to ask any questions, and learn the truth.

Although my daughter knows I am a domestic violence advocate who has written a book describing my life as the victim of her abusive father, and an international speaker who encourages women to speak out against their abuser, she doesn't question me; instead she denies she is "brainwashed".  However, someone who IS brainwashed is unaware of it.

My daughter endured almost 5 years of being brainwashed after her father filed false criminal charges against me. Although the charges had nothing to do with my relationship with my children, and the charges were dropped, and the findings reversed, the 5 years of

"No contact" with my children gave my ex and Mariann plenty of time to infiltrate my children's minds and plant the lies of alienation.

My daughter didn't question why she had to see me in the visitation center, nor did she question why the warranted fees associated with the visits were waived.  ANSWER: The therapists interviewed my ex and determined he was a domestic batterer and I was a victim, so my fee was waived.  This is a fact; Yet my daughter refuses to acknowledge her father was abusive, or questioned Mariann's enthusiasm to alienate her against her mother. 

The "person she loves" was having an affair with her father.  My daughter was too young to understand, yet years later, she never questioned the details. Most children are angry at the parent who is unfaithful.  My children never questioned their father's infidelity and bonded to the "other woman", who flaunted the affair as if it made her important.

It seems as if their early memories with me are erased...and THAT is obviously brainwashing. I remember the early years, and so to all my friends. My children were so attached to me, and their father was never home. His absence was the topic of most of our arguments.  I wanted a family, and he wanted to be with his friends (and other women). Why are they so afraid to learn the truth?

The only reason he wanted custody was because Mariann agreed to take them into her home.  Prior to her, my ex refused to take the children on overnight visits. He could not find an accomplice until he met Mariann.

What kind of woman would disrupt her own children's lives and bring a new man into her house and bed, days after throwing out their father? What kind of woman would agree to comply with a man's lies to take children away from their biological mother?  No decent, self-respecting woman would ever agree. Personally, I would certainly find fault with a man who wanted to do such a horrendous deed.  But Mariann is mentally unstable, and certainly not the sharpest tool in the shed. Her confused priorities, and low self esteem led her to believe she would find self importance in playing a key figure in a custody battle. Mariann was the perfect pawn, easily manipulated to the point of disassociating herself from her own daughters by changing her name when she married my ex. Most mothers keep their married name, to share with their children, despite a divorce.  But a man was more important than her own daughters. She made them accomplices, instructing them to tell my children I did not want to talk to them when I called. Is that what a good mother makes her own children do?

Most recently, she refused to return my belongings that were in her house. Despite the fact I had a court order from 1996 with the list of my property, Mariann lied to the police. Why is she continuing to act this way?  Another sign of mental illness.

My daughter does not speak to me because I posted a picture which was an accurate depiction of an ugly woman with an ugly heart, yet this was "someone she loved". 

My daughter has no memory of her biological mother - the one she first loved.  I was the one who carried her (despite her father's request to abort because he "did not want three children").  I took care of her when she came home jaundiced.  I sat with her, begging her to drink when she had a stomach bug so severe her doctor was about to admit her to the hospital.  When she got an infection on her foot, and when she got kicked in the mouth, I took her to the doctor, and the dentist to make sure the infection didn't spread, and she didn't lose a tooth. (When her father had custody, all medical and dental appointments stopped). My daughter was fortunate I re-entered her life and got her braces for her teeth.  Yes, this 25 year old once loved me, because I was her mother. I was the person who cared about her and only her, not because I was trying to get with some man.  Now her "mother figure" is a whore who stole her affections with lies and cruelty. 

I do not care if this post hurts my daughter.  It's meant to jar her into reality.  I am crying out for the same justice for my children as Debra Tate does for her sister.  My feelings toward my daughter deep down is the love a mother would have for a child who died.  But in real time, it's profound disappointment and disdain. 

And as long as the insane woman is in my daughter's life, there is no room for me.  I will never share my daughter nor show Mariann respect after how she destroyed my children.  I did not care about the affair with my husband because she wasn't the first one and she wasn't the last.  My daughter and sons are damaged products of what happens when children are denied a loving mother.  I have little faith they will have successful relationships.  (My daughter told me my oldest son does not have his son for overnight visits.) 

I had three beautiful children, who I was raising beautifully and lovingly. They have become cruel strangers, and I am embarrassed for them as they did not inherit one shred of common sense to ask questions… Yet I realize they are severely alienated and yes, brainwashed, by an abusive man and an equally abusive woman named Mariann. 

I am fortunate to have another daughter who I raised with love and propriety.  She is a responsible young adult with goals, and self-respect, and has made me very proud. 

My feelings for my three oldest children range from pity to anger;  I realize they too ARE victims. Perhaps they will someday question the lies.  Perhaps they will feel anger and sadness and will undoubtedly need years of therapy to undo the damage.  Or perhaps they will just continue with the unfounded anger they bear toward their biological mother.  I wonder if someday they will feel the pain of growing up without a mother. 

Mariann is not their mother.  She's a pathetic excuse for a mother who disregards the damage she's done. She is worse than domestic batterer, because she has preyed on the innocence of my children for a man who left her.  Mariann had free will to make her decisions, and chose to hurt my children, instead of being a decent person and walking away.  Hey Mariann - it's never too late to walk away. 

Libel? Slander? Or freedom of speech?

What are the legal ramifications of telling your story? How should you tell your story? Should you tell it in the first person?  Change names?  I thought about this in detail.  I felt safe if I decided to tell my story in the first person, without changing names.  I felt my ex would never admit to being the antagonist in my book - the man most readers have hated, thanks to the comprehensive characterization.  I also felt he would not want his identity revealed, as if he actually stood up and admitted I wrote about him, he would be proving himself as at the very least, a narcissist.

In my due diligence, I consulted with an attorney prior to deciding how my book should be written. There was a lot to consider. Should I write the book using my real name as the author? Or should I use a pen name? Should I write it in the first person? Should I write it as a fiction - which would leave speculation as to whether or not it was a true story, or a non-fiction/true crime drama? I knew I wanted to reveal the truth, because, as Oprah said, "In revealing the truth, you release the shame."  There is a fair amount of shame in being a victim of domestic violence.  People wonder why it took so long to leave.  People question as to the custody decisions.  Many people are exactly how I was when I first entered a courtroom.  You respect the legal system, and you respect the judge.  It was a place where honesty prevails, and is above all respected.  What an idealistic way of thinking....but sometimes seeing the world through rose-colored glasses is easier to take, than the reality of what really happens.

From the first day we sat in court, and the case worker asked my ex if he thought I was a good mother, and he vehemently said, "No!"  I looked at him in utter shock.  I had never heard one negative word uttered about my parenting.  The biggest issue we had was my desire to have my husband home as a part of the family, instead of spending most of the time with his friends, and saying activities with the children were "boring".  If I was not a good mother, why wasn't he home to ensure the children were safe?  Simply said, the children were safe with me, and they were not a priority in his life. 

People who know me, whether they are close friends, or acquaintances know I am a survivor of domestic violence perpetrated by my first husband. I have a different last name as I felt I needed to my own identity after the years of abuse. Although I wanted to share the same surname with my children, his attorney screamed in court about retaining his name, making a ludicrous suggestion I wanted to remain married to him, when in fact, I detested the name associated with my perpetrator and craved my own identity.  I changed my name, selecting one with a similar feel to my maiden name albeit much more easy to pronounce, and legally changed it "for personal and professional reasons".

I decided I would use pseudonyms in my book to keep my children's identity private, and utilized a disclaimer in the front of the book, with tongue-in-cheek sarcasm because the names of the villains in my book are very close to their real names. The antagonist's surname of BAUERS is an anagram.  (E-mail me if you can figure it out). 

And, with that said, I am going to start revealing the names of some of these villains. There are several reasons for this decision. Yes I am speaking out, and yes I do reveal names when I speak in public. Most importantly, any name which was in my court record, is libel and slander free, according to my consultation with the attorney.  Therefore, I am protected, as whatever I will write is a matter of public record. In revealing names, other victims of the same people (lawyer, judge etc) may feel more comfortable speaking out and telling their story. However, the main goal is to encourage those who feel they are victims, to speak out, so they can on day call themselves survivors.

So… Hold on tight, because it's going to be a bumpy ride.

FROM ANOTHER SNOWY DAY – FEBRUARY 1988

On this snowy February day, I am thinking about a colleague of mine who is scheduled to fly to India tonight. She is worried that due to the weather, the flight will be cancelled. As I am home due to the weather, I am reflecting on an event, 27 years ago....In similar conditions, and heading to the airport in the early morning hours, hoping to catch a flight to Philadelphia. As a former flight attendant, I was quite sure that the flight would be cancelled. I was also pregnant with my first child, and had a little head cold. My ex was determined to visit his friend, so we took a cab to the airport, where we ended up sitting on the plane, only to deplane upon hearing the flight was cancelled. My ex began calling trains and buses in a futile attempt to travel via a different mode. All calls were in vain and we took a cab home. I wasn't disappointed, after sitting on the cold plane, for more than four hours, my cold symptoms had escalated. I conveyed this to my ex, as well as my eager anticipation to get into my warm bed with a cup of tea.  Upon getting home, I crawled into bed, as my ex called a local friend. In his typical over-animated narcissistic verbiage, I heard him describe how the weather was perfect ski weather, and his friend should join him for a impromptu trip to Vermont.  Despite his sick and pregnant wife, my ex rapidly repacked his suitcase with his ski gear, and left for the weekend, before boiling the water for my tea.  Although I should have been lovingly pampered, I was left to care for myself; fortunately something I could do quite well.  In retrospect, I enjoyed the quite solitude instead of having to listen to frustrated narcissistic rage.   

I don't know my colleague's husband, but I am quite certain that if their flight is cancelled tonight, they will rally.  He will brew her a cup of tea, and then they will look for another way to find a flight to India....together.

Returning to Blogging – Part 1

Obviously, it’s been far too long since my last entry.  Sometimes life has a way of getting away from us.  As a writer, those proverbial dry spells do exist, although sometimes it evolves from a lack of passion in our own lives.  My passion for the cause of ending domestic violence, ending parental alienation, and lending guidance to the victim has never waned.  Instead, my focus on the importance of these issues became dormant due to social issues of enormous proportions, which weighed heavily, and still continues to do so, despite another respite.  Fortunately, this is not a component of the fight many of my readers are facing.  I am not involved in any lengthy court battles, or domestic violence.  In fact, my preoccupation is something I could theoretically walk from, had it not involved a family member.  I shall address this in future blogs.  In doing some research, I discovered areas of personality disorders I did not know existed or even had a name.  Therefore, some future blogs will contain some fascinating and frightening information on infantile personality disorder, as well as addiction, gambling and depression. 

Another issue that kept me from blogging was more personable and shareable.  What should have been a happy occurrence became problematic, yet solvable, albeit time consuming.  I was hired for a full time position.  I was hired for a job working for the state in an administrative capacity in an industry that was completely foreign to me.  Not only was it unfamiliar, the learning curve was so great, that only someone with a passion for learning this industry could retain all the acronyms for each department and project.  Although my relegated cubicle was spacious and had a window, the autonomy was slightly more tolerable than the dreaded meetings where I would take minutes that I can only equate to transcribing a meeting conducted in a foreign language.  I suggested a Dictaphone for these meetings.  Sadly, that never came to fruition. 

On the day an invitation to meet with human resources appeared on my calendar, I knew my days were numbered.  I was never one to decorate my office space until I was certain I was sufficiently happy.  Therefore, there was little I needed to collect – a few pictures, and the record of the online and live courses I completed.  Bidding farewell to the woman in the neighboring cubicle – the only person I chatted with in the company, I made my way to the meeting. 

I was ushered into a conference room, with my immediate supervisor, who sat in awkward silence.  The human resource generalist, who I knew from previous meetings greeted me cheerily, but then sympathetically told me that “this is not a happy meeting”.  I replied, “I know,” although I had a huge smile on my face.  I knew I was being released from a job that simply did not work for me.  No remorse, no regrets, no anger…not every job is meant for every person.  Despite the generous salary, the weight of the stress of the workday had become intolerable.  My dismissal, as well as the ability to collect unemployment as far more desirable, despite the uncertainty of obtaining alternate employment.

In paralleling that separation to a marital dissolution, it occurred to me how similar I felt.  When I separated from my abuser, I felt relief.  I felt happy in moving on with my life.  I was optimistic for new opportunities. I left a marriage that did not work for me, just like leaving a job that did not work for me.  The only difference was who initiated the separation.  I imitated the marital separation, contrary to my former company who initiated the separation.   I looked at the latter split as a sensible culmination.  I had been looking at places outside of my workplace for something else, just as my former husband had been looking outside the marriage for someone else.  Why was my initiation of ending an unsatisfying union met with such anger and retaliation?  We have all read about the disgruntled employees who retaliate with violence after being terminated from employment.  These individuals are usually determined to be unstable and suffering from some psychological illness. 

With that analogy, perhaps my career aspirations should have been the law, as that comparison has won my case.  Isn’t it ironic that family court judges are not that insightful? 

            

Religion and the Narcissist

As the Jewish people just ushered in the year 5774 on the Hebrew Calendar, we are at the time of year when we celebrate, as well as repent for any sins during the previous year.  The Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah is followed by the Day of Atonement – Yom Kippur.  During the synagogue service, as we chant the prayer asking for forgiveness, we gently pound our heart as a symbol of sincerity of the intentions of our prayer.  I chant all the prayers as well, but have a real problem with forgiveness, but only toward my former husband, who has abused my children in the name of vengeance. 

You often hear of the parents of slain children forgiving their child’s murderer.  Whether an accident or a single criminal act caused their demise, the offense could be deemed bad judgment or attributed to mental illness.  In most cases the perpetrator did not wake up that morning and announce the name of the person he was planning to murder.  I am certainly not condoning a killing, but there is a difference between a horrific spur-of-the- moment or nameless choice versus a premeditated and purposeful act of cruelty.  As the convicted perpetrators sometimes apologize to the family professing their remorse, one can only hope the sincerity they are conveying is genuine.  As their admittance does not give them a lesser sentence, I would tend to believe they are sincere.

It is with that same tone of sincerity that the father of my children uttered the lies he has fabricated endlessly throughout the years.  Sometimes I will be questioned about his side of the story, and I reply that I cannot answer, as I never know what he is going to say, as his accusations often change, and are always untrue.  It is difficult to determine if he really believes what he says, or if he is internally gloating as to the way he has manipulated and brainwashed my children.  Another part of me wonders why I am so important to him that he has carried out this constant alienation since our 1997 divorce.  He did not find himself homeless.  He did not lose his job.  He did not have to pay child support.  He was already in another relationship.  He did, however, lose me.  I guess that was enough to anger him and vent his anger to the children.  They would tell me, “Dad says he cannot stand the sight of you.”  Or when I was pregnant, they would repeat the sickening utterances from their future stepmother, “Mariann says that the baby is going to be born blind and deaf.”     

Trying to justify the lack of importance of forgiveness is unnecessary, as these are two soulless people and beyond repentance.  I do not know much about Mariann’s religious upbringing, only the fact she brashly ignored many of the Ten Commandments and brazenly flaunted her marital indiscretions.  My ex was raised by his adopted Jewish family.  As his birth mother was Jewish as well, he was recognized as a member of the tribe.  But, as a narcissist, he could never fit in with the Jewish community.  As a narcissist, he wanted to be viewed as omnipotent, but Jews believe there is only one God.  Catholics believe in the trinity, not the quartet.       

So he had to find other individuals who would treat him as a God, as the leader of their pathetic little group.  He fit in by being the one with the best weed, the one with the cocaine, the most successful fornicator, and the daring rule breaker.  He laughed off every indiscretion, every arrest, and every discarded woman.  He found his mass love outside of the societal norms.  Still, the nagging knowledge that he was not renowned within the Jewish community became a personal affront, so he would mock the Jewish faith.  He could not respect the religion that would not view him as a leader, and would go against each tradition as retaliation.  Marrying a woman who embraced her Judaism, enabled him to often taunt and devalue the traditional beliefs, raising him to the standards he considered higher, and more important. When he mocked his religious and its values, it made him feel as if he was on a larger playing field, and above those who followed an organized religion. 

It seems as if an individual with outspoken sacrilegious actions, belief and words, and motivated with bad intent should be met with swift and complete punishment.  But it appears that God has a bigger plan.  Upon the day we are finally judged, I do not believe forgiveness will be shown.  I do not believe I will share my eternity in the same place as my ex.  A narcissist finds it hellish when people do not put him in a position of power, and do not listen with rapt attention to his words, or laugh at his pathetic attempts at humor.  Hell for a narcissist is a room where the audience is bored with his performance.  Hell is a lack of attention and applause, and perhaps even leaving the narcissist to perform in agonizing solitude.  Something about that vision is deliciously just and almost worth a peek.  But I have already walked out on that show.

PARENTAL ALIENATION: Just because YOU were a failure as a spouse doesn’t make ME a failure as a parent.

I was a good mother. I cherished my role.  Even from the very beginning my nurturing abilities were instinctive.  I nursed my children instead of giving them formula.  I prepared their first meals with natural ingredients in my food processor.  I took them on daily outings.  As babies and toddlers, they enjoyed weekly playgroups.  Their medical and dental care was always up-to-date.  They were always bathed and dressed in freshly laundered clothing.  There was nothing they lacked, except for paternal interaction. 

Their father frequently proclaimed that because he worked during the day, he should not have to take care of the children.  He considered them “work”, and announced their activities “boring”.  His life centered on his job, getting high with his friends, spending time on his boat, dalliances with other women and his drug dealings.  His choice of lifestyle greatly conflicted on my family values.  I always believed that family came first.  I always anticipated dinners, activities and outings with my family.  Instead, I had solitary meals with my children.  I had no access to money, so our activities were limited to my creativity.  Everything in my life was controlled by my husband’s rules and temper.  I bore the brunt of his anger, but my sons were victim as well.  They wore the marks of his beating, and endured the scars of his harsh threats.  I was too frightened to call the police, as I felt it was my fault for my inability to stop his attack on my sons, and feared he would next turn his anger on my 2 year old daughter, and surely killed her.  I thought I would be punished for his abuse and lose custody of my children.      

Night after night, I would pray for a way to be rescued.  I found my escape in the form of an inheritance from my great uncle.  Having my own money meant freedom, and I eventually used every penny to leave and hire a divorce attorney.  Life without him meant peace.  My heart palpitations stopped, as did my stress.  I viewed my lifestyle changes and going back to work as a small price to pay for being able to breathe again.  I had no anger toward my ex husband; I merely did not want him as a life partner.      

The fact I filed for divorce meant much more to him than the dissolution of a marriage.  Divorce meant he had failed as a husband and a father.  To view it that dramatically was not unusual for a man who met all the components of narcissistic personality disorder and antisocial personality disorder.  It is not uncommon for two personality disorders to merge, but when they do, it makes for an extremely dangerous individual.  The narcissistic sociopath believes the world revolves around him, is concerned with only his needs, feels societal rules do not apply to him, and has no empathy toward others.  Severing a relationship with a narcissistic sociopath, creates a reaction that is severe and retaliation that is cruel.  They are incredulous that someone would leave someone as wonderful as he believes himself to be, and evokes the need to prove to the world that she is actually the crazy person. 

Despite his years of disinterest in the children, he filed for custody.  Serving as his accomplice was a woman chosen solely for her willingness to obey his directions and provide childcare, so he would not have to alter his lifestyle.  Along with his lawyer who had previous sanctions for unethical practices in custody cases, he was prepared to implement his punishment to the mother of his children for ending the marriage.

It seemed impossible that a judge would actually award custody to this man, yet, by using her unscrupulous tactics, his attorney was able to find a judge who changed the custody.  It did not matter that he had a criminal record, was a drug dealer, and batterer.  He denied everything – even the submitted pictures of his fingerprints on my neck after he strangled me; and appallingly he was awarded sole physical and legal custody.  

I was granted liberal visitation, and did not have to pay child support.  Although heartbroken from the unfairness, I continued to parent successfully, becoming extremely resourceful in juggling my meager salary to provide a loving lifestyle for my children.  I rallied and began to experience many positive changes.  But each happy occurrence was like a thorn in the side of my ex husband, causing him to retaliate in some cruel ways, usually to the detriment of the children.  He did not allow them to bring clothing or toys to my home, he stopped their medical and dental care, and he cut off my daughter’s long hair.  Each joyful event in my life was punctuated with another malicious deed, even a physical attack when I was pregnant with my new husband’s baby.     

But anything he did or said could not erase my children’s memories of the loving mother that used to tuck them into bed each night.  So, my ex had to take more drastic steps.  He filed false criminal charges against me, and brought an ex-parte motion into court on my birthday to halt my visits; resulting in the outcome he desired, lasting more than four childless years, based on a lie.  During that time, he would show court documents to my children and tell them, “Your mother did something very bad”, tainting their memories.

After years of fighting the judicial system, I was reunited with three strangers, who had become teenagers during the lost years.  Although parts of their memories were unblemished, their father had created doubts.  Despite the loving thoughts that may have sustained them during those vacant years, reservations were thrown into their young minds creating confusion of what they really remembered. 

As we slowly began to rebuild a relationship, my ex requested we forget the past and start fresh.  Agreeing for the sake of the children, I should have realized that he had not changed.  He still viewed each positive change in my life as a dagger of his own defeat.  The more the children enjoyed time with me and their younger sister became the trigger my ex needed to build upon the chain of maternal negativity he had been creating for years.  And this time it had to be final.

He used every method of negating anything I did for them, as well as taunting them that I only cared about my youngest daughter and spent all my money on her without revealing she received monthly stipends from her late father.  One by one, they broke off communication with me.  They would never reveal why they were doing so.  Any calls, letters or e-mails were ignored.  My final attempt was an e-mail I sent informing them that their only biological grandparent had passed away.  My sons ignored the news, but my older daughter, who had once written a note to me in crayon stating she wanted to live with me every day of the week and not just weekends, sent a cruel message indicating that she did not feel it was important to go to her grandmother’s funeral because the relationship she had with her “wasn’t pleasant”.  Despite my attempt to inform her that attending a funeral was to support the living, her responses were bitter, unbending, and gloating of her “wonderful life” with her father. 

I can only feel pity for three children whose memories have been replaced by bogus horror stories fed to them since childhood.  I can feel sadness that they have been raised by someone seeking vengeance rather than offering love.  My ex has not changed his ways.  His lifestyle still revolves around himself and his desires.  In contrast, my youngest daughter has enjoyed the benefits of being raised with unselfish love.  She attended private school, summer camp and has traveled to Israel.  Her medical and dental care is up-to-date, and she has embraced her religion.  She has grown up with all the traditional support and values celebrated within wholesome family environments. 

In predicting the future of my alienated children, I fear they will be faced with a myriad of problems and obstacles.  From behaviors I have witnessed, I see years of counseling.  Should they choose to seek answers, it will mean looking at themselves and their past, something that many people are too frightened to learn.  Maybe they will then turn to me for answers.  I hope that the truth will bring some clarity to them and dredge up the memories of the mother who cared for them, and the father who was seldom there.  I hope they will come to their own conclusions; for if they chose to alienate their father, it will be of their own decision, and desire to erase the demon of their past.

Pity

As a writer, sometimes, it is a challenge to decide what word best suits the emotion you are trying to express.  My writing often revolves around topics that evoke a variety of sentiments.  I love the thesaurus.  I love finding alternate ways to describe something.  Often, although the meaning is similar, the words bear a slightly different tone.  Recently, I looked up the word pity, and found many synonyms: shame, disappointment, misfortune, sympathy, and compassion.  These words mean the same thing, but each word has a different flavor. 

For example:  A glamorous Hollywood movie star recently underwent a double mastectomy to prohibit the growth of the cancer cells her medical history dictated.  As a high risk woman she opted to take somewhat drastic precautions to avoid the disease. I have compassion and sympathy for a surely difficult decision, but I also have admiration for her bravery.  Pity is not a word I would use in connection with Angelina Jolie, for she is a survivor.

Heinous crimes are always in the forefront of our news.  The most recent one is the Jodi Arias trial who received a Murder One verdict for the heinous murder of her former boyfriend Travis Alexander.  When the jury could not reach a decision regarding the death penalty, Travis’s family broke down in tears.  Watching them, I felt empathy that justice had not been given that day.  My heart ached for them and for their pain.  Pity is not a word I would use in connection with the siblings of Travis Alexander, for they are survivors.

Pity is a word used for situations that appear to be unchangeable.  Pity is used for those in a downward spiral, or stuck in their circumstances, stagnant, and unable to find the strength to question, move or rectify.  I would use the word pity for the starving children of the infomercials, living in horrible conditions.  Pity is induced toward the suffering victims of handicaps or deformities.  Pity is also called to mind for children of hostile aggressive parenting or parental alienation.  This behavior is not visible like the Save The Children infomercials.  This is a secretive occurrence that happens behind closed doors, hiding the atmosphere of revenge, and the methods used to prompt the children to hate.  One can only have pity for them at the unfairness of being estranged from a loving parent, and being betrayed by their other parent, who is selfishly utilizing his own anger to promote revenge.  What a horrible childhood it must be when the one person you trust is lying just because they are angry that their former spouse who wanted a divorce.  My three oldest children have the misfortune to be such victims.  They were exposed to continuous vitriolic verbiage since a very young age.  If they did not hear it from their father, they would hear it from their step-mother, who was equally misguided and cruel.

This was confirmed years ago when the nine-year old seated beside me at the ballet school, questioned my identity after seeing my daughter wave to me from her dance class.  After I told her I was Arielle’s mother, she stated, “Oh.  I’ve heard all about you!”  She was the niece of my daughter’s step-mother.  Why would a 9 year old be privy to any conversation about me?  My ex was constantly spewing evil, and I wondered what was going on in that house that allowed young children to hear, and easy remember his sordid words.  It was happening in a house where the secrets were concealed.                  

To date, my three oldest children (now 21, 22, and 24) are fully alienated by their father’s cruel ways.  Nevertheless, they have been continuously feeding his narcissistic supply, as he is the money giver.  Regardless of what he does, they worship him.  They have no sense of speculation.  They have no questions regarding his gleeful slander.  He has erased any reasoning abilities from their minds.  They are, in a sense, malleable puppets, on this earth to do the bidding of a malicious sociopath.  Pitiable.   

Maybe someday they’ll return to me with questions or regret.  I do not know that answer nor can I be consumed with these young adults whose emotions are impenetrable, hardened and mean.  I can only concentrate on making a wonderful life for my youngest daughter.  Sometimes, I have flashes of thoughts about my oldest children, yet all I feel is intense pity for three individuals whose future relationships will undoubtedly be bleak.  Unless they can start to realize that healthy people do not encourage their children to hate, based on lies, then the cycle of being a pitiful individual will continue.  Personally, I would rather be known for my strength as a survivor, than pitied for remaining a victim.  

Yard Sale

Today I had a yard sale.  Being very analytical, I debated over each detail – when should I hang the signs?  The day before, or the morning of my sale?  And where?  And how large did they need to be?  Tape or nails?  Should I post pictures online of the items I was selling?  Should I run the ad in other publications?  Should I bring a sign to the location of other yard sales in the area – so perhaps they can send their customers to my house once they’re finished.  I know I can make myself a little meshugana worrying about silly points – but I like knowing I put 100% effort in each endeavor.  I was so worried about this yard sale, as it seems like such a new and foreign event to plan…..until, for some reason, I remembered another yard sale I hosted…17 years ago.

I was moving out of the house in Newton.  How naïve I had been in believing that my ex husband was going to buy another house after renting for a year – in an attempt to alleviate his non-payment of taxes for over 10 years.  He had sworn he would never live in Newton – only because he knew that’s where I wanted to live and raise my children.  He had to be the decision maker…as well as coming up with the original idea.  How stupid was it to agree to live in a rental house for 1 year, just prior to going on the market?  But, we all make mistakes….and we all digress…..

 At that time, all yard sales ads were printed in local newspapers.  My ex was living with his mistress in her house and I was planning on moving further North with the children, which was closer to my new job.   He never read the paper, but he relied on his source of information from my (former) best friend.  They had an ongoing affair and she reported everything I was doing or planning.  So, it should have come as no surprise when midday during my yard sale, he pulled up in his Toyota 4-Runner and screamed out the window, “You can’t have this sale!  You’re selling marital assets!” 

Ironically, there was a woman there chatting with my mother, who was helping out.  The woman looked up when she heard the yelling.  “Who is that?....He looks familiar…”  My mother told her who he was, as the woman happened to be a former teacher at Needham High School.  Upon hearing his name, the woman nodded her head.  “Yes, I remember him.  He was extremely problematic.  Your daughter is lucky to be away from him.” 

The event was actually something I later laughed about.  On drives with friends, if we saw a yard sale, we’d yell out the windows, “Get away from those marital assets!” and then burst into laughter.  It never ceases to amaze me that the more I learn and reflect on the characteristics of a scorned narcissistic sociopath, the luckier I feel to be free.

Today, my yard sale was not as successful as I would have liked, but it was a start in unloading some unwanted items.  It was a quiet and peaceful day with no unwarranted interruptions from a crazy man yelling at me from his window.  But, I had already unloaded that unwanted item 17 years ago.  

The Bunny Hop

Within the past few years, there has been an overabundance of rabbit sightings.  Almost everyone I know have told me about the bunches of bunnies they see in their yards.  Everyone seems to love bunnies.  Of course, they are so cute, hopping through the grass, or just sitting with their little noses twitching.  These small mammals seem to be the perfect pet for someone who does not want to walk a dog or change cat litter.  I do not mind the latter, so I never entertained the thought of acquiring a rabbit as a pet.   But the emergence of these cute little animals hopping through the yards reminded of the time my children begged me for a bunny.

“Can we get one mom, please?”  The children were begging me to buy the bunny for sale at a country fair.  I was torn between wanting to please them, and disappointment.  I wondered how my children’s father would feel about having a docile, pet that required little care in comparison to a dog or a cat.  I remembered his reaction years ago when I suggested getting a dog as a pet for the children.  

 “Okay,” he had said; then added, “but I want an aggressive breed – not a stupid terrier like your mother has!”  Wow…there was SO much wrong in his answer.  In suggesting a pet for my children, I had assumed he understood that we would get a breed that would be gentle with children.  I did not have my heart set on a particular breed, but I did wish for certain traits.  Aggression was not one of them.  And with that, our discussion ended.

Now faced with their pleas for a bunny, I wondered how he would react.  I decided to try to call him.  When he did not answer, I left a message and waited for a return call.  It was not unusual for him to ignore my call as he called only if he needed something from me.  Oddly, when picking up the children from a visit, he would greet them with fabricated concern, “I was so worried about you guys!” despite the absence of any check-in calls.  As a worried parent would have called, his comments were strictly to plant a seed of fear with the children.  Cruelly calculated, as he was smug in knowing he only had custody due to his attorney’s unethical behavior and my record was spotless.

“It will be fine with dad!”  The children assured me.  “He said we could have a pet!”  Really?  Well, his wife had an old cat.  So perhaps he was ready to introduce a new pet, prior to the inevitable death of the cat.  And it was only a small rabbit that lived in a cage.  So, against my better judgment, I bought them the bunny and the cage.  I stress it was against my better judgment.  However, when a good mother is victimized by her batterer within court, and loses custody inexplicably, she tends to over compensate to her children’s wishes. 

On the ride home, the children talked excitedly about their new pet.  They debated about what to name her, and talked about the fun they had that day – the music, the hayrides and the food.   As we got closer to Natick, their demeanor began to change.  Their chatter had stopped.  Their voices were no longer enthusiastic.  They sounded strained and nervous.  When we got to the house, they were downright frightened.  Halfheartedly, they took the caged little bunny and closed my car door.  Suddenly, their father ran out of the house.  “Give that back to her!  You can’t have that here!” 

The children started screaming, “You said we could get a bunny!”      

“I’ll get it for you, not HER!” he shouted.  Turning to me, he snarled, “You better take that with you.”

Reasonably, I said, “I left you a message and you never called me back. But if you do not want it, let me know tomorrow and I will find a home for it.”

My ex, a narcissistic sociopath was selfish to a fault, often cruel, and lacking empathy for anyone but himself.  He could not listen or accept reason as he was the one who had to make the decision or have the final say.  But, at the moment, he was stuck.  “YOU can’t just get them a pet without my approval.  I am the one in charge of everything.” He declared pompously, in an attempt to let me know that he relished in being allowed to have some control over me. 

Sweetly I replied, “I will find the bunny a home.  Now, I have to run because I have a date.”  And I drove off.  My last comment was like sticking a knife in his gut.  I could not resist because the thought of me with another man made him livid.  I knew I was risking some sort of retaliation, but for the moment, the look on his face was priceless.

I called the children before I went out that evening.  I wanted to make certain they were safe, and their father did not take his anger out on them.  They gleefully told me that their step sister had a friend who had several pet bunnies and welcomed one more.  Their voices reflected the relief that they would not have to bear the burden of their father’s anger. 

At least for that night.    

Thoughts From The 10th Annual Battered Mother’s Custody Conference

The 10^th Annual Battered Mother’s Custody Conference was held the weekend of May 10^th, 2013.  I was honored to be a presenter among a distinguished, brave and respected group of people.  Upon reviewing the list of workshops, there were several I was interested in attending.  My own experiences as the wife of a batterer, and subsequent victim of him and his unethical attorney in the family courts, led me to select only a few workshops to attend, as I could not bear to endure an overload of listening to tragic cases of abuse, unjust custody and brainwashed children.  Too many stories or ones with similar themes still bring back flashbacks of horrific incidents, and evoke bouts of panic.  While not full-blown post traumatic stress, listening to comparable events can cause quickening heart beats and rapid breathing. My sporadic attendance did not keep me from hearing the experiences from some of the attendees.  Every case was shocking and unique yet contained some nuances of what I had endured, either by my ex husband or in conjunction with his (former) second wife.  But listening to others, serves as a reminder that your own story is just as compelling, and your participation as a supporter and survivor is truly valuable.           

Hearing the cruelness other women endured by their ex always cause a painful remembrance, yet there is renewed validation as well.  It is common for batterers to either deny the abuse, or place the blame on their victim.  When living with a batterer, it is not uncommon to become prey to gaslighting.  Taken from the 1944 movie Gaslight, the term is used to describe an abuser’s behavior of accusing his victim of false deeds, as well as ensuring her isolation.  It’s a way of creating self doubt, as well as forcing her to lose her independence.  A victim can often question herself when under the control of an abuser.  In writing my book, “…Until You Die”: The Narcissist’s Promise, there was the slimmest thread of uncertainty.  It was not until I was in class for domestic violence advocacy certification, that I even heard the term gaslighting.  The description of the term was a revelation as well as the final piece of validation I needed.        

During the conference, when one survivor related a time her abuser utilized a mocking tone that left her feeling sickened and helpless, which induced the exact pit-in-the stomach recollection after hearing that same nauseatingly mocking tenor from my abuser, as he continued his harassing deeds that continued for years.  There was a tremendous tale of survival from a young man who fled from his sexually abusive father, finding his freedom by emancipation with a young marriage in Nevada.  Another story reminded me of my ex’s cruelty toward my children with his second wife as a willing accomplice.  Hearing of the perverted glee of tormenting the children brought back these heinous memories.  Even during the conference, I began to wish my oldest son had the same courage after his step mother exposed herself to him, and his father openly made lewd and lascivious comments to her teenage daughter.  It was a house full of cruelty, perversion, abuse and intense fear.  My children were terrified, yet too young and unable to do anything to change their situation.

Many of the women attendees were interested in making modifications in our family courts so abusers will no longer be able to freely manipulate the system.  When that was brought up in the workshop I was conducting, I explained that our courts need a complete overhaul beginning with something as minor as administrative errors.  For example; the report written by the guardian ad litem in my case did not include anything that warranted losing parental rights.  The judge denied my ex’s motion for a change in custody.  If our court had accurate ways to track motions that were previously heard, his unethical attorney would never have been able to judge shop and present the motion two additional times until she got the answer she sought for her client.  In essence…I lost custody of my children due to an administrative mistake.  And that’s tragic.     

If all the work, dedication, support, and solidarity can someday bring about significant changes in our family court, our children will not have to endure the same fate.  Many of us are fighting despite the fact our children may be gone as well as severely damaged.  But, as loving, strong and fabulous mothers, we feel it’s our responsibility to continue to fight this battle, even if our children have been lost. 

I am thankful everyday for the daughter I have with me.  In comparison with my three older children who were ultimately raised by an abuser, it is crystal clear on who succeeded as parent and who failed.  Sadly, the products of failed parenting will probably be facing their own court battles, as they are no longer emotionally healthy individuals.  And if we are successful in changing our family courts – in their future, they may find themselves in the unenviable role of a non-custodial parent.     

The Name Game

In the movie, “The Crucible”, Daniel Day Lewis, who plays John Proctor is faced with either admitting he was consorting with the devil or go to the gallows.  But in saving his own life, he would be putting his name on a piece of paper, for everyone in the town to witness.  He passionately screams out, “Let me keep my name!”  But his options are non-negotiable.  He chooses to hang, rather than live a life in the shadows of the only name he’s ever had, forever blackened with a false admission. 

I faced a challenge with my name when the attorney representing my ex in court, pointed at me and demanded to the judge, “She is using MY client’s name!  She still wants to be married to him!”  Unlike John Proctor, I bore the name of my ex with indifference.  My matter-of fact rational was merely sharing the same surname as my children.  The fact it was his name was of no consequence to me, as I had long ago lost any feeling for this man due to his abuse and control.  That name held no respect, but after losing everything in my divorce, I still used the name to prevent further distancing from my children    

I was engaged to my second husband before the ink on was dry on my divorce documents.  My ex husband mockingly asked what name I was going to use?  It seemed logical to hyphenate both surnames, so I still had a connection to my children, as well as my new husband.  Unfortunately, due to longstanding issues he could not conquer, my husband suddenly disappeared when our daughter was barely three months old.  After a year without contact, I again pondered the issue of names.  My choices were to use the name of a man who was missing or a name associated with cruel abuse.  I chose to claim my own identity.   

The name battle had been raging in the presence of my children when their new step-mother would scream at them, “Your mother is using MY name!”  It was more important for her to adopt a new name and ignore the name bond she shared with her daughters.  My children were inordinately stressed from her constant badgering.  I thought my decision would alleviate some of their tension.  At first they were confused and my daughter asked if I would still be her mommy.  “Of course I’ll always be your mommy!  But I think it will be easier if I have a name that’s just mine.”  They understood.

I began to think of what name to select.  My mother’s maiden name was Robinson, which would be a bit redundant   I though of surnames started with “R”…but it seemed too contrived.  How could I just pick a random name?  Should I use my maiden name of Schlager?  I never liked the throaty sound of 4 consonants coming together followed by a guttural “G”.  It did seem natural to select a name beginning with “Sh”, a bit simpler than “Sch”.  During a random perusal of an obituary page in the newspaper, I noticed announcement for Shaye, an elderly person from the Jewish community.  I tried out the name and repeated, Robin Shaye.  It had a pretty sound…but also sounded familiar.  Suddenly, I remembered the movie, “And God created women…”  The remake starring Rebecca DeMornay (also a name changer), who played a character named Robin Shea who was an incarcerated musician and escaped from jail.  It was almost metaphorical of my life.  I, too, was a musician, and had escaped from my jail of being married to an abuser who was so controlling I had renamed him, and called him the Warden.

Analytical and wanting to be sure, I did a quick numerology check on the name.  Utilizing my full name, the numbers added up to a lucky 7 – just like my birth date!  Not only that, Shaye sounded like an anglicized Schlager.  It made sense. 

I was excited to legally receive my new name.  After standing before a judge and stating my reasons, I was granted with a document imprinted with my new name and emblazed with a gold foil seal.  It was especially beautiful because it symbolized a new beginning for me as an independent woman. 

My baby had been using her father’s surname for about a year.  Because of his absence from her life, I thought it was be less complicated to explain different names when she got a bit older.  I learned she could use the name Shaye without going to court.  I informed her daycare and pediatrician that she would be using my name.  Even her public school allowed her to use Shaye, instead of the name on her birth certificate.  When she was eight years old, her father resurfaced.  He had been crushed by years of self abuse.  It took him over a year to dredge up the courage to telephone our daughter. He died two months later.  His death opened the door to a legal name change yet her father’s name is also her birthright. 

I will leave it up to her if she wishes to change her name legally.  Whatever path she takes, I will support.  She still is joined to her father’s family by a grandmother, siblings and uncles.  I am hoping she may someday experience a strong familial bond with her father’s family, regardless of whatever name she claims as her own.  In the future, I see a strong young woman who may never want to take the name of her future husband.  She is showing the signs of young adult independence as well as a self pride.  I am hoping I had a little to do with that.