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.  

A Grim Fairy Tale

Once upon a time there was a mother who had three beautiful children – two handsome boys and one beautiful girl.  They were everything to her.  The rising sun and setting moon could not measure up to the love she had in her heart for her children.  She made everyday an adventure. Although she had little money, she always came up with creative ideas to make each day fun and special. 

One day, the children didn't see her.  Their father had appeared and introduced them to a new house belonging to a new woman he said would be a better mother than the one they would no longer see.  The children were bewildered because this new woman was unpleasant.  She yelled at them all the time.  She never took them on outings.  She never sang to them or read them stories.  But, she was all they had, so in time they accepted her as a mother.  They clamored for their father's attention, but when he was there, most of his conversation centered on what a terrible person their own mother was and how lucky they were to be away from that terrible person.  In time, they started to believe it as well. 

There came a day when they finally were able to see their mother.  In the time they were apart, the mother had a baby.  They were so excited to see her and meet their new little sister.  Her hugs were as warm as ever, and she spoke to them in loving tones.  The fog that had grown through the years slowly dissipated as the children began to remember.  But their happiness was soon shattered by their father who daily told them that she only loved her youngest daughter and gave her all her love and possessions, while denying them with her lies.

Saddened, the children began to draw away from their mother.  Seeking a maternal figure, they grew closer to the woman who was now their father's wife.  In time, they did not ask about their mother and eventually they did not want to see her at all.  They coldly turned away when their mother tried to see them.  When their grandmother died, their mother again reached out to them, but they cruelly refused to attend their grandmother’s funeral. 

It was then that the mother had to make a difficult decision.  She could not think about her three older children any longer.  All of her attempts to talk to them were futile.  They were too frightened by their father to ask the details of their childhood, and and terrified to learn the truth, thus exposing their father as the liar.  So the mother devoted her life only to her youngest child, promising her she would no longer try to contact the older children because it made her sad, and her daughter did not like to see her mother unhappy. 

Years went by and the children went off to their own lives and families.  One day the three oldest children learned that their mother had died.   They went to the funeral and approached their younger sister who was standing there, her grief visible.  Approaching her, they briefly murmured condolences, and then turned to leave.  "Wait!" their sister spoke.  "I have a copy of Mom's will."  The three turned back, each remembering suddenly how much their mother had loved them.  Emotions welled up as the pain of all those lost years came rushing back.  She was their mother and they abandoned her. They asked no questions.  They never stood up to their father; and instead cried confused tears into their pillows.  "We're sorry," they cried.  "We loved Mom!  We're sorry we left you too!" 

As their tears flowed, their sister read from their mother's will: "To my two sons and oldest daughter- I loved you more than my own life, but you turned from me and never returned.  It made me sad that you chose to ignore your mother.  However, I did not want to leave you out of my will.  I want to give you something so you will always remember me....therefore, I leave to each of you one dollar.  This is so you will never forget that you only have one mother.”

The youngest daughter folded the will.  “She left me everything else.  But I would give it all away if she could have died knowing that you loved her as much as I did.”  She turned and walked away as one.  She would strongly stand as the one person who was fortunate to have her mother's love, which she knew would always be there.  

Highly Profiled Criminal Case Swayed By A Narcissist?

As I have preparing for the 10^th Annual Battered Mothers Custody Conference in May, where I will be presenting a workshop on Narcissism, Domestic Violence and my book, “…Until You Die”: The Narcissist’s Promise, I have been lax in my blog.  During this time, I have been consumed, obsessed, fixated, et al on the Jodi Arias trial.  As I’ve written about this trial in a prior blog (“Trials on Television Vs. Reality” 2-13-13), appalled that she is using domestic abuse and PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) as her defense for killing her former boyfriend Travis Alexander.  This alleged defense is the reason she shot Travis in the face, stabbed him 29 times and slit his throat back to his spine.    Obviously, utilizing this defense is sickening – especially for actual victims of batterers who, in their attempt to leave their abuser, ended up losing everything; their home and their children, only because our family courts do not fully understand the many components of domestic violence.  Could this really be happening in our criminal courts as well?

To date, on the witness stand is a Dr. Samuels, a psychologist for the defense, brought in to confirm Jodi Arias is indeed suffering from PTSD; and her alleged “memory loss” of the damage she inflicted with the knife to Travis is not uncommon with an individual in the throes of a traumatic event – supporting Jodi’s claim of “self-defense”. 

In the past, Dr. Samuels has incurred sanctions because of inappropriate conduct with a former client.  It is becoming apparent that Dr. Samuels has crossed the line of appropriateness with Jodi, and his appearance in court is slanted for her benefit and not as an objective evaluator. 

This struck me with the sickening familiarity of how narcissists have the ability to charm a professional assessor to the point of disregarding the reason for the assignment.  

The same captivation occurred in my own custody trial, where my former spouse charmed the guardian ad litem to the point of writing a report full of contradictions.  So enamored was she, that she testified that she did not feel certain exhibits or investigations “were necessary”.  Chillingly ironic, these were the same words used by Dr. Samuels in the trial of Jodi Arias.          

The GAL in my case ignored the 50 pages of journal entries I gave her in support of my sole care of my children and an abusive husband.  She deemed them “unnecessary”.  Also needless was knowledge about the woman my ex was living with, even though she would be caring for my children.  The crux in her report was a statement, “Robin’s friends had nothing to say about J, as he was never home.”  This followed his claim that he was always home and the only caregiver for my children.  My journal entries were filled with pages of how upset I was when he chose to spend time with his friends away from the house.  How could she deem this unimportant?  This is how a professional can get reeled in by the compelling act of the narcissistic sociopath.

Dr. Samuels has seen the gruesome pictures from the murder of Travis.  I have seen them as well.  Looking at Jodi Arias and hearing her soft voice, it seems impossible that she bears that kind of evil.  But the pictures alleviate any doubt of the sociopathic core this woman possesses.  Dr. Samuels has the same quandary as the GAL in my custody case.  He is torn between a charming, attractive woman and the unforgivable result of her actions.  But, he has allowed his attraction for the narcissistic sociopath to cloud all logic, enabling him to twist the facts enough, turning this villain into a victim. 

In contrast, when a GAL, judge or family worker are ignorant of the allure of a narcissistic sociopath, they routinely turn the victims into villains; doling out the punishment of losing custody of their children. 

I am hoping my workshop at the Battered Mothers Custody Conference will bring attention to these injustices in our judicial system, and ultimately stop the victims from being punished just for seeking justice. 

Grandmothers

I recently took my youngest daughter to visit her paternal grandmother, who is now residing in a nursing facility in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  A once vibrant woman, she is now quiet, and offers sporadic random words…trailing off with her loss of memory.  Conversation is bursts of news from us, or making successful guesses at the few words she utters.  Although her scant memory does not allow her to contribute much, their time together will be treasured, and someday shared with my daughter’s own children and grandchildren.  

Reflecting on this made me think of my three oldest children and their grandparents.  At the time of their birth, they had three living grandparents.  My first born was their first grandchild.  The news of my pregnancy was met with a joyful reaction from my mother, a hearty congratulations from my father-in-law, and a bland response from my mother-in-law, accompanied by a sour face.  Abruptly, her weekly phone calls stopped, indicating her lack of interest in the pregnancy or her yet-to-be born grandchild.  When my son was born, she declared her desire to be called by her first name instead of any pseudonym for Grandmother.  It wasn’t until her daughter was expecting her first child that I witnessed any emotion.  She squealed with manic delight when she told us the news, just pausing long enough to add that she wanted to be called, “Grammy”.             

A year later when we visited her home in Needham, she had replaced a photograph of my son with a picture of her daughter’s son…in the frame we had given her.  I didn’t understand why she could not buy another frame and display pictures of both her grandsons.  It was not just a random oversight because years later when there were five grandchildren, any image of my three children were absent.  Displayed on the refrigerator and around the house were just the pictures of her daughter’s children.  It seemed to be a confirmation for a brewing thought that my husband (and his children) was not as important because he was not her biological child.  Although I did not know it at the time, unreciprocated love toward a child plants the seeds of narcissism. 

This disorder grew within him, and developed into the need for control, and ultimately abusive behavior.  Although my children had a biological grandmother who adored them, my husband’s quest for maintaining control along with severing supportive ties, he marred my children’s relationship by creating animosity and fear.  He encouraged terror toward my mother’s dogs, who were barkers.  He would warn that a barking dog was a prerequisite to a biting dog, enforcing a high level of alarm anytime a visit to her home was planned.  

Upon our divorce, he forced a relationship with the parents of his girlfriend.  My children soon replaced their affections on her parents instead of their own biological grandmother.  Although my ex was no longer with the woman by the time her mother died, my children kindly attended her funeral.  Yet a few months later they refused to attend their own grandmother’s funeral.  My daughter, who was 20 at the time, sent me an e-mail on behalf of herself and her brothers stating they were not attending because she was not involved in their lives, the brief interaction was “not pleasant”, and she disliked her “lack of effort” to be a part of her life; either ignoring or not understanding her father prevented interaction, and encouraged hostility toward her grandmother.   

Despite my daughter’s harsh words, I only felt sympathy that she had developed into such a cold, heartless young woman, without the ability to see past what she had been programmed to feel.  I felt profound pity for her hateful words that bore no merit.  Considering her father had banned me from most of her life, her intense anger can only be attributed to what he had instilled into her developing mind for so many years.  His bitter revenge probably offered him satisfaction believing my children’s absence hurt me.  However, I told my children about the funeral for their benefit to pay their last respects.  I did not need their support.  

My three older children have been denied all biological ties, except for their father.  With so many adoptees seeking a relationship with their biological family, it is profoundly odd that my children limit their ties to one person.  But, since their father is a narcissistic sociopath, his desire is not uncommon.  He always craved utter equality, regardless if it was a boat, the size of a closet or the number of orgasms one should be allowed.  Therefore, it is not strange for him to deny his children a relationship with his biological grandmother, or mother for that matter, as he never enjoyed that relationship.  And that is just one manifestation seen in a narcissistic sociopathic individual.   

My youngest daughter was fortunate as she had a relationship with her maternal grandmother since birth.  Although her relationship with her paternal grandparents began late in life, I chose to foster that relationship so she could have some biological tie to her father, who died before she could meet him.  The saying that it is better to give than receive does not just apply to a tangible gift; it is putting someone’s needs before your own.  Doing so for your child demonstrates what it means to be a parent; undoubtedly a lesson handed down by a grandparent.  These generational life lessons of decorum create the foundation of becoming a loving and gracious adult.      

Trials On Television Vs. Reality

After experiencing the injustices in family court since 1996, I hoped that someday I could make a change in what was happening within our legal system.  At one point I was preparing to attend law school, anticipating position as an attorney would allow me to identify the continued abuse of the victims of domestic violence inside the courthouse. A change in my circumstances halted the funding of law school, where I’d have the luxury to pick and choose my cases.  Staying on that career path would incur hefty academic loans, forcing me to accept every case in order to payback these loans in addition to supporting myself.   I could not bear the thought of compromising my morals, values and ethics by possibly having to represent a batterer and destroy a family to satisfy my financial obligations.  So, despite my careful planning, I walked away from the legal profession.

Years later, I still find a great fascination with the law, specifically trials.  In addition to reading about true life crime (I’m a huge Ann Rule fan); I have become an avid armchair court watcher.  I barely missed a moment of the Casey Anthony trial, as well as the analytic programs in the evening.  The outcome was heartbreaking, but the reasoning was logical.  It was a chess game.  It was strategic.  It was not based on honesty…it was based on performances.  This was something I had learned from my divorce trial.  Sadly, the idealistic belief that our legal system is respected by all is not so.

When I heard that the Jodi Arias murder trial was going to begin, I was anticipating the start.  Preferring that to local programming, I began watching.  Jodi Arias is a 30 year old woman on trial for killing her ex-boyfriend Travis Alexander in 2008.  She stabbed him 29 times, slit his throat and shot him in the face.  After initial denials, Jodi admitted she killed Travis in self defense.  Although she allegedly stole a gun belonging to her grandparents, dyed her hair during the 100 mile drive to Travis, borrowed gas cans to anonymously fill her tank during the long trip, rented a car (insisting on an “inconspicuous” color) and manipulated the license plates, she denied her actions were premeditated.

To date, Jodi is in the midst of her testimony where she described Travis Alexander as an abusive, hypocritical Mormon man, who had pedophile tendencies.  There is not a shred of supporting evidence – no pictures, no journals, and no police reports.  Her robotic revelations reek of discrepancies and incredulous statements, none of which could be an excuse to stab a man 29 times, slit his throat and shoot him in the face.

I am particularly interested in this case because I was a victim of domestic abuse.  All I wanted was a traditional family lifestyle with my husband and our three children.  My needs were simple, and focused on conventional values and my children’s happiness.  But, I was married to a controlling abusive man who mocked religion and indulged the lifestyle of a single man.  Our relationship was very different than Jodi and Travis who appeared to enjoy a great deal of cohesive couple time and shared ideas.  Yet, Jodi’s accusation that Travis abused her, resulted in a vague description of an alleged strangulation evoking panicked thoughts of being unable to breathe. 

Experiencing the trauma of hands tightening around your throat does not allow one to cognitively reflect on the effects of being strangled - I know, because it happened to me.  When my husband was strangling me, I was unaware of anything, and was unable to move.  When he stopped, I was numb.  I barely remember getting off the ground and walking into our apartment.  The shock of seeing the marks on my neck jolted me into the reality of documenting the event by taking a few self-portraits.  One thing I remembered was later trying to pick out the gravel from our driveway that was embedded in the back of my scalp. 

Because of the inability of the Norfolk County Probate Court to understand all the components of abuse, even with the pictures, the judge said he did not believe I was strangled.  The unethical attorney representing my husband basically used the Jose Baez, a la Casey Anthony ploy.  She threw enough shit out to deflect the judge from the truth of the case…that I had been severely abused in every way possible.  Despite that, I was an exemplary mother; while my husband was a batterer and absentee father.  Because of her lies, fabrications and ranting, she won custody of my children for their father….who has damaged them beyond repair. 

If Jodi Arias is able to beat her crime using an abused woman defense, I would say that our system is brutally flawed. Jodi Arias could very well be given that “get out of jail free” card for her animalistic killing of Travis Alexander.  The verdict is not in, but it makes me angry to hear some of the analysis after the testimony and the anticipation of the “experts” who will provide support in Jodi’s claim of being a victim of domestic abuse.  This is making me feel that all the women I know who have been through similar situations and lost their children in the process have merely been swept under the rug because we did not stab our abusers 29 times, slit his throat and shoot him in the face. 

Is that what needs to be done in order to have experts recognize the effects from years of domestic violence?  Many women have avoided taking the law into their own hands because they are decent women who had a belief that our courts would recognize what they had endured, and make the appropriate recommendations instead of ripping their children away and giving them to their abuser.  Because I am a survivor…and a strong one at that…I have taken my own path in this journey for justice.  Although my children are destroyed, I have written a book as documentation with supporting evidence as to the gross mistakes made in Norfolk Probate Court.  I can only hope that the changes I wanted to make as a prospective attorney will be recognized as errors in the system, so the real abusers will face their deserved punishment, instead of the victims.

And what will happen to Jodi Arias?  The case is not over.  I am praying that she is not labeled as a victim of abuse, for if she is, it will denounce the real victim’s plight, and in fact, she will be getting away with murdering an innocent man, the same way my abusive ex got away with the freedom to continue his abusive ways on me and our innocent children.  And if Jodi does walk, she will be leaving the memory of Travis as an abuser who was ultimately murdered because of his “behavior”.  If so, shouldn’t other abusers share the same fate, instead of being given the right to continue to live and abuse their former wives and children as allowed within the halls of “justice”?