Showing posts with label I am always tripping over him I swear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I am always tripping over him I swear. Show all posts

Thursday, November 15, 2012

The Mr. Wrong Diaries


I’m getting serious now.


I have this friend that I’ve known practically forever.  She married Mr Wrong when she was too young and, in a nutshell, he was an abusive jackass from day one.  There.  Even after they split up, he was constantly pounding on her front door and showing up at her workplace, hounding, assaulting, and tormenting her.  He was an angry, scowling, belittling, cruel, and violent kind of creep, and she was terrified of him. 


Let’s call her Lily.


Lily was too afraid to call the police or even tell anyone what was happening because she knew that would just make Mr Wrong even MORE angry, so instead she tried whatever she could to keep him calm.  For years she tried to handle it all by herself and for years she suffered alone with it. 


Sometimes people would notice things weren’t right.  They’d see Mr Wrong storming around.  They’d hear Lily crying.  They would ask Lily about it when Mr Wrong wasn’t nearby, but Lily would always say things were fine when things were definitely NOT fine.  She was ashamed of the way things were and felt like maybe there was something wrong with HER because of the way Mr Wrong treated her.  She didn’t want anyone else to see her the way Mr Wrong did, so she tried to act like everything was normal…. because when she pretended things were okay, everyone else thought things were okay, and then things kind of felt okay, okay?


Yeah.  It was complicated. 


But, even more complicated….


They had a child together before they split up.  Let’s call the baby Daisy.  Daisy was adorable, chubby, and such a happy little thing!  Mr Wrong—who didn’t pay child support or daycare or contribute a single penny towards the child for a long, long time (until the child support officers caught up to him, of course)—used that child as an excuse to stalk and berate Lily.  She could never, NEVER get away from him. 


Somewhere along the line early on, Lily got some secret legal advise behind Mr Wrong’s back.  She was told to write down everything Mr Wrong did to her and the baby, to keep a record of it all to use against him some day.  So, she did.  She amassed a huge box full of journals detailing all her interactions with Mr Wrong.  However, years later, she found out that her journals were useless and couldn’t be helpful in court against Mr Wrong because the only kind of proof that the court wants to see is police or medical reports, and Lily had none.


Disgusted, Lily boxed up her diaries and gave them all to me.  She said she couldn’t stand to ever see the damn things again because she felt like they had kind of betrayed her.  She had poured all her misery out in those little books all those years, thinking she was doing the right thing and that those books would swoop in and save her one day…. but they didn’t.  Instead, they left her alone in battle with Mr Wrong all over again, just like she had always been, and she hated them for it.


She said I could read them if I wanted to, she didn’t care anymore.  I didn’t want to for a long time, but eventually curiosity got the best of me and I broke into the box of books.  And I have never been the same since.  My heart physically hurts, you guys.  I can hardly stand thinking of my friend and her bubbly baby going through shit like that!  Domestic violence and emotional abuse is never pretty, everyone knows that, but here in my hands I have a blow-by-blow account of it, spanning over a decade.  I can’t believe no judge would accept this as evidence for Lily against Mr Wrong!!!!  


I’m going to share snippets of a few of the many, many entries here in Lily’s own written words (with names altered to protect the innocent—and the guilty).  Tell me what you think about the court system ignoring all of this either in the comments below or in email, as I know a lot of you prefer.


Domestic violence is not always like Law & Order, chock full of black eyes and restraining orders.  Here’s what abuse more often looks like….



SNIPPET #1 (written one day in the Summer of 1997 when Mr Wrong flew into one of his many rages in front of Lily and baby Daisy while they were still living in the same house and Daisy was about eight months old)


“I don’t think I will ever make it out of his grip alive.  He is getting more and more enraged over little, little things.  I don’t know what to do.”….

“I’m not ‘allowed’ to touch his things anymore in case I somehow break them.”…. 

“He started yelling at me and getting in my face, saying, ‘you will treat my things with respect!’ and ‘if I come home and find my things ruined, you will be SO SORRY!’”…. 

“I didn’t break and ruin any of his things.  How many times do I have to defend myself on that?”…. 

“He had his finger pointing in my face.  He was yelling on and on about what a terrible person I am.  He said I am ‘pathetic’.  He said I am ‘hopeless’.  He said I am ‘just a bitch’.  He said I am a ‘fucking idiot’.  He said I am ‘stupid’.  He said I am a ‘moron’.”…. 

“He told me repeatedly to ‘fuck off’ and he told me all our problems are all my fault.”…. 

“He said that I ‘don’t deserve’ his ‘attention’ and I ‘don’t deserve’ his ‘respect’ and that I will never get it from him.”…. 

“He said I have nothing ‘important’ or ‘interesting’ to say.”…. 

“During his rampage I was feeding [Daisy] some cottage cheese, and right there in front of her, he kicked her Donald Duck toy across the apartment and it hit a wall by the front door.  She burst into tears, with cottage cheese falling out of her mouth, tears running down her cheeks, and her arms up by her face, shaking in fear!  I scrambled to get her out and comfort her.  He didn’t feel bad, he didn’t stop to see if she was okay, he continued his yelling and accusations and went past us into the kitchen and kicked Donald Duck around some more until it broke!”….

”He told me that he thinks I don’t love [Daisy], that I was only comforting her to make myself look good and to feed my ego!”




SNIPPET #2 (written in the Spring of 1998, eight months after Lily and Mr Wrong had been separated, and the day baby Daisy had just had surgery in the hospital):

”He followed us home and while [Daisy] was sleeping off the anesthetic in her crib, [Mr Wrong] was pulling me around and trying to talk me into having sex with him!  He offered me money for it!  That makes me so sick.  He leaves us dead broke, then thinks he can get my pants off by waving money in my face.  This is not the first time he has tried this!  That is his opinion of me?”….

”After all that has been happening and his not paying child support, the only way [Daisy] and I will get money is for me to have sex with him?  We don’t need the money if that’s how we have to get it!  I am not a prostitute!”….

”I kept bluntly saying no and he kept asking for it.  He wouldn’t stop!”….

”He said he could ‘rape’ me if he wanted to.”….

”He even offered me $100 to just drop my pants and let him have a look!”….

”Then when I made it clear I didn’t want to be poked, tickled, or otherwise touched by him he started making fun of me.  He brought up all the physical things that are ‘wrong’ with me.  Then he said that he knows that a lot of the things he said and did to me during our marriage were ‘physical and emotional abuse’, but that I ‘had it coming’.  (I could just scream!)  He said that he knew when he was doing it that it was ‘wrong’ and that he ‘should stop’, but he didn’t because I ‘deserved it’.”….



SNIPPET #3 (written one day in the Summer of 1998, a year after Lily and Mr Wrong had separated):


”[Mr Wrong] came over unannounced again today.  He kept grabbing and touching me and trying to talk me into sex.  He pinned me to the floor, got on top of me, and was trying to pry my legs apart, all in front of [Daisy].  I fought and kept yelling no, but he wouldn’t listen or stop.”…. 

“Then he kept trying to kiss me on the lips.  When I guess it finally became clear that I wasn’t going to give in, he said something mean about my weight and then kicked my stuff across the room.  I could just puke!”….



SNIPPET #4 (written one day in the Summer of 1998 when Mr Wrong was in Lily’s house to, supposedly, have a visit with Daisy who was one and a half years old):


”[Mr Wrong] refused to leave me alone.  He kept sneaking up behind me and jabbing me in my sides.”….

”It didn’t matter how many times I told him to stop it, he just kept doing it.  He pulled me to the floor and dug his fingers in my sides—it is very painful, he just digs his fingers in my sides as hard as he can and grinds them in me and ignores my crying, my telling him it hurts, and my telling him to stop it!”….

”I hate myself for not punching him in the face.”….

”[Daisy] kept shouting ‘Stop it! Stop it!’”….

”’It wouldn’t hurt if you didn’t struggle,’ he said.  ‘Don’t fight me!’”….


SNIPPET #5 (written the morning after the previous snippet):

”I woke up today with bruises all up my sides from what [Mr Wrong] did to me yesterday.  I’m still in pain!  He has no business touching me!”….

”I am SO ANGRY!”….




SNIPPET #6 (written one day in the Summer of 1999, two years after Lily and Mr Wrong had separated, and the day after Lily had told Mr Wrong to stop talking about her body in a degrading way because it made her uncomfortable):


”[Mr Wrong] told me he is mad at me for telling him my breasts are none of his business.  He said it was ‘shitty’ of me.  He told me he is a ‘smart’ person and ‘smart people should never be questioned’.”….

”He yelled at me every time I said a word.  He said ‘I can’t have a conversation with you if you talk!’”….

”He told me to never say it is none of his business again, because when I did that, I was being ‘disrespectful’ and ‘discourteous’ to him.”….



SNIPPET #7 (written one day in the Summer of 1999, two years after Lily and Mr Wrong had separated, and when Lily was having trouble with Mr Wrong stalking her):


”Today [Mr Wrong] called my workplace and my chiropractor’s office looking for me.  When the receptionist at the chiropractor’s office told me he had called, I figured something terrible had happened, so I called him back.  But he had called me there just to tell me he wanted me to go out to dinner.”….

”When I got home, my caller ID showed he had called [my home] 5 times this afternoon in addition to calling my workplace and my chiropractor!”….



SNIPPET #8 (written one night in the Fall of 1999, when Mr Wrong was in Lily’s house, supposedly, to visit Daisy who was two years old):

”[Mr Wrong] kept telling me and [Daisy] again and again that he is ‘evil’ and a ‘monster.”  He actually put his face right into [Daisy’s] face and told her he is a ‘monster’.”….

”He was saying he can foresee a day when [Daisy] will understand what he is and will want to kill him for it!”….

”And he said ‘in five years, we will be friends or I will be dead’.  I can only assume he means suicide.”….

”He kept trying to hug me.  He kept talking about my body.  I was trying to hide my body under couch pillows again so he couldn’t see it.”….



SNIPPET #9 (written one night in the Fall of 1999, over two years after Lily and Mr Wrong had separated, and when Mr Wrong kept hiding in the dark to startle Lily outside her house and Daisy’s daycare night after night):


”[Mr Wrong] snuck in the dark and followed me.  I didn’t know he was there until I turned around to find him behind me, glaring at me with a really frightening look on his face.”….

”A chill ran right through me and I felt like running.  He looked furious and I couldn’t think what I might have done to piss him off.  I felt trapped in a spider web.”….

”But it turned out [Mr Wrong] was just following me to ‘scare’ me.  Mission accomplished!”…. 



SNIPPET #10 (written one night in early 2001 when Mr Wrong was at Lily’s house, supposedly, to visit Daisy, who was three years old):


”[Mr Wrong] said he threatened [an acquaintance] with a baseball bat and hid the phone so [the acquaintance] couldn’t call 911 during ‘the beating’ and now [Mr Wrong’s sister] is ‘afraid’ of him and thinks he is ‘a monster.’  That’s what [Mr Wrong] told me while sounding all proud of himself, acting like being seen as ‘a monster’ appeals to him.”….

”He told me not to tell anyone and told me he would come after me too if he ever hears back from anyone that I told them what he said.”….



Wow.  Can you believe the legal system just dismissed all of that because it was written in journals instead of police reports?! 


That was just ten diary entries.  Ten out of hundreds and hundreds of them!  That was just a small sampling of the earlier stuff Lily and Daisy went through.  I haven’t even gotten to the more recent diary entries yet, because I could only stomach reading through the first couple of books on the pile, but I do know that in more recent years, things were really no better for Lily and Daisy at the hands of Mr Wrong…. although Daisy’s school did end up calling the police over red flags they picked up on regarding Mr Wrong’s behavior, and that changed the dynamic somewhat.


Why am I telling you about this?  Well, because it dawned on me that just because Lily’s journals couldn’t help protect her from Mr Wrong within the legal system like she had thought they would, that doesn’t mean they can’t still be helpful.  What’s that saying?…. If you can’t be a good example, at least be a horrible warning.  (Or something like that.)  Maybe by talking about it here, someone in a similar situation will be helped by it and then it won’t have been for nothing.


You guys, if you get the feeling someone you know is in an abusive, controlling, or otherwise twisted relationship, you are probably right.  And, if she is, she likely feels that reaching out for help will only make things worse and that it’s best if she just handles it by herself.  Don’t just ASK her if things are okay, because you probably won’t get an honest answer:  GET HELP.  Just do it.  Do whatever you can to help her get out.  She needs you, even if she can’t say so.


If you, yourself, are in an abusive relationship, please, PLEASE get help.  If he is hurting you, threatening you, degrading you, scaring you, stalking you, or doesn’t understand that no means no, YOU NEED TO GET AWAY FROM HIM.  Tell someone who can help protect you and whose statement will carry weight in court—a therapist, a doctor, or the police—but also tell your friends or family members as well, because the more people you have in your support system, the better. 


One of the things I read in Lily’s journals that really crushed me was how much her friends and family disliked Mr Wrong, so they would just scatter like cockroaches whenever Mr Wrong showed up because they didn’t want to be in his company.  That meant that, over and over again, Lily and Daisy were abandoned and left alone with him, and that’s when the abuse would occur.  Mr Wrong knew Lily didn’t have much of a support system to protect her, and that’s why he kept doing those horrible things.  Because he could. 


Abusers can’t do what they do best in a crowd, they need their victims isolated.  If someone is mistreating you, keep your support system close, tell people what is going on (even if your abuser tells you no-one will believe you—as Mr Wrong kept telling Lily), and always remember that what he does to you does NOT define who you are. 


Abusers are just assholes.  Plain and simple.  It’s not YOU, it’s THEM.  They don’t outgrow it.  They don’t change.  They don’t magically wake up one morning with newfound respect for you and realize what shitbags they have been.  They just keep abusing people and convincing themselves that their victims ‘deserve’ it….  Like Mr Wrong, who just two weeks ago called Lily his “adversary with benefits” (in front of a court-ordered therapist!!!!—can you believe that????) when she attempted to confront him about the times in the past when he sexually assaulted her.


Wow.


Assholes never learn.






© Coracabana

Thursday, March 29, 2012

A picture a day keeps the doctor away. (I wish!)


Aaaaaaaand now for another update on this year’s Project 365. Because of recent events, I am WAAAAYYYYYYYY behind schedule on posting these. I’m going to try to catch up today, so hold on. Here we go!


Day 74 (2012-03-14) ~ It’s not easy being…. well…. you know….




Day 75 (2012-03-15) ~ It was St Patrick’s Day this week, so I painted a shamrock (well, kinda!) with a flashlight in the dark.




Day 76 (2012-03-16) ~ Hey, I like crude humor too, alright? But not enough to go writing it on a door! Some graffiti just baffles me. ????




Day 77 (2012-03-17) ~ We went downtown to watch the Chicago River dyed green in honor of St Patrick's Day. It's a big, BIG deal around here and thousands upon thousands of green clad people line the river banks watching the dye being poured into the water and then mixed in by a speed boat zooming through it. It was an unusually warm day with bright, blinding sunshine and temperatures at about 80 degrees. Unlike last year when everyone was bundled up in their winter coats, this year everyone was in shorts, tank tops and flip-flops! AWESOME!!!! As the river was in the process of being colored, I was busy snapping pictures of the boat zipping by when I noticed how cool and swirly the water looked in the glare of the summery sun and I quickly shot a picture of it.




Day 78 (2012-03-18) ~ The bangles.




Day 79 (2012-03-19) ~ *sigh* I would love to tell you the story behind this picture, but the censors (as I told you about yesterday) won’t let me. You’ll just have to invent your own description of this one. Sorry.




Day 80 (2012-03-20) ~ My poor, poor kiddo came down with the flu. We spent the morning at the doctor's office and then I spent all the rest of the day hovering over her on the couch, trying to bring her fever down. *sad sigh*




Day 81 (2012-03-21) ~ All of a sudden--*BOOM!*--Spring has sprung. There are blossoms everywhere and the air is fragrant, sweet and delicious. *le sigh*




Day 82 (2012-03-22) ~ A shortcake in the making. We have had temps in the 80's and suddenly my strawberry plants started to come back to life. Yay!




Day 83 (2012-03-23) ~ I forgot to eat before we got to the movie theater.... so my stomach was growling all through The Hunger Games! :-( The kiddo had only just started recovering from the flu and was feeling very shaky, but she tolerated my taking her picture anyway. Because she’s AWESOME!!




Day 84 (2012-03-24) ~ A mini storm was a-brewin’ while I was up on my rooftop trying to get a picture of the sunset.




Day 85 (2012-03-25) ~ One way or another, I’m gonna find ya, I’m gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha…. I dunno, it just kind of sums up the week in a way, right?




Day 86 (2012-03-26) ~ Twiggy!




Day 87 (2012-03-27) ~ She’s a brick…. house! Only had time for a quickie picture this day. I shot it while waiting for my kiddo by a wall.




Day 88 (2012-03-28) ~ Tulip Sniper!! The tulips are out in full force now.




And, there! Now we’re caught up. *whew!* I’m about 24% of the way through the project so far. More on the way soon!




© Coracabana

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The explanation


I’ve put a lot of thought into how to compose this particular post. It’s a tricky one. It feels a bit like jumping hurdles while juggling knives, blindfolded in a minefield, actually. But it needs to be done.


Before we go any further though, there is something that must be addressed before all else: I love my child. I will do anything for my child. I would never harm my child. Nor would I ever strive to make things unnecessarily difficult, stressful, unhappy, or complicated for my child. That wonderful, amazing, precious girl is the frosting, sprinkles, ice cream and lit up birthday candles on the cake of my existence and I always, ALWAYS do right by her.


My child does not read this blog. She does not read Scope’s blog either. Yes, she follows our blogs, but only because when she started her own blog a year ago, she wanted to follow someone (because bloggers do that) and she didn’t know any other bloggers she could follow yet. So, she followed us and we followed her. And that is where her bloggy connection with us ends.


She created a grand total of three posts (all about her favorite film maker) and collected four followers (Scope, me, and two friends from school) before she lost interest and abandoned her blog. Blogging just isn’t her thing, just like Facebook isn’t her thing and texting isn’t her thing. She is much more at home with her nose in a book.


Despite the concrete fact that my child will never read what I am about to write, I have no choice but to say the following to her here:


My dear beloved Wednesday, if by some freak reason you ever find yourself reading this sentence, STOP IMMEDIATELY. What follows is not for your eyes. You are not welcome to read beyond this point. I love you dearly. (Now, please go clean your room!)


Okay. Now that that is out of the way, let’s move on.


Some of you might have noticed that both Scope and I shut our blogs down briefly last week. I saw that there was a sweet theory floating around that we were busy concocting snazzy matching blogs. Awwwwww. You have no idea how much I honestly wish that were true! :-) The reality though is that something happened. Or, I should say, someone happened.


Again.


I’m not supposed to name names or describe descriptions, but I will tell you that the person who has previously stalked me on my eBay account and hounded me on Facebook, etc, etc, etc, has finally found this blog and has decided to start lurking here. Honestly, I’m not surprised by that. After the eBay and Facebook incidents, I figured it was just a matter of time until he popped up here too. He seems to like lurking wherever I go. However….


This is the internet. People are free to read what they will. So, if the lurker wishes to stay, that’s fine. (Who knows? Maybe he will learn a thing or two and start to understand a certain 15 year old girl, who chronically mystifies him, a bit better.) I am not interested in playing games with the lurker. He can read or not, I really don’t care. I’ve got much bigger fish to fry. And 500 blog posts to censor!


Yep.


You see, the lurker doesn’t like my blog, so he emailed it to several really, really, really, really, REALLY important and powerful people. (Really). To make a long story short--and because I’m not allowed to talk about it--now there are a few rules I have to follow when blogging. These rules have been set by someone else to make my blog “safe” for my 15 year old child to read.


(Although, as discussed above, she does NOT read it.)


(Confusing, I know.)


So….


To abide by the rules, one by one, all my blog posts are being edited and re-published with the following changes:


1. All previous mentions of the lurker have been deleted. (And after this post, I do not plan on mentioning the lurker here again.)


2. All previous status updates regarding a certain legal situation have been erased.


3. All previous four letter words have been replaced with words such as heck, rear, darn, fiddlesticks, and meanie. (Although, I want to point out that my child is not three and any time she gets online or turns on the TV or walks down the hallways of her high school, she is exposed to language far, far worse than anything I ever said here.)


4. All “flirty”-ness has been hacked away. Or at least I have attempted it. (Admittedly, this is the toughest make-your-blog-Kindergartener-safe law to abide by because the definition of “flirty” is incredibly subjective.)


5. All previous mentions of my one-in-a-trillion spinal cord malfunction which I was expected to not survive but walked away from with permanent nerve damage and a unique diagnosis that actually made my Neurologist famous (yes, really) in the medical community have been obliterated.


There.


One by one, as I go through them, scrubbing and scouring, the 500 blog posts will return with nary a hint of anything that I was told would “scare” or offend…. well…. anybody.


I have strong emotions about this, of course. I mean, censoring a blog that maybe a whopping—ohhh—dozen people read seems a bit hypocritical for someone who is so fanatically fond of talking about protecting his own Constitutional rights. To the lurker, on this point, I would just like to say “how we treat those whose opinions we don't agree with says more about us than about them.”


(Which I think translates to ‘peekaboo, I see you’ in the language of Blogese.)


(If the lurker thinks about it long enough, he’ll get it.)


I have concerns with what has happened, of course. I do not think that making my blog Sesame Street approved has any impact on my child who never reads it. The only person it impacts is me. However, I am choosing to make the changes…. with the exception of one: My nearly-lethal spinal cord trauma.


I have been doing a lot of thinking about this during a lot of sleepless nights lately and I have decided to eventually re-post my writings about my blood clot because it is nobody’s business but mine if I want to discuss it here or anywhere. A blood clot the size of a toddler’s fist ruptured in my spinal cord. I survived. I lost all feeling in half my body. I incurred painful nerve damage that will likely never disappear. I fought for a long, long time to re-learn how to walk and become independent again. And, one day a year, on the anniversary, I mention how nice it is to be alive on my blog.


Why shouldn’t I?


If I had died, don’t you think that on the anniversary, my child would want to express her sadness in some way? And who on earth could ever possibly deny her that? So, then why is expressing happiness at being alive any different? The suggestion that celebrating my survival by writing a blog post one day a year might “scare” my child and make her remember what happened is infuriating. The suggestion that I ought to try to hide all hints of it from my child, even though we still live with it every single day, is offensive. Should we tell breast cancer survivors not to wear pink ribbons because it might “scare” their children? I think we would get the stuffing kicked out of us if we did!


No amount of pretending things are normal will ever erase what happened from my child’s memory. It is a very real part of her, just like it is a very real part of me. Nothing will ever change that. It is our history. It is what we have lived.


My child experienced nearly every step of my recovery with me. While I was in the hospital, she made me get well posters with her friends in school. She came by with my mom and dad to visit me every afternoon. She ran up and down the hospital hallway cheering out loud for me as I took my first steps with my big, metal walker. If that was really such an inappropriate thing for a child to witness, I would think that someone in the hospital would have asked for her to be removed. But they didn’t.


They pointed out my progress to her on the MRI pictures and she would squeal, “Mommy! You’re doing so good!” They high-fived her as she tagged along to physical therapy with me. Once, they even let her hold my safety harness and walk me “like a puppy” as I was learning to walk without the use of the walker. She was delighted! How many kids get to say they walked their mom like a dog?! ;-)


Maybe I am being a little oversensitive about what was said. But I think I have a right to be! I did the very best I could do to raise my baby and recover from the life-changing health trauma, simultaneously. That was NOT easy for either of us. And, frankly, I think I did extremely well. But no matter what I say or don’t say, no matter what I blog or don’t blog, our history will never evaporate. It’s a part of me. It’s a part of my child. It’s part of what makes us who we are.


Defeating death and paralysis, no matter how you do it, via blood clot, cancer, or something else, IS something worth celebrating. No-one can EVER take that right from me. I earned it.


*stepping down off the soap box*


Alrighty, lurker. That's it. I’m done acknowledging you here. Please stop putting all your free time into searching for posts containing the words “lawyer” and “bag” on this blog (I have a tracking code. I can see exactly what you are doing here and when.) Surely, you have better things to do. Like maybe fixing your relationship with a certain teenager?…. Just a thought.


To all my regular readers: Fun posts are in the works despite the new rules. Don't worry. I even have some hilarious old family pictures from the 70's to show you soon!


:-)






© Coracabana 2012