Strangely...Proud of Myself. A horrible tale of enough already.

It is difficult to gather the strength these days to just deal, you know? In perusing the internets the other day I happened upon my daughter's Myspace. The spot in which I found out that she has been in contact with "the sperm donor". I have mentioned (I think) here and in my other blog on how my husband adopted her after being her true father from the time she was a baby. Intermittently, the "sperm donor" has fallen into our lives because I refuse to hide from him. It is with great regret that I admit here that I am guilty of dating an abusive drug addict. In my defense, I was young and stupid. Very stupid, because I broke up with my beloved husband, at 18, to date this "rock star wannabe bad boy". It was the 80's and I was very, very stupid...like I said. I was trying to break out of the "good girl, good grades, no fun" stereotype...and, instead, it very nearly broke me. Getting back to the story, I left him when I was pregnant with Nicole and had no contact. Due to evidence I had and his failure to respond to repeated attempts to contact him, his rights were severed and my husband adopted her. He found us when there was an article in the paper about her winning the spelling bee. He attempted to call several times, always leaving messages around the time she got home from school. He stupidly thought that perhaps I hadn't told her about him...only I had. And it only succeeded in scaring her. Now, he has contacted her through her Myspace page. They have been conversing for months and, truth be told, I don't care anymore. Sure, it hurts...but one can only be hurt so many times until one stops caring. In fact, this little "conversation" between them (him, of course, suggesting that I have exaggerated and that he is really a "swell" guy who was kept from his child...and then telling her to "protect her ass" and not tell me about it) has made it easier for me to not care. Some of you may not agree with me in this gradual letting go of my mothering duties when it comes to her, but the not liking is far surpassing any pity I may have had. It is still as if I run a hotel where she can eat and sleep and have things paid for without doing one damned thing to help. No chores where once she knew there were chores to be done. The constant "I'm 18 now..." has run its course. Tonight she called me to tell me she had found her Prom dress... Pity she ran through the money I gave her for her birthday and now cannot afford a dress. I'm done underwriting... I really don't care that very much.

While I Was Out...

...every rule was broken, nothing was kept clean (well it was, but only because my dad stayed with her), and her immaturity became very apparent. Well, I always knew it but my dad and others did not.

She is "engaged"... she is "in love"... of course I am not supposed to know this but I do, because she is not good at living a secret life. And I am tired of it and really don't want to deal with it.

And I weep for a little girl lost, and the years we spent teaching her about actions and the regrets/reactions they can cause. The years we wasted. The husband I lost because of it. Insurmountable today. I count the days until I could easily say,"It's time for you to move on" because these actions, this indifference, this inability to understand what happened...on her part... are killing me. Slowly. To be on 200 mgs daily of Toprol, 100 of Tambocor and Diovan HCT and still show up with a blood pressure reading of 140/90 and a 120 heart rate is ridiculous and hateful and hurtful. I am trying. Yet this, this is too much. This knowing that she could "fix it". Not really fix it because fixing it would be my beloved being back next to me at night instead of so very gone. But she could admit the situation. It would, perhaps, break her at first...but I would be there. She is still mine. I still love her, but I don't like her very much right now. I haven't in a long time.

And I find myself caring even less these days... Want to throw your life away at 18? Go for it. Want to not take a scholarship to a good school and instead go to a community college to be close to a boy who, the odds are good, you won't remember the name of in 30 years? Why not. Want to destroy your mother with your indifference to her pain...and your own? Who am I to try to change that?

I am so very done. Done. Done. Done.

Because Someone Cared...

Because someone (and you know who you are and you have a new person who adores you so very much) cared enough to read and not judge. To just be. To see it for what it is... I have the (momentary and I am sure I will have moments of regretting this, but I'm doing it to try and save my sanity). Because of that, here is what is nagging me, killing me, hurting me. Here is why the anonymous comments on the other board wound more than they normally would. Here is why I hang in the balance between to love unconditionally and to rage, and scream and exact retribution... Here is what happened that weekend. I am cutting and pasting because I fear I will go insane if I have to process the words enough to type them again. I know this will probably horrify and sicken some... more of the train wreck theory. I know some will probably judge, but we were a normal family, he was a wonderful, loving man. He was my everything. He adored his children above all else... and what happened here should not have happened. On two counts. One, my daughter should have realized there are limits to lying and two, the detectives and the police station should never have gone on word. Not ever. And I am left feeling guilty, and sick that I ever met him again because he didn't deserve this. No one does. And it was our own child...

> > We "caught" her online on a Thursday night. Not a big deal, she's a kid, but she was supposed to be doing something else and we monitor internet usage here so that I know what the kids are up to because she is dramatic and can end up in messes sometimes. Anyway, Leonard blew up and was really pissed off (rightfully) because she blatantly lied to us, told us she wasn't online and then when we "saw the evidence", made up a stupid story about how she had been raped. She screamed it out and then crumpled into a ball on the floor. We were freaking stunned. And I told her she had to go to the cops, she said it had been too long (she told us 6 weeks, and then we found out from a friend that she had said 4 weeks, and then 2 months to others...and this was all in an effort to get her exboyfriend to feel sorry for her and take her back.) and I said we owed it to the community to report it. That it might stop others from being hurt. And she said she really couldn't remember when it was and that it happened in a dark parking lot by an ATM blah...blah...blah... So I forced her to go to the police. Both Leonard and I took her. We started believing the story, and he was so sick and enraged and wanting to kill someone . We were crying over this and gave them her car to check out, and she finally came up with a date. The next day they wanted her to come in and do an artist's rendition. I took her in but she couldn't come up with anything (I was beginning to doubt the whole story because something didn't "mesh" and also because she has made up huge lies, including abuse stories, in order to not have to admit a stupid little mistake in the past) so they said they wanted to "talk to her" and that I wasn't allowed in because she was age of consent ( I later found out this is not true). While this was going on my poor husband had spent the whole day looking up sex offender lists for the area, broken hearted, talking to friends that were cops etc.. An hour later the "detective" comes down and says,"We've had a turn of events..." and I thought, this is where they tell me she made it up and etc... only, that wasn't what they said... They said,"She says it was her dad...and that he was really drunk and probably won't remember it." WHAT THE FUCK? Nothing like having something like that happen to make you realize that your daughter's problems are bigger than you thought. I'm trying to keep this short, but the detective wanted to talk to Leonard and I said that I had to get her to my dad's (I knew she was lying because one, on the night she picked we had messed around and he was passed out, two, he would never do that because on some level he was frightened of her (because of the abuse allegations against us before)and he was the most moral person on earth, three, the place she said it "happened" is less than 6 feet from where my head lays at night, four, we have a dog that barks to holy hell when someone so much as hugs one of the kids (us included) five, he wasn't drunk that night and I only slept 2 hours... 6. He had never, in our life together, even forced himself on me. I couldn't believe she could do this , only I couldn't scream at her in the police station because I didn't want to make a bad situation worse. So I said I'll be back after I get a baby sitter and I will send my husband up. I wanted to puke so badly. I dropped off Nik, got a babysitter for James (after Leonard gave him to me in the station parking lot...the image of him still rips me where my heart used to be). Anyway, they didn't wait for me. He denied it. They hounded him and said they knew he did it for over an hour. They told him that she was so "descriptive" that they were going to charge him and he called me on my cell as I was driving back up. They walked in,while he was on the phone with me and took his cell so he couldn't talk to me...this beautiful, gentle loving man. I couldn't believe they were doing this to us...we were just a freaking normal family with a crazy daughter. I demanded to see the detective, he said basically,"Too bad...I've got the go ahead and" get this "kids don't lie about these things." I gave him her past history, including the case number when she accused us of abuse, the name of her counselor etc... and told him that I couldn't believe they would take the word of a liar over the word of a man who hadn't had so much as a speeding ticket in 10 years. They asked me how much he drank. I was flabbergasted. He was a normal drinker but got busted for a DUI at the age of 22. I couldn't believe this was going to send him to jail. They wouldn't let me see him so I went out and sat in the parking lot. I couldn't leave him there. Apparently, they looked into what I had said, realized they had no evidence and released him. It was over, they were also heavily liable. Typing it I still can't believe it. We went home and I left Nik with my dad, hoping (and knowing) she would recant. And she did, the next morning. She thought if she said he was drunk they would let him off... How does one do that to their DAD??? They didn't let him off and it had made the situation worse. But, at least it was over. Only my dad called the detective and he wasn't in. I told him to just take her to the station and they would call him in. He didn't. He took her on a mini vacation instead (God, I am still pissed at him for that--we were suffering) and when he stopped by to pick up her bathing suit he gave Leonard a hug and said,"I would still love you--- you're my son---even if you had done this..." and a seed was planted. Leonard believed that people would still think he was capable of that...even though the charges were pending and it looked like it would be dropped. He (Leonard) didn't want her to get in trouble for filing a false police report ( I so very much did want in trouble because I was sick of it after 7 years) and blamed himself for her lies because he was "a bad father". He was the best father, The very best. My heart broke to hear him blame himself and, at that moment, I was done with her. He had given his all, adopted her and loved her only to be kicked in the teeth again and again. He wanted her back home, and I did not. I was fed up. I was going to focus on him for once. Us...and James. Only I didn't get that chance because he killed himself at 12:38 the next day after calling me and telling me that he knew he was going to hurt me, that he didn't want to and to tell the kids how proud he was and how much he loved them. He drove to the parking lot, called, and was gone. And I still need him so badly. And I can't believe she still won't admit to mistakes, will still lie to my face and call me the crazy one. Still look for pity and sympathy with tales of how "bad off" we are...how I never cook dinner...That's why I started that blog but I am so afraid to write the whole story there because we were just a normal family of four, until this. She is under psychiatic care but it doesn't seem to help and he should still be here. And the fact that the story got out kills me. What is worse is that she got sick in December with the cysts and they told me, after a pelvic exam, that she was a virgin and they had to break it to get in... There was the fucking proof that the detectives could have used instead of killing my husband. It's all a mess, eh? I wouldn't blame you for walking away from both blogs, but this is why when anonymous thinks I should be moving on, I just can't. It sucks. In so many new ways each day. Thank you for letting me vomit all of this out. The past 6 and a half months have been hell on earth. Destroyed by my daughter, helped out by the police here in town. I hate it. When I see her cuddling on the couch with someone I hate and it... and feel sorry for him. She is so much like my mom it scares me. The ability to compartmentalize and fantasize and not live in reality.


There it is...most of it. There are minute details I left out in the interest of just getting it out. Living with this, putting it on paper, wasn't enough. The world needs to know not only how wonderful my husband was, but how he suffered those last few days, how I can say without a doubt that it wasn't depression. Why I can't just "get over it"... Why it is tough to love and be so very angry with my daughter at the same time...and why I miss him so much and why replaying those days over in my head keeps me from breathing some days... His trusting and beautiful face that day when I picked up James...and his words,"What has she accused us of now..." There are days when it really is all too much.

I don't blame a one of you for walking away. But it does happen in normal families. We were a normal family. I was a PTA mom, a businesswoman. We had dinner together every night. He coached the soccer team and liked to play Texas Hold'em...and we loved and laughed... and it will never be enough.

Over reacting...Maybe...Maybe not

This is such a crazy, weaving road to walk down. One I wouldn't even wish on my worst enemy and she knows who she is.

My daughter has a new boyfriend. I know I never delved deeper into what happened last summer, but I still can't bring myself to share it here. Suffice to say, In my opinion this is not a good idea. Not when she hasn't even admitted to herself or the counselor exactly what happened last year, and what she now has to deal with. But, I digress.

He is a very nice kid. He looks like he's 28 but I've checked and he really is a senior at a local high school, is very polite, helpful, calls home when he's over here etc. He bought her tickets to a baseball game after standing 3 hours in line and a dozen roses for her birthday.

Here's my problem. It is the PDA's here in the house. One, I guess I am a prude but when I was 18 I was not laying on the couch with my boyfriend in my parents' house watching t.v. or draping myself over him. Two, she has a little brother and he's told me he doesn't like it. Three, and this is the tough one, it drives me crazy...after what we dealt with last year. Last year she told us (to get out of trouble for being on line when she wasn't supposed to, go figure) that she was raped. It ended up not being true and only something she had made up to get attention from an old boyfriend at school. We now know (after the loss of everything in my life) that it was not true because 1. She admitted to making all of it up 2. After her medical issues of December it was determined she is a virgin. 3. There is no way possible that anything could have happened on the nights she said. The mistake I made was believing her even though she has said untruths (never anything quite this bad) before. If you read this closely enough, I am drawing lines here. Lines that will show exactly why this is killing me. I hope somebody gets them and understands why that is so.

Yesterday she asked if he could come over. I was running a fever, in my jammies and just all around not feeling good. I said no, at first. They were out doing some campaigning for a local candidate. I then rethought that I didn't want her out and about, not knowing where she was. Yes, she is 18, but maturity wise she can be 10 at times. I called her back and told her fine. They came over. She didn't ask if she could make dinner, didn't do the dishes and basically laid around all day with him, goofing around while I did all that. I wish I could be as strong as I want to be but when I bring things up with her it becomes a,"Why are you so upset with my mommy?" moment and I just can't take it. Grrrrrrr.

The Overness of it All...

What do you do when there is nothing to hang onto anymore? When grief counselors can't help? When the one person who you truly needed in life is gone? What do you do then?

I kept kidding myself that it would get better, even as it got worse with each passing day. Today, I can't even type this without the pain. I need him. I just want him back. That is all.

I can't keep going at this when nothing attempted helps.

Things that I Currently Hate...

I need to purge. I need to attempt to get this out of my system. I know I kind of left off my last entry without finishing it, but I'm still afraid of putting all of "that" out there.

I hate that my MIL and SIL think they "know" how I feel. Ummmm...no. No you don't. Not at all. Please don't give yourselves that much credit and please leave me alone.

I hate that my father came over today and attempted to get me to "move on". It was exactly 6 months yesterday. I am swiftly coming to the conclusion that I will ever move on. Newsflash, people who love me and "care" (yes I know they care, but I have to do this for my sanity), DROP IT. Let me be. I am not harming myself or my children. Leave me the hell alone with your opinions, and your assumptions. And your telling me what I "should" be doing. The most wonderful part of my life. My love. My mate. My best friend is gone. The man who saved me from myself is no longer here. Sorry I'm not fitting in your timeline.

I hate that I hate this house, this town, these neighbors who look at me like some oddity every time I walk out the door. Especially the one who came over to tell me all about depression and suicide. For the very last F*CKING (funny how I find it hard to swear on this, my private blog) TIME HE. WAS. NOT. DEPRESSED. and yet I cannot tell the whole story to people like that, because then would come the judgement against my daughter and I don't really want that either.

I hate that my daughter is almost 18 and can't seem to make a single decision for herself, even though we didn't really coddle her. I hate that she can get in my face over a Scholar's Day at her university of choice because I made her go even though she was tired...UM...HELLO?!? Grow the hell up already. They are offering you a full scholarship for showing up dudette. My mouth is freaking killing me and I don't want to do this either, but it's your shot at your future. If you can't do it for yourself, or for me...do it for your father, the one who was so proud of your academic accomplishments... and, Fates forgive me, the one you kicked in the teeth time and again with your stubborness... the one your actions, it cannot be denied, literally destroyed. No, it was his decision...but if that ball hadn't been started because you couldn't admit a mistake to us... OH screw it.... I just hate this.

I miss him, and I am really not that strong...

...in fact, I am not strong at all. And that worries me. I am afraid of the future without us in it. I can't and don't really want to try to do this on my own. That is a horrendous thing to say and/or post, but there it is. This week has been tenuous (my hold on hanging in there) at best. No, I could never ever, not ever, put my children through losing both their parents after a wonderfully "normal" childhood.

My son is big on feeling safe and being secure. All of that has been ripped away from him and he hangs on to me ferociously and I do feel like I am failing. Instead of to do lists, I could be writing things not done lists. My mind, most days, is trapped on memories in the past that then bring on heaving, wrenching, ugly sobs. Not the quiet tears that I know many people think I should have progressed to by now. I. NEED. Him. God, if you had only known this man. He loved me. He cared for me. He thrilled me. There is no strength here...only dully plodding through life, after waking up and reliving the three most horrendous days of my life. I keep attempting to write exactly what happened that weekend here. It was the weekend we decided to buy land and build. Now that doesn't make sense, does it? None of it does.

To begin the story, I would have to tell you that we didn't take our daughter's problems seriously enough. (This is where I mention that I might delete these posts at a later date because I love her and I don't want to hurt her but she figures so hugely in this). What we thought originally was a severe case of spoiled brattiness was something more. She craves attention, needs for people to care for her. The normal attention that parents give to their children is just not enough for her. Which led, 7 years ago for her to tell a friend that we would throw her down the stairs when her room wasn't clean. The friend told a parent. The parent told the principal at her school (we were new to the school) and before you know it, CPS was at our door. Luckily, after speaking with me, observing her happy, well cared for brother, inspecting her room (which was a mess, and we were told that children who are beaten for unclean rooms usually have spotless rooms) and realizing it was the only disaster area in the house, they found no cause for child removal, charges etc. But, it broke my heart. And my husband's. He had adopted her when she was 8, after being her daddy from the time she was a baby. He had chosen her. And she had rejected us both, in favor of attention. We put her into counseling, and the end result was that "your child is spoiled. She is used to getting her own way and will stop at nothing to obtain it. She is, at this time, unable to admit to mistakes." I still have the paperwork. She was in counseling for a year and a half, considered helped, and the sessions ended. I should have never done that.

I am exhausted this evening. I don't wish to leave you hanging but I don't have the mental ability to relate the rest of the tale tonight. This blog is the dark side of the story, as if there is a bright side. I have to spill it out. I have written it on paper and burned the paper...written it again, and burned it again. It is almost as if it is a penance. Stupid Catholic upbringing.