Sat in the courthouse.. again... never saw the judge.. again!
He's in violation of the temporary restraining order, and he's not having to take responsibility for any of his actions, so I really hope that at some point he is going to have to. This is getting to be a farce of the justice system.
The FCS report did come out, and it was determined that he stopped taking his meds in 2010, because he did not feel that he needed them anymore. So, the FCS counselor determined that he should have a psych evaluation in order to determine if he needed further care (which I think is a fabulous idea). He won't, so I hope that the court insists on it.
Granted, this all makes me look better, and makes him look like a shmuck, but, I still feel that this is going nowhere fast!
Thursday
Wednesday
Wednesday: PreTrial Settlement Meeting
So, his attorney wants to know if I'd be adverse to him taking out a life insurance policy on me.
Your damn fucking skippy I'm adverse to it!
Really?
Uhhh, sure! I want my spouse abusing, alcoholic hopefully soon to be ex husband to be allowed to take a life insurance policy out on me? Yeah, right!
But, other than that? I pretty much got everything else I wanted in the parenting agreement. He's not allowed to drink when he has custody of the children. I'm sure that won't stop him, but at least if he does, and I catch him, he would be in contempt of court.
Ok, we're finally moving along... finally. Essentially, he signed the agreement I wanted to sign a year ago. I have no idea why it took this long for him to sign the damn thing, but, here it is. Finally!
Ok, September 14th is the next pretrial hearing. Let's see what else that ass has to throw my way.
Your damn fucking skippy I'm adverse to it!
Really?
Uhhh, sure! I want my spouse abusing, alcoholic hopefully soon to be ex husband to be allowed to take a life insurance policy out on me? Yeah, right!
But, other than that? I pretty much got everything else I wanted in the parenting agreement. He's not allowed to drink when he has custody of the children. I'm sure that won't stop him, but at least if he does, and I catch him, he would be in contempt of court.
Ok, we're finally moving along... finally. Essentially, he signed the agreement I wanted to sign a year ago. I have no idea why it took this long for him to sign the damn thing, but, here it is. Finally!
Ok, September 14th is the next pretrial hearing. Let's see what else that ass has to throw my way.
Tuesday
July 26, 2011--Cutting the Kite Strings.
Dear Family,
Interesting that I still call you "the family", since I really don't consider you family anymore? I don't know what else to call you.
I've been doing so much reading on bullying and people, especially women, who go off the derech because of the high pressures put on them from the "frum" world. I find it especially disturbing how many women are mistreated because of the erroneous and misleading words that people find in Torah.
In other words... people mistreat others, and use Torah (or the bible, or whatever religious doctrine one wants to use) as a way to justify bad behavior.
I should just make that my mantra.
It's sad really. As the past month has gone by, I've seen several tragic events occur, and the one thing that I can't get out of my mind is the concept that people seem to do for show. They will give to others for show, they will do for others for show, they will make things for others for show, they will pay condolence calls for show.. but when it comes to doing something for another, quietly, without fanfare, they don't want to.
Why is that? Why is the concept of doing just for the sake of doing such a difficult one? And then, the question of course leads to that of modesty. Why does the idea of modesty fall on the woman. Is the man not required to be modest as well?
I've been filling out the necessary paperwork for the kids to go back to school in the fall, and I'm amazing and disturbed at the emphasis that it put on the "no internet, no tv" policy, but there is no policy on the "be good to others and be respectful to your parents" policy.
I've had this idea about speaking to the little girl's teacher about emphasizing derech eretz more than the parsha, but I don't think that this will go over well. Anyone have any thoughts about that? I would have, at one point, thought that my former parents would have truly pushed that concept, but no longer, since they don't seem to think that respect is a problem.
I'm disgusted with how the little girl speaks to me. She thinks that I'm her friend. I keep telling her how much I love her, and that I will never, ever be her friend. I'm her mother. I don't want to be her friend. Different concept for her, and one that she's not quite accustomed to. I love her, I always will and nothing that she will ever do will change that. I've also begun to explain to her the why and how of this divorce.
She asked me why I don't speak with my mother and father anymore. She's almost 10 ka'h and I am going to eventually have to explain it to her. I can't seem to push it off any longer, so, I sat her down and had a somewhat frank conversation with her; explaining how I always tell her that no matter what she does I will always love her.. and how my parents did not tell me that.
I know that the conversation made her uncomfortable, and that at some point she is going to go back to M and tell her that I said it. But the truth is there and it cannot be denied. My father had said several times that unless I continue with therapy, his heart would be hardened to me (even though it turned out that I wasn't the issue), and my mother had told me at one time in my life not to come home), so there it is. Out there in the open. No matter what my children do, no matter what they become, no matter who they become, I will always love them.
I liken being a parent to flying a kite. At some point the string can get quite long, but as a parent, you can always know that you've got hold of that string. My parents cut the string. I never will.
Interesting that I still call you "the family", since I really don't consider you family anymore? I don't know what else to call you.
I've been doing so much reading on bullying and people, especially women, who go off the derech because of the high pressures put on them from the "frum" world. I find it especially disturbing how many women are mistreated because of the erroneous and misleading words that people find in Torah.
In other words... people mistreat others, and use Torah (or the bible, or whatever religious doctrine one wants to use) as a way to justify bad behavior.
I should just make that my mantra.
It's sad really. As the past month has gone by, I've seen several tragic events occur, and the one thing that I can't get out of my mind is the concept that people seem to do for show. They will give to others for show, they will do for others for show, they will make things for others for show, they will pay condolence calls for show.. but when it comes to doing something for another, quietly, without fanfare, they don't want to.
Why is that? Why is the concept of doing just for the sake of doing such a difficult one? And then, the question of course leads to that of modesty. Why does the idea of modesty fall on the woman. Is the man not required to be modest as well?
I've been filling out the necessary paperwork for the kids to go back to school in the fall, and I'm amazing and disturbed at the emphasis that it put on the "no internet, no tv" policy, but there is no policy on the "be good to others and be respectful to your parents" policy.
I've had this idea about speaking to the little girl's teacher about emphasizing derech eretz more than the parsha, but I don't think that this will go over well. Anyone have any thoughts about that? I would have, at one point, thought that my former parents would have truly pushed that concept, but no longer, since they don't seem to think that respect is a problem.
I'm disgusted with how the little girl speaks to me. She thinks that I'm her friend. I keep telling her how much I love her, and that I will never, ever be her friend. I'm her mother. I don't want to be her friend. Different concept for her, and one that she's not quite accustomed to. I love her, I always will and nothing that she will ever do will change that. I've also begun to explain to her the why and how of this divorce.
She asked me why I don't speak with my mother and father anymore. She's almost 10 ka'h and I am going to eventually have to explain it to her. I can't seem to push it off any longer, so, I sat her down and had a somewhat frank conversation with her; explaining how I always tell her that no matter what she does I will always love her.. and how my parents did not tell me that.
I know that the conversation made her uncomfortable, and that at some point she is going to go back to M and tell her that I said it. But the truth is there and it cannot be denied. My father had said several times that unless I continue with therapy, his heart would be hardened to me (even though it turned out that I wasn't the issue), and my mother had told me at one time in my life not to come home), so there it is. Out there in the open. No matter what my children do, no matter what they become, no matter who they become, I will always love them.
I liken being a parent to flying a kite. At some point the string can get quite long, but as a parent, you can always know that you've got hold of that string. My parents cut the string. I never will.
Monday
July 25, 2011
G1,
Ok, let's review you moron:
Water bottle in 100 degree heat: VERY IMPORTANT
Bathing suit in 100 degree heat: NOT SO IMPORTANT.
Idiot.
You seriously need a keeper... or a lobotomy.
Ok, let's review you moron:
Water bottle in 100 degree heat: VERY IMPORTANT
Bathing suit in 100 degree heat: NOT SO IMPORTANT.
Idiot.
You seriously need a keeper... or a lobotomy.
Friday
Are you Serious? Really?
Dear G1,
A water bottle? really? you can't get your own daughter a water bottle?
This morning, you called me, after I'd been at work for an hour and a half, and the children were in your custody, that you didn't have the little girl's water bottle. So buy her another one! If you are her father, it is your responsibility to make sure that your children have basic safety needs. Like WATER.
You throw money at her, in spite of the fact that you don't pay your child support the way you are supposed to. You buy her clothing and gifts, and take her out to eat and give her whatever she wants and neglect the little boy to the point where he is acting out because he knows that you don't love him the same! But you cannot get your fat lazy tuchas to the store and buy your daughter a new bottle of water when the temperature is going to be over 100 degrees? Are you kidding?
Stop going out to eat you fat pig! Then, maybe you would have a dollar to buy your daughter a bottle of water! Maybe, just maybe, if you weren't so damn incompetent as a human being, you would have realized by now that you are a lousy parent.
You had the sheer, absolute nerve to call me at work, to tell me that you couldn't get her a bottle of water. What exactly, did you expect me to do about that? Tell me!!???
You are so close to A and R and C and S. Ask them to pay for the little girl's bottle of water. They seem to pay for everything else!
It's obvious that they are making all your other decisions for you, and answering your emails and running your life!
A water bottle. Seriously?
A water bottle? really? you can't get your own daughter a water bottle?
This morning, you called me, after I'd been at work for an hour and a half, and the children were in your custody, that you didn't have the little girl's water bottle. So buy her another one! If you are her father, it is your responsibility to make sure that your children have basic safety needs. Like WATER.
You throw money at her, in spite of the fact that you don't pay your child support the way you are supposed to. You buy her clothing and gifts, and take her out to eat and give her whatever she wants and neglect the little boy to the point where he is acting out because he knows that you don't love him the same! But you cannot get your fat lazy tuchas to the store and buy your daughter a new bottle of water when the temperature is going to be over 100 degrees? Are you kidding?
Stop going out to eat you fat pig! Then, maybe you would have a dollar to buy your daughter a bottle of water! Maybe, just maybe, if you weren't so damn incompetent as a human being, you would have realized by now that you are a lousy parent.
You had the sheer, absolute nerve to call me at work, to tell me that you couldn't get her a bottle of water. What exactly, did you expect me to do about that? Tell me!!???
You are so close to A and R and C and S. Ask them to pay for the little girl's bottle of water. They seem to pay for everything else!
It's obvious that they are making all your other decisions for you, and answering your emails and running your life!
A water bottle. Seriously?
Thursday
Dear Boat,
Dear Boat...
I know that you're going to hate this...
But sometimes, I feel like a mistake. I know that you think I'm not. But that's not going to change for some time. It's something that's ingrained.
You are probably one of a very few that hasn't made me feel that way...
Can I keep you? Even for a short while?
I know that you're going to hate this...
But sometimes, I feel like a mistake. I know that you think I'm not. But that's not going to change for some time. It's something that's ingrained.
You are probably one of a very few that hasn't made me feel that way...
Can I keep you? Even for a short while?
Tuesday
Dear Sarah,
Sarah:
There are two family members that I will refer to by name in this blog. You are one of them.
The first time I got engaged, I wanted to break the engagement. You told me I couldn't because it would be breaking a committment, and that it wasn't a good thing to do, to break committments. I remember thinking then that was the stupidest comment I'd ever heard you make. I was wrong. And considering some of the absolute crap that's flown from your mouth over the years, having one thing be more stupid than another is truly an achievement.
I remember the day I was told to be prepared to lose every friend I had. You however, were never a friend, then again, I never considered you family either.
To be honest, I wasn't sure that I really had any friends left to lose! But, I was wrong. I still had friends, well, I guess they were friends in their own eyes, but they weren't truly my friends, since they were so fast to walk away when things became difficult to me.
I'm reading this amazing book by Fara Margolese called "Off the Derech", where she discusses the potential reasons for so many observant Jews going off the derech (path). She posits that the potential reasonings is perhaps the concept of the bigger the jew one wants to be, the more one has to reject and be nastier to another.
I found that out first hand. *I* cannot be exposed to my "friend's" children. It matters little that I was the victim... as long as I pretend that all is fine, and that I dress like everyone else, act like everyone else, and behave like a good, suppressed "little woman", I can have all the friends I want. But, soon as I start to show my vibrancy and light, bye bye friends!
I can't wait to see what happens when PMS and basic human sexuality hits these homes. If fairly simple questions like "why would a "frum" woman dress like that?" sends some of my "friends" into a tizzy to the point where they won't look at me or even speak to me in public.. I cannot imagine the "mommy, where do babies come from?" question doing!
The funniest thing, well, perhaps not funny, sad even more? Is that compared to some of the frummest of the frum in Lakewood Eir Hakodesh, New Jersey, dress far less modestly than I do! My clothing are not so tight that it's obvious whether or not I'm wearing a bra! And, in spite of the ludicris, obnoxious, and frankly none of their damn business nature of the question as to whether or not I wear a wig, I DO cover my hair, ALL of it. Not one single, itty bitty strand shows. Not one. Primarly, because I have thyroid disease, and so I haven't got any hair!
Does that mean I'm more frum or less? I think that's a question I need to ponder...
But, because I don't wear stockings in the summer, and my shoes have heels that are very high.. and I always look put together, and frankly, I wear less makeup than Barnum and Bailey... *I* am different.
I am proud of who I am. Maybe that is why I am your target, because you are ashamed of yourself.
I used to love getting those boxes full of your old makeup. The used eyeshadows, the half used lipsticks, the little perfumes that you did not like. Even fully grown, I looked forward to your emptying out your medicine and makeup cabinets every year so that I would get a small token of whatever junk you had for me...
I was pathetic.. holding out for a little symbol of your attention...
I lived across the street from you for four years, and you came into my home one time. You ignored every single invitation to my home, though you went to my other family members for meals all the time. The only time I saw you come to my home, was the second shabbos after I was assaulted... when I was in hiding... and when you came snooping around for information.
Everyone knows you are a gossip... you just proved that fact to yourself. And when I wouldn't open the front door, because I wasn't home (I was actually at the neighbor's home), you went around to the back door, sneaking around in the wet grass, and knocking on the door that is never used, old and rusted..)
After shabbos, you sent me an email, with details, telling me how the first time you came the paper was out, and the second time the paper had been brought in. How the first time the storm door hadn't been locked and the second time it was, how you'd looked in the windows and the house didn't look empty... and how you just did not believe the things that I had said happened the day of the assault (in spite of the doctor's report, the police report, the witness report, and the pictures), and how you hoped that for my sake, and the sake of my beautiful children, I would "get the help I needed". Oh, and yes, I still have the copy of the emails you sent. I'm saving them for posterity.
By the way, I also have the email your husband sent me after our little meet and greet at the butcher store in May of this year. That was delightful.
Thanks for the advice. I'm taking it. I'm getting the help I need to stay away from you and the rest of your family. Feel free to take your own advice.
And there, by the grace of God, go I...
There are two family members that I will refer to by name in this blog. You are one of them.
The first time I got engaged, I wanted to break the engagement. You told me I couldn't because it would be breaking a committment, and that it wasn't a good thing to do, to break committments. I remember thinking then that was the stupidest comment I'd ever heard you make. I was wrong. And considering some of the absolute crap that's flown from your mouth over the years, having one thing be more stupid than another is truly an achievement.
I remember the day I was told to be prepared to lose every friend I had. You however, were never a friend, then again, I never considered you family either.
To be honest, I wasn't sure that I really had any friends left to lose! But, I was wrong. I still had friends, well, I guess they were friends in their own eyes, but they weren't truly my friends, since they were so fast to walk away when things became difficult to me.
I'm reading this amazing book by Fara Margolese called "Off the Derech", where she discusses the potential reasons for so many observant Jews going off the derech (path). She posits that the potential reasonings is perhaps the concept of the bigger the jew one wants to be, the more one has to reject and be nastier to another.
I found that out first hand. *I* cannot be exposed to my "friend's" children. It matters little that I was the victim... as long as I pretend that all is fine, and that I dress like everyone else, act like everyone else, and behave like a good, suppressed "little woman", I can have all the friends I want. But, soon as I start to show my vibrancy and light, bye bye friends!
I can't wait to see what happens when PMS and basic human sexuality hits these homes. If fairly simple questions like "why would a "frum" woman dress like that?" sends some of my "friends" into a tizzy to the point where they won't look at me or even speak to me in public.. I cannot imagine the "mommy, where do babies come from?" question doing!
The funniest thing, well, perhaps not funny, sad even more? Is that compared to some of the frummest of the frum in Lakewood Eir Hakodesh, New Jersey, dress far less modestly than I do! My clothing are not so tight that it's obvious whether or not I'm wearing a bra! And, in spite of the ludicris, obnoxious, and frankly none of their damn business nature of the question as to whether or not I wear a wig, I DO cover my hair, ALL of it. Not one single, itty bitty strand shows. Not one. Primarly, because I have thyroid disease, and so I haven't got any hair!
Does that mean I'm more frum or less? I think that's a question I need to ponder...
But, because I don't wear stockings in the summer, and my shoes have heels that are very high.. and I always look put together, and frankly, I wear less makeup than Barnum and Bailey... *I* am different.
I am proud of who I am. Maybe that is why I am your target, because you are ashamed of yourself.
I used to love getting those boxes full of your old makeup. The used eyeshadows, the half used lipsticks, the little perfumes that you did not like. Even fully grown, I looked forward to your emptying out your medicine and makeup cabinets every year so that I would get a small token of whatever junk you had for me...
I was pathetic.. holding out for a little symbol of your attention...
I lived across the street from you for four years, and you came into my home one time. You ignored every single invitation to my home, though you went to my other family members for meals all the time. The only time I saw you come to my home, was the second shabbos after I was assaulted... when I was in hiding... and when you came snooping around for information.
Everyone knows you are a gossip... you just proved that fact to yourself. And when I wouldn't open the front door, because I wasn't home (I was actually at the neighbor's home), you went around to the back door, sneaking around in the wet grass, and knocking on the door that is never used, old and rusted..)
After shabbos, you sent me an email, with details, telling me how the first time you came the paper was out, and the second time the paper had been brought in. How the first time the storm door hadn't been locked and the second time it was, how you'd looked in the windows and the house didn't look empty... and how you just did not believe the things that I had said happened the day of the assault (in spite of the doctor's report, the police report, the witness report, and the pictures), and how you hoped that for my sake, and the sake of my beautiful children, I would "get the help I needed". Oh, and yes, I still have the copy of the emails you sent. I'm saving them for posterity.
By the way, I also have the email your husband sent me after our little meet and greet at the butcher store in May of this year. That was delightful.
Thanks for the advice. I'm taking it. I'm getting the help I need to stay away from you and the rest of your family. Feel free to take your own advice.
And there, by the grace of God, go I...
Friday
Mirror Mirror on the Wall...
I am just like you. Your mirror image. Perhaps that is why you hate me... because you hate yourself?
It has been almost a year. And still, you hate.
I am your child.
You walked away from me, as you always said you would.
I tell myself that you are dead to me. But you are still with me, a pain that aches deep inside of my heart.
I'm so tired of being abused..I'm so tired of having all my childhood fears being suppressed
If you have to leave, I wish you would just leave my heart... within me, your presence still lingers
These wounds won't seem to heal, and the pain the pain is still too real. There is too much that time cannot erase. As your daughter, I held your hand, a small reminder that you would never let go. But you did. Rejection in its finest form. I did not go off the derech until you pushed me. And had you not pushed me, you'd still have all of me
Such a "daddy's girl". I was captivated by you. You were my hero. And now I feel like a remnant. A poltergeist, bound to this earth by you, and the light that you've left within me. I don't sleep because you haunts my dreams.
It has been almost a year. And still, you hate.
I am your child.
You walked away from me, as you always said you would.
I tell myself that you are dead to me. But you are still with me, a pain that aches deep inside of my heart.
I'm so tired of being abused..I'm so tired of having all my childhood fears being suppressed
If you have to leave, I wish you would just leave my heart... within me, your presence still lingers
These wounds won't seem to heal, and the pain the pain is still too real. There is too much that time cannot erase. As your daughter, I held your hand, a small reminder that you would never let go. But you did. Rejection in its finest form. I did not go off the derech until you pushed me. And had you not pushed me, you'd still have all of me
Such a "daddy's girl". I was captivated by you. You were my hero. And now I feel like a remnant. A poltergeist, bound to this earth by you, and the light that you've left within me. I don't sleep because you haunts my dreams.
Thursday
An Open Letter to Leiby Kletzky A"H
You were never related to me by blood... well, I guess because you are a Jew, we are both from the same family, and so technically, we are related. There is a place for you here, in this creation of mine.
I did not know that you had gone missing, so I did not pray for you, but in your family, you became the center of the world. In this country, all over the world, you became a centerpiece. People davened for your safe return, they cried tears of mercy to God above that you should return safe, and unharmed, and yet, your mother, she should find some peace, probably knew in her heart, that you would not return, and she probably knew that you were gone from her, never to hold again in her arms, never again to hear your voice.
Mine once told me not to come home.
What angers me, more than what happened to you, and more than the senseless tragedy behind it all, is the outpouring of grief.. because it seems so insincere. People that have, without thought, without conscience thrown me, and those like me to the curb, are crying out your name, as though you could help them now (are you the messiah now?), and truthfully, you could have ended up just like me one day... because as a child, I was just like you.
Perhaps not perfect, obviously not male... but I was someone's child. There were times I got lost too, and had to ask strangers for directions...
Maybe that's what I am now. Lost. I asked for directions and got pushed out of the car. No one cries for me. No one davens for me. No one collects money for me, or asks where I am, or goes onto Facebook and laments about how God could have done such a thing, and what a monster the man who did this to me is. And I am still suffering on this earthly plane of existence...
There are more of me out there, than there are of you...
I am so sorry for what your family has to go through, and as a mother, I feel such pain for yours. I am so thankful for what I am, and for what I have, and I greet every morning with a blessing of gratitude that I do have what I do... but I am also so sad that there are those that eat at the religion buffet; to pick and choose how righteous they wish to be, how respectful and to whom.. how nice, and when.. and when God should be taken out of the convienient little backpack they carry with them.
How self righteous I sound... I need to get off my soapbox.. it is eating me alive.. and it is not healthy. Perhaps this too, is one of the reasons I am lost. And perhaps, again, why I am choosing not to be found.
I don't want to end up in small pieces of myself. Staying here, might endanger my sense of self, of who I am, my soul, and I could end up in pieces, rather than a whole of myself. Staying on this soapbox makes me feel like one of "them"...
I did not know that you had gone missing, so I did not pray for you, but in your family, you became the center of the world. In this country, all over the world, you became a centerpiece. People davened for your safe return, they cried tears of mercy to God above that you should return safe, and unharmed, and yet, your mother, she should find some peace, probably knew in her heart, that you would not return, and she probably knew that you were gone from her, never to hold again in her arms, never again to hear your voice.
Mine once told me not to come home.
What angers me, more than what happened to you, and more than the senseless tragedy behind it all, is the outpouring of grief.. because it seems so insincere. People that have, without thought, without conscience thrown me, and those like me to the curb, are crying out your name, as though you could help them now (are you the messiah now?), and truthfully, you could have ended up just like me one day... because as a child, I was just like you.
Perhaps not perfect, obviously not male... but I was someone's child. There were times I got lost too, and had to ask strangers for directions...
Maybe that's what I am now. Lost. I asked for directions and got pushed out of the car. No one cries for me. No one davens for me. No one collects money for me, or asks where I am, or goes onto Facebook and laments about how God could have done such a thing, and what a monster the man who did this to me is. And I am still suffering on this earthly plane of existence...
There are more of me out there, than there are of you...
I am so sorry for what your family has to go through, and as a mother, I feel such pain for yours. I am so thankful for what I am, and for what I have, and I greet every morning with a blessing of gratitude that I do have what I do... but I am also so sad that there are those that eat at the religion buffet; to pick and choose how righteous they wish to be, how respectful and to whom.. how nice, and when.. and when God should be taken out of the convienient little backpack they carry with them.
How self righteous I sound... I need to get off my soapbox.. it is eating me alive.. and it is not healthy. Perhaps this too, is one of the reasons I am lost. And perhaps, again, why I am choosing not to be found.
I don't want to end up in small pieces of myself. Staying here, might endanger my sense of self, of who I am, my soul, and I could end up in pieces, rather than a whole of myself. Staying on this soapbox makes me feel like one of "them"...
Wednesday
September 2010
September 17, 2010
Dear Mommy,
As a mother, I can understand how this might be a very hard letter for you to read, but today I decided to file for divorce. Well, perhaps "decided" isn't the best word to use, as I'd basically determined that filing for divorce was the only avenue for me to take. I knew I was living in a fishbowl (as one of the LOR {Local Orthodox Rabbi's} had put it) and this particular goldfish was looking green around the gills. I guess the family decided for me. Rejection is a powerful thing.
I can't understand why you don't love me. Maybe I just was never pretty enough, or good enough, or thin enough, or enough of an earth mother. I know that "R" is all of those things. She's damn near perfect. Maybe that's why you spend so much more time loving her. Maybe that's why "S" has his emotional affair with her... maybe in the end, that's why there is an end.
You want to know why I'm angry... there are so many reasons, I just don't know where to start. But, maybe the past 35 years is a good place.
I've been learning a lot about domestic abuse. Being who I am, where I've coming from and knowing where I am going, the concept of getting beaten up is not a new one. But, it doesn't happen to me. However, I had thought that it anyone was going to do it, they would at least apologize afterwards. Then again, I look at how Abba treats you, how Zaidy treated Bubby, and how basically the entire treats everyone who isn't part of the family, and I have one of those "duh" lightbulb moments. Yep, I get it. But, I still don't quite understand why I thought I would get an apology.
Nope, not here. No apology had come, at least, not a sincere one. The night of the assault he called after I'd told the uncle that I was expecting an apology (at the very least) and got a "canned" voice mail "i'm sorry" message. But that was it. I'm still counting my blessings that I have a witness, because without her, I am sure that my police report would have mysteriously "disappeared" into the annals of "somewhere". It's amazing how the frum community has the power to do nothing when they want to.
I did get some sort of "if you had called your father he would have had come up and broken every bone if your body" in therapy, but that was as close to a real honest apology as I got. So, divorce it was. I mean, who could continue to live like this? Maybe you could have, but I was going to be stronger than you, Mommy. And I am going to set a better example for my children, especially for my daughter.
Two years had gone by and we hadn't had sex. Did you know that? He had told me that he thought he could be gay. Gay!? In the frum community? You know who that would get blamed on; the wife of course. Something I must be doing wrong... You had told me that a year ago. You told me I was emasculating him, that by asking him to get a job, I was making him feel like less of a man, and that when *I* needed support, I wasn't going to get it.
And yet, do you know, that until he beat me up, I would have stayed? That's how little I thought of myself? That I would have stayed with that man, living with that misery, until I had died, withering away to nothing...under any circumstances. And the marriage counseling.. or the farce of the marriage counseling that we'd had, or rather, I had been blackmailed into by my brother? What a fiasco that was! Every single word I said, twisted, and then repeated to my family... and there was no way that anything I did or said at that point would have made me look good. So, I stayed silent, and you thought I was a drug addict, because it was easier for you to think that the wrong was with me, than with your perfect son in law, or your perfect daughter in law...
Why is the blame always with someone not of your blood? Does that mean that you might think that the bad blood is genetic? It's not you know.. it's not genetic.. it IS changeable. All you have to do is be willing to admit that there is a problem; and then change it. Exactly as I'm doing. Whether you like my choices or not, I'm finding that I'm finally, really quite comfortable with what I am going to do.
And, then, I found the blog... the divorcebusting.com blog. With your son in law's public "AOL" email address, describing, in detail, his perception of the past few months of our life, as skewed as it was. Humiliating to think that I had been working my behind off, two, something three jobs, taking care of the finances, the house, and barely myself, and he was sitting around blogging and "networking", instead of looking for work. And I know that it hasn't been easy. Yep.. I've been depressed... but then again, who wouldn't be. Gay??? Really?
So, again, divorce it was. But, it's not going to be pleasant. This much I know...
Here goes... take a deep breath.. and jump.. out of the fishbowl, and right into the mouth of the shark.
Next up.. Dear "R",
Dear Mommy,
As a mother, I can understand how this might be a very hard letter for you to read, but today I decided to file for divorce. Well, perhaps "decided" isn't the best word to use, as I'd basically determined that filing for divorce was the only avenue for me to take. I knew I was living in a fishbowl (as one of the LOR {Local Orthodox Rabbi's} had put it) and this particular goldfish was looking green around the gills. I guess the family decided for me. Rejection is a powerful thing.
I can't understand why you don't love me. Maybe I just was never pretty enough, or good enough, or thin enough, or enough of an earth mother. I know that "R" is all of those things. She's damn near perfect. Maybe that's why you spend so much more time loving her. Maybe that's why "S" has his emotional affair with her... maybe in the end, that's why there is an end.
You want to know why I'm angry... there are so many reasons, I just don't know where to start. But, maybe the past 35 years is a good place.
I've been learning a lot about domestic abuse. Being who I am, where I've coming from and knowing where I am going, the concept of getting beaten up is not a new one. But, it doesn't happen to me. However, I had thought that it anyone was going to do it, they would at least apologize afterwards. Then again, I look at how Abba treats you, how Zaidy treated Bubby, and how basically the entire treats everyone who isn't part of the family, and I have one of those "duh" lightbulb moments. Yep, I get it. But, I still don't quite understand why I thought I would get an apology.
Nope, not here. No apology had come, at least, not a sincere one. The night of the assault he called after I'd told the uncle that I was expecting an apology (at the very least) and got a "canned" voice mail "i'm sorry" message. But that was it. I'm still counting my blessings that I have a witness, because without her, I am sure that my police report would have mysteriously "disappeared" into the annals of "somewhere". It's amazing how the frum community has the power to do nothing when they want to.
I did get some sort of "if you had called your father he would have had come up and broken every bone if your body" in therapy, but that was as close to a real honest apology as I got. So, divorce it was. I mean, who could continue to live like this? Maybe you could have, but I was going to be stronger than you, Mommy. And I am going to set a better example for my children, especially for my daughter.
Two years had gone by and we hadn't had sex. Did you know that? He had told me that he thought he could be gay. Gay!? In the frum community? You know who that would get blamed on; the wife of course. Something I must be doing wrong... You had told me that a year ago. You told me I was emasculating him, that by asking him to get a job, I was making him feel like less of a man, and that when *I* needed support, I wasn't going to get it.
And yet, do you know, that until he beat me up, I would have stayed? That's how little I thought of myself? That I would have stayed with that man, living with that misery, until I had died, withering away to nothing...under any circumstances. And the marriage counseling.. or the farce of the marriage counseling that we'd had, or rather, I had been blackmailed into by my brother? What a fiasco that was! Every single word I said, twisted, and then repeated to my family... and there was no way that anything I did or said at that point would have made me look good. So, I stayed silent, and you thought I was a drug addict, because it was easier for you to think that the wrong was with me, than with your perfect son in law, or your perfect daughter in law...
Why is the blame always with someone not of your blood? Does that mean that you might think that the bad blood is genetic? It's not you know.. it's not genetic.. it IS changeable. All you have to do is be willing to admit that there is a problem; and then change it. Exactly as I'm doing. Whether you like my choices or not, I'm finding that I'm finally, really quite comfortable with what I am going to do.
And, then, I found the blog... the divorcebusting.com blog. With your son in law's public "AOL" email address, describing, in detail, his perception of the past few months of our life, as skewed as it was. Humiliating to think that I had been working my behind off, two, something three jobs, taking care of the finances, the house, and barely myself, and he was sitting around blogging and "networking", instead of looking for work. And I know that it hasn't been easy. Yep.. I've been depressed... but then again, who wouldn't be. Gay??? Really?
So, again, divorce it was. But, it's not going to be pleasant. This much I know...
Here goes... take a deep breath.. and jump.. out of the fishbowl, and right into the mouth of the shark.
Next up.. Dear "R",
Dear N,
July 6, 2011Dear N...
I hope that you have a beautiful shabbos and again I wanted to wish you once again a happy birthday.
I don't know when you'll hear from me again. I hope you'll feel comfortable keeping me informed about you and your family however. I hope the years are kind to you, and that you get a tremendous amount of nachas and brocha from your children.
Please do not anticipate hearing about me or my successes. What you may hear from my children or "S" is more than likely inaccurate. Know that I've met most of my goals. Now that my doctorate is just about done, I may begin law school...I may not. I would like to work with women in the frum community who have been abused and neglected both by their husbands, families and by the community as well.
You probably won't understand this; honestly, I've learned that whatever anyone has heard over the past few years has had the family spin put on it. Essentially, the initial decision to cease communication with me and certain members of the family was not mine, rather it was up to those individuals. The decision to continue with that decision however, very much is mine and I take ownership of it. At no point in any given time was I given any free or unfettered ability to discuss the "family" situation without censure or judgement, in spite of what you may or may not have heard, though opportunity was presented, I was shot down and not given a healthy, fair or unbiased opportunity to speak. And so I simply chose to say little or nothing. It was excessively easy, and still is, for members of the family to jump to judgement and assume that I was always in the wrong. I recognize that because I was silent, the opportunity to be nasty and hateful was there, and in part I made it easy to turn against me, but I remind you, that I was family.
Everyone in this world has choices that they have to make, and as I've stated several times over the past year, I've been content and satisfied with mine. I can look at myself in the mirror and know that I'm doing what is right in my heart, and for my children and myself. Consider this letter a good-bye of sorts. Something happened to my husband a few years ago. Though I've been forced to take blame for quite a bit, whatever caused this change, I will not take responsibility for. I did not have the opportunity to seek closure, to bury my husband, to say good-bye to the man that was my best friend, that I'd fallen so deeply in love with I couldn't imagine taking a breathe without him at my side. What made the hurt so much more, was that those that called themselves family disappeared as well, and then said it was because I had pulled away.
A nephew was born to me this year. I do not know his name, or what he looks like. I found out from an utter stranger that he was born/ and when the bris was. I have come to realize that I will never again be part of that family, and have decided that in acceptance, I truly do not wish to be part of that family.
But, I am going to offer to you, the one family member that showed enough respect to me, as a human being, as a creation of G-d, and as a sibling, family member, etc., I was never given: the opportunity to say good-bye. This divorce will come to a head in March, whether Steven continues to drag it (and my children) through court or not. One way or another, there will come a time when this is over, and when that time comes, I am going to continue to rebuild my life, as I have been doing, on my own, disavowing any knowledge of the family as they've so blithly done to me. I will raise my children to make open minded choices as best I can. Unlike those that raised me, I will fully accept and embrace my children for who they are; whatever their choices may be, and from those that raised me I have learned both how, and how not, to parent.
I attribute my ability to remain sane throughout this process in part to my excellent friends and loved ones. The other part I attribute to our parents. They raised me to be true to my convictions, to believe in myself even when no one else is, and to walk with pride. Like the mythical Phoenix, I am stronger because of this, I have walked through the fires of hell and have risen again reborn and more beautiful, but though I am no longer consumed by anger, I do not forgive.
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