I read a lot of self-help books during our marriage. I thought that if I couldn’t change him then I could change myself so that he might want to improve in return. Books like Fascinating Womanhood and The Excellent Wife promised that if I were totally submissive and obedient then he would be the husband of my dreams. Little did I know but my submission was his ultimate aspiration. He expected to be obeyed without question, by myself and the children, a character trait I learned years later was in the top ten qualities of a domestic abuser.
Early in our marriage he would erupt over the slightest of indiscretions. If a child left the bag to a loaf of bread open, he would completely overreact and punish the perpetrator as if he had just stabbed the dog. If I stepped in to challenge his authority or disciplinary entitlement, he would then turn on me. If he didn’t physically harm me, then I would most assuredly be called his pet name of put-downs, the one word all women abhor: starts with a “c” and rhymes with hunt. The children learned to steer clear of him and I learned to keep my mouth shut, something unequivocally difficult for me. I could not stand it when my children were unjustly chastised.
The way our fights would go were like this: I would do something to offend him, maybe sigh a little too loud when he told me his mother was coming over, and he would scream bloody murder that I was disrespecting his family, I was a horrible C-word, because if I acted like one then he had the right to call me one, and he would follow me upstairs where I would lock myself in my room and try to let his tirade pass. He would pound on the door and yell, sometimes for hours that he wasn’t going to let me sleep that night, horrible c-word that I was.
Now not all fights were about his mother, but let me give you a little background about that. The morning of our wedding she left a message on my answering machine for him stating that she would not be attending due to the fact that he owed her $70. And she didn’t. It was after my daughter was born that he started speaking to her again, and invite her over to dinner, more and more frequently after having to go pick her up and later drive her home. Bear in mind, she had a car, lived in the next town, and was a healthy woman in her mid-fifties. She smoked like a chimney and tried to cover the smell with an excess of perfume, which I am highly allergic to. I was not allowed to tell her this because it might offend her. So she would come over, hold my infant daughter, and later hand her back to me smelling like flower-covered ash which I would bathe away when he was driving her home so I could breathe the rest of the night.
His parents were divorced when he was six, his father just back from Viet Nam. Apparently his mother had always had a hard time coping, and sent him to a foster home for years, although there were brief stints where he had a paper route to support her 3-pack a day habit. As a teenager, he lived with her again before his father had him enlist in the military a year early in order to not pay child support any longer, and she tried to sexually molest him, because she had a pill habit. He told me that he didn’t trust her around children alone. In retrospect, I have to wonder if any of his childhood stories were true. It was definitely evident, though that his mother did have some issues.
So whatever the fight was about, he would stand outside the bedroom door, if he hadn’t kicked it in, and rant on and on that I wouldn’t get to sleep that night, he would make sure of it, and so on. If he had kicked it in, then this would be shouted directly into my face. It would continue until I apologized. Yes, that is correct. Until I apologized. It was always my fault.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
How it started
People often ask me if I had “seen it coming,” meaning had I predicted my husband’s mid-life crisis and descent into serious mortal sin and wanton self-gratification. They want to know if he had always been a creep or if it had just come upon him suddenly like a brain tumor. The answer is yes and no. Yes, he had been abusive, deceitful, and hedonistic in the past, with occasional flare-ups, but we did manage to have eight children together, stay together for thirteen years, and lead what I would call an average life. What disturbs me now is the fact that I have to concentrate hard on every aspect of our lives together and every last important event that he ever described to me and wonder if it were really real. I had caught him in lies in the past, and he had always claimed innocence and abhorrence that I would actually accuse him thus, but the extent of his capability to fabricate everything and anything completely stunned me.
We were married in 1994, I already had three little boys from a previous marriage, which was not in the church. This marriage wasn’t either, yet. It was my oldest son at 11-years-old who started riding his bike to daily Mass which brought us back. We joined the Catholic homeschool group, started attending Sunday Mass and praying the Rosary together nightly as a family. In 1998, after baby number six was born, we were remarried in the Church.
The marriage was not bliss from the beginning. We did not know each other long before we were married and had our first child together. I believe now that everything that led me to marry this man was a pretense on his part because I had something he wanted, namely, a fairly nice house and some money in the bank. I am hard-pressed now to believe he ever loved me or is even capable of the sentiment. My father, who had become a paraplegic a year after my mother passed away in an accident, had never liked a single one of my boyfriends and thoroughly detested my last husband. But he liked this one. I thought I was lucky. I have nightmares now to this day of my father rolling in his grave over the things tbj did to his daughter, grandchildren, and inheritance.
I was pregnant with our first the first time he hit me. I can’t remember why, but I do remember it was hard. My eye was bloody on the inside and black on the outside. I went to my Uncle’s funeral fresh with my injury and told my aunt and cousins I had walked into a door. I told my father the same. I felt trapped in the situation I had blindly jumped into, another marriage shortly after the last had ended badly. I was too embarrassed to admit to myself or anyone else, that I had made another mistake in the man department. I already considered myself the black sheep of the family, adopted as an infant I didn’t have brothers or sisters, but seven first cousins who all had advanced degrees and relationships that lasted. The only thing I could do was to make the best of my mess and drive on.
We were married in 1994, I already had three little boys from a previous marriage, which was not in the church. This marriage wasn’t either, yet. It was my oldest son at 11-years-old who started riding his bike to daily Mass which brought us back. We joined the Catholic homeschool group, started attending Sunday Mass and praying the Rosary together nightly as a family. In 1998, after baby number six was born, we were remarried in the Church.
The marriage was not bliss from the beginning. We did not know each other long before we were married and had our first child together. I believe now that everything that led me to marry this man was a pretense on his part because I had something he wanted, namely, a fairly nice house and some money in the bank. I am hard-pressed now to believe he ever loved me or is even capable of the sentiment. My father, who had become a paraplegic a year after my mother passed away in an accident, had never liked a single one of my boyfriends and thoroughly detested my last husband. But he liked this one. I thought I was lucky. I have nightmares now to this day of my father rolling in his grave over the things tbj did to his daughter, grandchildren, and inheritance.
I was pregnant with our first the first time he hit me. I can’t remember why, but I do remember it was hard. My eye was bloody on the inside and black on the outside. I went to my Uncle’s funeral fresh with my injury and told my aunt and cousins I had walked into a door. I told my father the same. I felt trapped in the situation I had blindly jumped into, another marriage shortly after the last had ended badly. I was too embarrassed to admit to myself or anyone else, that I had made another mistake in the man department. I already considered myself the black sheep of the family, adopted as an infant I didn’t have brothers or sisters, but seven first cousins who all had advanced degrees and relationships that lasted. The only thing I could do was to make the best of my mess and drive on.
Highlights of August - October '09
All Saint's Day: St. Olga of Kiev, St. Maria Goretti, St. Elizabeth Seton, St. Vincent DePaul, and St. Patrick
Cassidy, Trinity, Jordan and Sr. G. at one of the many Vocation Days we have been to this year.
Derek, Courtney, Brandon, and adopted Sr. G. at the Eucharistic Congress in D.C.
Derek and seminarian Daniel at the Springfield Diaconate Ordination.
The children in traditional Polish dress for St. Joseph's 150th Anniversay Mass with the Bishop. They originally got these costumes as a surprise for Fr. Tomasz's first Mass after ordination.Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Two years, eight months, and twenty-one days
Visitation didn’t happen in September, he never scheduled it. Back to my regular court I went at the end of that month. Two years, eight months, and twenty-one days after he walked out, I was divorced. It was supposed to be a day earlier, but when we went to court, there was this and that problem with the 16-page agreement and the support-enforcement officer had to sign it and by the time she showed up and did, he had left. Just like that, he walked out and said he had to get to work. Made us all come back again the next day. The agreement was absolutely ridiculous, which I had the chance to tell the court, by the way, not that it made any difference. Still, it was the only time I was ever allowed to speak. If you can believe it, he still asked for his shirts and guns. It says he has to pay me $340 a week. That he only, according to the state, was behind since July, when the state took over my case because I went on cash assistance, and has to pay them $3600, which they will then give me after they take out theirs. So, basically, he got away with owing me exactly $34,440 and $8000 in taxes. He will sign over the house. I can move if I give him 120 days notice. It doesn’t say I have to tell him where. He can’t claim anyone on income tax returns unless he is current with child support, which will never happen. I am supposed to sign some form every year saying that he is/isn’t. I’m sure he will forge it and try anyway. (As of this date, he is now behind 15 more weeks at $340, another $5100).
For the formality of ending it all, I had to take the stand so the judge could question me on whether I felt the “agreement” was fair and equitable. “Absolutely not,” I said “I didn’t think anything about it was fair, he got away with not supporting his kids for three years, stealing everything we had, and he lied about everything with no consequence.” What was fair about that? It was a different judge and he let me talk. He asked me why I was signing it then, was I under duress? “Yes,” I said, “The last judge was moving to New Haven, and I couldn’t afford to drive over an hour each way for a long, drawn-out trial because she refused to give up my case if I didn’t sign. I couldn’t make my pro bono attorney do that, either. What choice did I have? And after all of this time, I just wanted it over. I then proceeded to tell him how appalling I thought it was that for nine children he only had to pay $300 a week and that I was on the verge of losing my house because of him and that it made me sick to be in the same room with this evil smirking jerk. So the judge granted the divorce. Finally.
Outside after court, I asked my attorney a million Devil’s Advocate questions about what he could do to me now, because I refused to believe he would just leave me alone. She said that he owed the IRS $9000, the g.a.l. $6000, and the state $3600 that we knew of. He wouldn’t be bothering anyone for awhile and would most likely be heading for the hills to hide. My biggest fear was Kidsafe, although my attorney assured me that that most likely wouldn’t happen, either, because how could he find $500 to set that up with all of his money troubles. After all, he was supposed to have set it up on 9/13 and didn’t. “Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “he may have screwed you out of thousands, but you have your family, and that’s everything.” True.
Two days later, Kidsafe woman called and left a message that he set up visitation for that Sunday 10:00 a.m. until noon, and every other Sunday thereafter. Of course it would have to be the time we attend Mass. Needless to say, I was stunned. Not that he would do this, I knew he would try to get to me the only way that mattered, through my three youngest innocent children who hadn’t set eyes on this “man” in 10 months, before that a year. I was stunned because this would be allowed. How does one go about enacting a law? In the state of CT, child support is not connected to visitation. If one didn’t pay to support his children, he still had rights as a “father” to see them. Forgive me for my insolence but if a man doesn’t support his children, and further, goes to great lengths to figure out ways to not support them, (leaving the state, quitting jobs, forging checks) then he is not a father, let alone a man. If this “man” tells his children they are not his, physically harms them, and lies about them under oath, then what is wrong with our judicial system that they would order their mother to literally deliver these youngest of children on a platter to this “man.”
I was most definitely born a few decades too late. This society we live in is very demented. Those who try to live a good life and provide a good life for their children in the eyes of God are persecuted. The words of the Retrouvaille priest ring true in my position, “Have your older boys drag him out into the back woods and beat him.” Sounds great, but knowing tbj he would slap a class-action lawsuit on them all. Ah, for the days when a man was a man, and justice was just.
Let my Crucifix (whether on the wall or on my Rosary) serve as a reminder to me to pray to embrace my Crosses and trials and not to ask to have them removed.
For the formality of ending it all, I had to take the stand so the judge could question me on whether I felt the “agreement” was fair and equitable. “Absolutely not,” I said “I didn’t think anything about it was fair, he got away with not supporting his kids for three years, stealing everything we had, and he lied about everything with no consequence.” What was fair about that? It was a different judge and he let me talk. He asked me why I was signing it then, was I under duress? “Yes,” I said, “The last judge was moving to New Haven, and I couldn’t afford to drive over an hour each way for a long, drawn-out trial because she refused to give up my case if I didn’t sign. I couldn’t make my pro bono attorney do that, either. What choice did I have? And after all of this time, I just wanted it over. I then proceeded to tell him how appalling I thought it was that for nine children he only had to pay $300 a week and that I was on the verge of losing my house because of him and that it made me sick to be in the same room with this evil smirking jerk. So the judge granted the divorce. Finally.
Outside after court, I asked my attorney a million Devil’s Advocate questions about what he could do to me now, because I refused to believe he would just leave me alone. She said that he owed the IRS $9000, the g.a.l. $6000, and the state $3600 that we knew of. He wouldn’t be bothering anyone for awhile and would most likely be heading for the hills to hide. My biggest fear was Kidsafe, although my attorney assured me that that most likely wouldn’t happen, either, because how could he find $500 to set that up with all of his money troubles. After all, he was supposed to have set it up on 9/13 and didn’t. “Don’t worry,” she reassured me, “he may have screwed you out of thousands, but you have your family, and that’s everything.” True.
Two days later, Kidsafe woman called and left a message that he set up visitation for that Sunday 10:00 a.m. until noon, and every other Sunday thereafter. Of course it would have to be the time we attend Mass. Needless to say, I was stunned. Not that he would do this, I knew he would try to get to me the only way that mattered, through my three youngest innocent children who hadn’t set eyes on this “man” in 10 months, before that a year. I was stunned because this would be allowed. How does one go about enacting a law? In the state of CT, child support is not connected to visitation. If one didn’t pay to support his children, he still had rights as a “father” to see them. Forgive me for my insolence but if a man doesn’t support his children, and further, goes to great lengths to figure out ways to not support them, (leaving the state, quitting jobs, forging checks) then he is not a father, let alone a man. If this “man” tells his children they are not his, physically harms them, and lies about them under oath, then what is wrong with our judicial system that they would order their mother to literally deliver these youngest of children on a platter to this “man.”
I was most definitely born a few decades too late. This society we live in is very demented. Those who try to live a good life and provide a good life for their children in the eyes of God are persecuted. The words of the Retrouvaille priest ring true in my position, “Have your older boys drag him out into the back woods and beat him.” Sounds great, but knowing tbj he would slap a class-action lawsuit on them all. Ah, for the days when a man was a man, and justice was just.
Let my Crucifix (whether on the wall or on my Rosary) serve as a reminder to me to pray to embrace my Crosses and trials and not to ask to have them removed.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Still July,can't summer be over?
July was a long month. A pre-trial divorce hearing was held in a different court than usual. Pre-trial divorce hearing? What had I been doing for the past two-and-a-half years? We had to be there at 9:00 a.m. and we closed the place after 5:00 p.m. The very first thing I had to do was sit in a little room with him and a clerk and watch a video of a judge speaking about how custody issues ruin children. While the judge on film was rattling off statistics about children of divorce being incapable of having normal relationships as adults, the performance continued to my right as he worked up some tears and produced a tissue. It was obvious he believed the clerk was someone of importance, like the mediator we were supposed to meet next. Sorry, tbj, this guy just works the remote.
We each were given a little, windowless room to confer with our attorneys in. I found out later, however, that the room reminiscent of the interrogation rooms one sees in movies, actually was used for that purpose. I was given the privilege of going first to the mediation room where I was seated across a table from the mediators; a woman social worker, an impartial male attorney, and the same old partial g.a.l. The games were about to begin.
They began by informing me of what he was asking for. I had to hold back serious laughter, it was ludicrous, to say the least. He wanted joint custody of the youngest six kids, phone contact twice a week, to claim all of the children on income tax returns, and he would magnanimously quit-claim the house to me if I paid him all of the equity times 1 ½%. Equity? You’ve got to be kidding, tbj. There’s more: I am to go with him to parenting therapy twice a week, the kids would go on their own, and last but not least, I would not be allowed to homeschool.
The g.a.l. bowled me over with a cannon ball when she told all present that she had met my intelligent, well-spoken children and had no problem with me homeschooling. The psych. report was in front of them, they explained that it said I was intelligent and produced intelligent children on my own and therefore I could “just keep doing what I was doing.” The report also said that he was a narcissist and a liar and that the children didn’t hate him because of me, as he had been telling the court consistently, because I had nothing better to do than sit around all day and elaborate on his malevolence. They hated him (and yes, the report said it verbatim) because they were raised with morals and he violated those morals.
The one disconcerting section of the report said, though, that the three youngest didn’t know him enough to hate him and it was worth it for him to try and forge a relationship with them, under supervision, for two hours every other week, and only if he paid the fee in advance and his check didn’t bounce. Unbelievable! He loses the oldest eight because he tried to corrupt them but yet he is still given a chance to corrupt the youngest three. The one thing that the report said about me was that I was a “religious zealot.” Okay, thank you.
Tbj had his turn with the panel while my lawyer and I read in our little room. We broke for lunch and I met my son who had his soup kitchen summer apostolate conveniently down the street. (He’s a seminarian if I haven’t explained that yet). Tbj strolled by us and offhandedly asked Ian what was up. This is the son whom he testified about being deathly afraid of because he had video footage of being attacked by a club from him. Footage, that, if you can believe it, never made an appearance in court.
After lunch I experienced the interrogation component of the day. Throughout the next few hours, the “impartial” attorney came in randomly and asked me for things. Ridiculous things. Tbj apparently wanted his shirts, guns, and army medals back. The man got really angry when I laughed at this request. “Do you think it’s funny that your husband wants his shirts?” He asked me. Why yes I do, I threw them in the dumpster almost three years ago. He was on a wedding registry with another woman, I didn’t realize I was supposed to keep up with his laundry. “What about his guns?” This after another chapter in my book. His guns were confiscated by the state police when I had him arrested, I don’t have them and he knows this because I gave the receipt to his attorney a year or so ago when he asked for them last time.
Then later, “He wants his guns.” Uh, I just explained that to you. Was I supposed to snap under the pressure? Admit I had them when I didn’t? He just lost custody and contact with eight kids and he wanted some shirts I had thrown in the dumpster over two years ago, some guns that troop K took when he was arrested, and some medals that didn’t exist.
The army medals were really the funniest of all his requests. The mediator got annoyed with me again when I couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t you want your children to have these army relics?” Well, excuse me, but if you are accusing me of having those, then wouldn’t my kids have them because they live with me? I just laughed some more, it was so nonsensical. I tried my best to explain to this man that Tbj was in the army four years before I had met him, and to the best of my knowledge didn’t even possess an honorable discharge let alone a medal.
At the end of the day, the very, very long day, after I was told to agree with the panel on the custody/visitation issue because if I didn’t a judge might very well give him more, and after I was told if I did agree and not cause any more trouble I would be divorced right that day, I left with him getting visitation with my three babies on September 13th, and no divorce. The judge had left for the day.
We each were given a little, windowless room to confer with our attorneys in. I found out later, however, that the room reminiscent of the interrogation rooms one sees in movies, actually was used for that purpose. I was given the privilege of going first to the mediation room where I was seated across a table from the mediators; a woman social worker, an impartial male attorney, and the same old partial g.a.l. The games were about to begin.
They began by informing me of what he was asking for. I had to hold back serious laughter, it was ludicrous, to say the least. He wanted joint custody of the youngest six kids, phone contact twice a week, to claim all of the children on income tax returns, and he would magnanimously quit-claim the house to me if I paid him all of the equity times 1 ½%. Equity? You’ve got to be kidding, tbj. There’s more: I am to go with him to parenting therapy twice a week, the kids would go on their own, and last but not least, I would not be allowed to homeschool.
The g.a.l. bowled me over with a cannon ball when she told all present that she had met my intelligent, well-spoken children and had no problem with me homeschooling. The psych. report was in front of them, they explained that it said I was intelligent and produced intelligent children on my own and therefore I could “just keep doing what I was doing.” The report also said that he was a narcissist and a liar and that the children didn’t hate him because of me, as he had been telling the court consistently, because I had nothing better to do than sit around all day and elaborate on his malevolence. They hated him (and yes, the report said it verbatim) because they were raised with morals and he violated those morals.
The one disconcerting section of the report said, though, that the three youngest didn’t know him enough to hate him and it was worth it for him to try and forge a relationship with them, under supervision, for two hours every other week, and only if he paid the fee in advance and his check didn’t bounce. Unbelievable! He loses the oldest eight because he tried to corrupt them but yet he is still given a chance to corrupt the youngest three. The one thing that the report said about me was that I was a “religious zealot.” Okay, thank you.
Tbj had his turn with the panel while my lawyer and I read in our little room. We broke for lunch and I met my son who had his soup kitchen summer apostolate conveniently down the street. (He’s a seminarian if I haven’t explained that yet). Tbj strolled by us and offhandedly asked Ian what was up. This is the son whom he testified about being deathly afraid of because he had video footage of being attacked by a club from him. Footage, that, if you can believe it, never made an appearance in court.
After lunch I experienced the interrogation component of the day. Throughout the next few hours, the “impartial” attorney came in randomly and asked me for things. Ridiculous things. Tbj apparently wanted his shirts, guns, and army medals back. The man got really angry when I laughed at this request. “Do you think it’s funny that your husband wants his shirts?” He asked me. Why yes I do, I threw them in the dumpster almost three years ago. He was on a wedding registry with another woman, I didn’t realize I was supposed to keep up with his laundry. “What about his guns?” This after another chapter in my book. His guns were confiscated by the state police when I had him arrested, I don’t have them and he knows this because I gave the receipt to his attorney a year or so ago when he asked for them last time.
Then later, “He wants his guns.” Uh, I just explained that to you. Was I supposed to snap under the pressure? Admit I had them when I didn’t? He just lost custody and contact with eight kids and he wanted some shirts I had thrown in the dumpster over two years ago, some guns that troop K took when he was arrested, and some medals that didn’t exist.
The army medals were really the funniest of all his requests. The mediator got annoyed with me again when I couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t you want your children to have these army relics?” Well, excuse me, but if you are accusing me of having those, then wouldn’t my kids have them because they live with me? I just laughed some more, it was so nonsensical. I tried my best to explain to this man that Tbj was in the army four years before I had met him, and to the best of my knowledge didn’t even possess an honorable discharge let alone a medal.
At the end of the day, the very, very long day, after I was told to agree with the panel on the custody/visitation issue because if I didn’t a judge might very well give him more, and after I was told if I did agree and not cause any more trouble I would be divorced right that day, I left with him getting visitation with my three babies on September 13th, and no divorce. The judge had left for the day.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Blind injustice, or the judge is blind
Can. 1154 When a separation of spouses has taken place, provision is always, and in good time, to be made for the due maintenance and upbringing of the children.
Court in July was predictable. My attorney had copies of 28 checks that he had produced to prove he had paid his child support. And by produced, I mean created in the most literal sense. These checks were made on PNC bank checks, the bank for which he worked. He was ordered to direct deposit. I had never seen these checks, nor did I sign or cash them. They were copied, front and back, on two separate pieces of paper and if you looked real close, the date stamp on the back of each one was exactly the same. They were stapled together with the “backs” facing every which way, apparently to show how they were all different. Wow, I thought, when I first saw them, I’m finally going to get somewhere. Any idiot can see that these are obviously fakes. He had me cashing checks in May that he had supposedly given me in July of the same year. There were three months that he hadn’t even bothered forging checks for, at least I would be ordered to have that money paid to me. I really thought things were looking up. I thought wrong.
I was not allowed to show the 28 forged checks I had from him because "some low-level clerk could have copied them wrong," according to the judge. Was I accusing him of bank fraud? I wouldn't want the primary breadwinner of a large family locked up would I? These were the questions this judge was asking me. Of course I wanted him locked up! He wasn’t paying me, anyway, and it looked like he still wasn’t going to be required to. Primary breadwinner? No, that would be my seventeen-year-old son. Hell, yes I was accusing him of bank fraud. That’s what it was. Was all of the child support he wasn’t giving me secretly going to the judge? It certainly appeared that way.
Jim, attorney to the counterfeiter, then told the judge that his client was laid off the previous week from his illustrious bank job, and was now offering to pay me $300 a week. He was supposed to pay $700 and still owed me months from when it was $800. The judge told him to, "Pay me what he could." Excuse me? Where was the pink slip? Could there possibly be some correlation between phony checks made from one’s own bank and one’s own bank getting rid of them, perhaps, maybe, because they got caught in this phony-check-making enterprise? The judge didn’t think so.
I did manage to get a free subpoena to serve PNC bank, because the judge wouldn’t allow the checks as evidence without testimony from a bank employee to testify that they were not real. Anyone with eyes could see that they weren’t. It turns out that PNC doesn’t have any offices in CT, so the subpoena was totally worthless as it wasn’t valid in NJ. My lawyer actually was quite vocal this time, telling the court how every single time I go in with money issues, with proof, I am ignored. The judge told me I was "uncooperative" and had "bad karma." How do I not cooperate with not getting paid?
Court in July was predictable. My attorney had copies of 28 checks that he had produced to prove he had paid his child support. And by produced, I mean created in the most literal sense. These checks were made on PNC bank checks, the bank for which he worked. He was ordered to direct deposit. I had never seen these checks, nor did I sign or cash them. They were copied, front and back, on two separate pieces of paper and if you looked real close, the date stamp on the back of each one was exactly the same. They were stapled together with the “backs” facing every which way, apparently to show how they were all different. Wow, I thought, when I first saw them, I’m finally going to get somewhere. Any idiot can see that these are obviously fakes. He had me cashing checks in May that he had supposedly given me in July of the same year. There were three months that he hadn’t even bothered forging checks for, at least I would be ordered to have that money paid to me. I really thought things were looking up. I thought wrong.
I was not allowed to show the 28 forged checks I had from him because "some low-level clerk could have copied them wrong," according to the judge. Was I accusing him of bank fraud? I wouldn't want the primary breadwinner of a large family locked up would I? These were the questions this judge was asking me. Of course I wanted him locked up! He wasn’t paying me, anyway, and it looked like he still wasn’t going to be required to. Primary breadwinner? No, that would be my seventeen-year-old son. Hell, yes I was accusing him of bank fraud. That’s what it was. Was all of the child support he wasn’t giving me secretly going to the judge? It certainly appeared that way.
Jim, attorney to the counterfeiter, then told the judge that his client was laid off the previous week from his illustrious bank job, and was now offering to pay me $300 a week. He was supposed to pay $700 and still owed me months from when it was $800. The judge told him to, "Pay me what he could." Excuse me? Where was the pink slip? Could there possibly be some correlation between phony checks made from one’s own bank and one’s own bank getting rid of them, perhaps, maybe, because they got caught in this phony-check-making enterprise? The judge didn’t think so.
I did manage to get a free subpoena to serve PNC bank, because the judge wouldn’t allow the checks as evidence without testimony from a bank employee to testify that they were not real. Anyone with eyes could see that they weren’t. It turns out that PNC doesn’t have any offices in CT, so the subpoena was totally worthless as it wasn’t valid in NJ. My lawyer actually was quite vocal this time, telling the court how every single time I go in with money issues, with proof, I am ignored. The judge told me I was "uncooperative" and had "bad karma." How do I not cooperate with not getting paid?
Monday, December 21, 2009
Ho Kategoros
April of 2009 was my court date for the $46,000 in back child support, escrow, and taxes he owed me. I had a new judge, a woman, who was supposed to be the "judge in charge."
He didn't show for the last three court dates I had, nor did he show to the last three psychiatrist appointments he had so the report was not ready until that April. He had also cancelled the last three months of supervised visits.
He got on the stand first and said how his car was vandalized and the plates were stolen at Kidsafe in January and he had to have it towed to a storage garage and how I wouldn't sign a paper he needed to re-register said car so he had to pay $100 every two weeks for storage of this car.
It is both interesting and pertinent to note that the Greek word for devil (from diaballein, "to traduce") means a slanderer, or accuser, "the accuser [ho kategoros] of our brethren is cast forth, who accused them before our God day and night" (Apocalypse 12:10). It thus answers to the Hebrew name Satan which signifies an adversary, or an accuser. Every single time that man got into court, be it in front of family relations or testifying under oath, “so help him God,” he twisted the actual story into an accusation, with me as the architect of malevolence. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was in the middle of a new sequel of the Omen, the son of Satan was laughing at me from the witness stand and the whole court were his minions.
The judge was actually going to order that I pay half of his storage fee, without a receipt or bill for alleged storage. Hello? He lived in New Jersey for a year-and-a-half, probably still did and never registered his car there. Our names were listed as either/or on both vehicles and I didn't need him to sign anything when I reregistered mine. What about the taxes he was ordered to pay? He got a new car and parked this other one somewhere just to screw me out of registering mine. The loan he insisted on for this car he had to have was in both of our names, the collection company for the loan called me and said it hadn’t been paid on in eight months by this point. They were not going to hold me responsible, they just wanted to know where it was. Ho Kategoros continued to say that I broke into his car and stole the registration that didn't exist. (Remember the windows he left open?) He testified that the police said the rubber seal on the door was bent. Wouldn’t that be hearsay? There were no police involved besides the one I had remove his illegal plate.
The judge told me I should be ashamed of myself for having all of these children and wasting the courts time and legal fees better spent on my children by being hateful and vindictive.
It didn’t end there. He continued to testify that he had tried to call his children for months but I wouldn't answer the phone. The number was changed. He said the Kidsafe woman gave him a phone number which he called and called. She is not allowed to give him my number and in August of last year the judge took away his phone contact because he called me every minute for 3 straight days and I filed a police report for harrassment. This was completely overlooked. The judge couldn’t find that page of the ruling in my file. Ho K. showed phone records of him repeatedly calling a number that I've never heard of. The kids’ attorney testified that she tried to call me and couldn't reach me either. When my attorney asked her where she tried to call me and what hours, she answered that it was my work hours but she called me at home. I worked for a Catholic church and she would never dream of calling me there. Was AT&T going to reach out and touch her with the conversion of Truth? As a result, he received phone contact again twice a week with the kids. I have to call him, and prove it on my bill, with a number I just changed and if I don't, I get fined $25 a missed call.
The kids attorney then proceeded to testify that he still owed her initial retainer of $4700 and because of our 80/20 split and “all of the work she’d done,” he now owed her $6100 and I owed her $450 (for working against me and my children). Therefore, I was ordered to pay her $25 a week starting right then.
Ho K. then got back on the stand and said that I was the one who cancelled the last three months of visits, he only cancelled once because he had car trouble and couldn't afford to pay the $200 visitation fee but he had the kids’ Christmas presents and he bought them all computers and was never allowed to distribute them. So now I have to call Kidsafe on a Wednesday to verify he made an appointment on a Monday and if I don't I get a $200 fine. His visits would start again on Holy Saturday, four hours with four kids each for two hours and I'm supposed to pay 20% and drive 45 minutes each way round trip.
Then there was the issue of my escrow he was to start paying as of last August at $435 a month. The judge couldn't find record of that, either, in the file. He testified he had been paying $100 a month regularly straight to Chase, the mortgage company. I had a statement from Chase dated two weeks prior that said the escrow was minus $7400 and payments were 0. The judge said she'd give him four weeks to come up with the cancelled checks for that. It was getting comical at this point, although nothing about it was funny. It was a comedy of errors, yet the ending was never joyful.
Finally child support was addressed, after lunch at 2:00. He brought four cashed random checks from the last two years. He had the first page of his 4-page bank statements, even though he was subpoenaed for all of it. My attorney matched the checks up with the withdrawals on his four checks and they were different check numbers and dates. But we never had the opportunity to bring that lack of credibility up. The judge asked him why he didn't have all fifty-two (or more) checks. He said he would have to request copies at $7.50 per copy and he couldn't afford that. My lawyer demanded these months ago by subpoena. The judge asked why he didn't write regular checks and if they were bank checks then where was the carbon at least?
Ho K. had deducted Kidsafe fees from his last check which he had handed Kidsafe lady to hand me, as a dramatic gesture of evidence that he pays. He testified after my lawyer asked him, that he had never deducted Kidsafe fees from a child support check. My lawyer showed him the check where he did, and wrote just that in his own hand writing on the comments line. They let that go. That was the same check that he put a stop payment on, and never made good, after it bounced in my account and was returned to me. They let that go, too. And, of course, his faithful minions gave him four more weeks to show all the check copies and prove he paid me and if he does, then I have to pay for the check copying. No money for the children that day, once again.
His lawyer started to say I did "disgusting" things with his tax return, claiming all ten kids without a job two years in a row. I showed the judge my letter from the IRS stating he was getting audited because he claimed ME and the kids and said I lived at his mother's condo. The judge said she wouldn't rule on who got to claim the kids until she decided if he owed me child support or not. She ended that looooooong day by yelling at me for not filing JOINTLY with him, as we're still married and it would have benefitted both of us.
He didn't show for the last three court dates I had, nor did he show to the last three psychiatrist appointments he had so the report was not ready until that April. He had also cancelled the last three months of supervised visits.
He got on the stand first and said how his car was vandalized and the plates were stolen at Kidsafe in January and he had to have it towed to a storage garage and how I wouldn't sign a paper he needed to re-register said car so he had to pay $100 every two weeks for storage of this car.
It is both interesting and pertinent to note that the Greek word for devil (from diaballein, "to traduce") means a slanderer, or accuser, "the accuser [ho kategoros] of our brethren is cast forth, who accused them before our God day and night" (Apocalypse 12:10). It thus answers to the Hebrew name Satan which signifies an adversary, or an accuser. Every single time that man got into court, be it in front of family relations or testifying under oath, “so help him God,” he twisted the actual story into an accusation, with me as the architect of malevolence. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was in the middle of a new sequel of the Omen, the son of Satan was laughing at me from the witness stand and the whole court were his minions.
The judge was actually going to order that I pay half of his storage fee, without a receipt or bill for alleged storage. Hello? He lived in New Jersey for a year-and-a-half, probably still did and never registered his car there. Our names were listed as either/or on both vehicles and I didn't need him to sign anything when I reregistered mine. What about the taxes he was ordered to pay? He got a new car and parked this other one somewhere just to screw me out of registering mine. The loan he insisted on for this car he had to have was in both of our names, the collection company for the loan called me and said it hadn’t been paid on in eight months by this point. They were not going to hold me responsible, they just wanted to know where it was. Ho Kategoros continued to say that I broke into his car and stole the registration that didn't exist. (Remember the windows he left open?) He testified that the police said the rubber seal on the door was bent. Wouldn’t that be hearsay? There were no police involved besides the one I had remove his illegal plate.
The judge told me I should be ashamed of myself for having all of these children and wasting the courts time and legal fees better spent on my children by being hateful and vindictive.
It didn’t end there. He continued to testify that he had tried to call his children for months but I wouldn't answer the phone. The number was changed. He said the Kidsafe woman gave him a phone number which he called and called. She is not allowed to give him my number and in August of last year the judge took away his phone contact because he called me every minute for 3 straight days and I filed a police report for harrassment. This was completely overlooked. The judge couldn’t find that page of the ruling in my file. Ho K. showed phone records of him repeatedly calling a number that I've never heard of. The kids’ attorney testified that she tried to call me and couldn't reach me either. When my attorney asked her where she tried to call me and what hours, she answered that it was my work hours but she called me at home. I worked for a Catholic church and she would never dream of calling me there. Was AT&T going to reach out and touch her with the conversion of Truth? As a result, he received phone contact again twice a week with the kids. I have to call him, and prove it on my bill, with a number I just changed and if I don't, I get fined $25 a missed call.
The kids attorney then proceeded to testify that he still owed her initial retainer of $4700 and because of our 80/20 split and “all of the work she’d done,” he now owed her $6100 and I owed her $450 (for working against me and my children). Therefore, I was ordered to pay her $25 a week starting right then.
Ho K. then got back on the stand and said that I was the one who cancelled the last three months of visits, he only cancelled once because he had car trouble and couldn't afford to pay the $200 visitation fee but he had the kids’ Christmas presents and he bought them all computers and was never allowed to distribute them. So now I have to call Kidsafe on a Wednesday to verify he made an appointment on a Monday and if I don't I get a $200 fine. His visits would start again on Holy Saturday, four hours with four kids each for two hours and I'm supposed to pay 20% and drive 45 minutes each way round trip.
Then there was the issue of my escrow he was to start paying as of last August at $435 a month. The judge couldn't find record of that, either, in the file. He testified he had been paying $100 a month regularly straight to Chase, the mortgage company. I had a statement from Chase dated two weeks prior that said the escrow was minus $7400 and payments were 0. The judge said she'd give him four weeks to come up with the cancelled checks for that. It was getting comical at this point, although nothing about it was funny. It was a comedy of errors, yet the ending was never joyful.
Finally child support was addressed, after lunch at 2:00. He brought four cashed random checks from the last two years. He had the first page of his 4-page bank statements, even though he was subpoenaed for all of it. My attorney matched the checks up with the withdrawals on his four checks and they were different check numbers and dates. But we never had the opportunity to bring that lack of credibility up. The judge asked him why he didn't have all fifty-two (or more) checks. He said he would have to request copies at $7.50 per copy and he couldn't afford that. My lawyer demanded these months ago by subpoena. The judge asked why he didn't write regular checks and if they were bank checks then where was the carbon at least?
Ho K. had deducted Kidsafe fees from his last check which he had handed Kidsafe lady to hand me, as a dramatic gesture of evidence that he pays. He testified after my lawyer asked him, that he had never deducted Kidsafe fees from a child support check. My lawyer showed him the check where he did, and wrote just that in his own hand writing on the comments line. They let that go. That was the same check that he put a stop payment on, and never made good, after it bounced in my account and was returned to me. They let that go, too. And, of course, his faithful minions gave him four more weeks to show all the check copies and prove he paid me and if he does, then I have to pay for the check copying. No money for the children that day, once again.
His lawyer started to say I did "disgusting" things with his tax return, claiming all ten kids without a job two years in a row. I showed the judge my letter from the IRS stating he was getting audited because he claimed ME and the kids and said I lived at his mother's condo. The judge said she wouldn't rule on who got to claim the kids until she decided if he owed me child support or not. She ended that looooooong day by yelling at me for not filing JOINTLY with him, as we're still married and it would have benefitted both of us.
What is colder than the heart of the Civil Court? And frostier than the soul of a man who abandons his family and ceases to support them? Niagara Falls in the winter comes close. At the end of January 2008, Ian turned eighteen. So to celebrate, we rented a car for $30 and drove west, while our new friend-turned-family member, Fr. T, who was still Deacon T, drove east and met us. The Falls were beautiful, I had never seen them before, but I had never been so cold in my life. Especially due to the insistence of T that we walk around them all day! It was a wonderful weekend, though, even if Derek and T overdid the sauna.
Friday, December 18, 2009
The LAST Kidsafe visit
The New Year brought with it a visit scheduled at Kidsafe. He had been giving me a hard time with my efforts to re-register my van. Both of our names were on the registration so the fact that he hadn’t paid the taxes, registration, or insurance on his car were creating havoc on me trying to pay on mine. DMV told me that because our names were connected I would have to pay the entire balance for both vehicles to get the new registration sticker for mine. It had been weeks since I had received child support, which he was ordered to direct deposit in a specific account for that purpose. His excuse was he couldn’t figure out the routing number. HE WAS A BANK MANAGER. I found the routing number just this morning on WikiAnswers in 2 seconds. So I went to my town hall and explained the situation and showed them the court order requiring him to have paid my automobile tax, which of course, he didn’t. They were nice enough to “divorce me” from him in their office and gave me a receipt to show DMV that I was off the hook, although I did still have to pay his $200 fine for insurance lapse.
Bear with me, this is getting to the point. Because my son was a minor when he registered his car, I had to be on the registration with him. Do you see the problem? My name was connected to he-who-was-above-the-law and in turn connected to my son, so now the DMV was not letting him re-register, because of me, because of him. It was time to take action. I had brought this situation up in court several (thousand) times, and of course was completely ignored. I called in the big guns, the last ex-husband. I figured after fourteen years it was about time anyway, I had recently been threatened with him in court. Apparently they were joining forces to “take me down.”
Last ex, we’ll call him Eric, was surprised to hear from me, not surprised I was having substantial issues with tbj, and willing to help ... me. This is the crux I was driving at. We met near Kidsafe, with a friend of his from the police department who was more than happy to remove his illegal license plates and confiscate them. Now to get them back, he would be forced to pay his insurance and back taxes, so I could pay my son’s.
I had mentioned previously how this Kidsafe visit was “eventful.” Here goes, I hope you can follow along... Eric and I were chatting near my van which was a good distance from tbj’s car that was minus its plates. He exited the building to get something from said car and freaked out. “Oh, my God!” he started yelling, “They’re threatening me! Did you hear that kids? Help! Help! They’re threatening me!” At this point, ignorant Kidsafe woman comes running out and looks to me. “What did you do?!” she accuses me. “Get out of here, get out of here right now!” Later the kids tell me that all he talked about was how we were “threatening” him and how he was so sorry the poor kids had to hear it. The kids told oblivious lady that we hadn’t looked in his direction, that Eric had waved at him and I hadn’t said a word. It was another show, duplicitous performer for the underworld Oscar that he is.
The other interesting detail is that he left his windows open on his car. It was January and about 12 degrees. The fallout from the last Kidsafe visit ever: I was informed by my attorney that I was no longer allowed in the parking lot and had to drop the children in the street. Tbj informed his #1 fan that his car was vandalized, by me, his plates were stolen, and ice was dumped on his seat. Said devotee called the police (the same ones who took the plates), his car was towed, and has never been seen to this day. And last but not least and certainly the most entertaining of all: he told the children that he had bought each one of them a laptop for Christmas, but seeing as how he didn’t know if I would show, he left them all in his storage facility. Oddly enough, those have not been seen to this day, either.
Bear with me, this is getting to the point. Because my son was a minor when he registered his car, I had to be on the registration with him. Do you see the problem? My name was connected to he-who-was-above-the-law and in turn connected to my son, so now the DMV was not letting him re-register, because of me, because of him. It was time to take action. I had brought this situation up in court several (thousand) times, and of course was completely ignored. I called in the big guns, the last ex-husband. I figured after fourteen years it was about time anyway, I had recently been threatened with him in court. Apparently they were joining forces to “take me down.”
Last ex, we’ll call him Eric, was surprised to hear from me, not surprised I was having substantial issues with tbj, and willing to help ... me. This is the crux I was driving at. We met near Kidsafe, with a friend of his from the police department who was more than happy to remove his illegal license plates and confiscate them. Now to get them back, he would be forced to pay his insurance and back taxes, so I could pay my son’s.
I had mentioned previously how this Kidsafe visit was “eventful.” Here goes, I hope you can follow along... Eric and I were chatting near my van which was a good distance from tbj’s car that was minus its plates. He exited the building to get something from said car and freaked out. “Oh, my God!” he started yelling, “They’re threatening me! Did you hear that kids? Help! Help! They’re threatening me!” At this point, ignorant Kidsafe woman comes running out and looks to me. “What did you do?!” she accuses me. “Get out of here, get out of here right now!” Later the kids tell me that all he talked about was how we were “threatening” him and how he was so sorry the poor kids had to hear it. The kids told oblivious lady that we hadn’t looked in his direction, that Eric had waved at him and I hadn’t said a word. It was another show, duplicitous performer for the underworld Oscar that he is.
The other interesting detail is that he left his windows open on his car. It was January and about 12 degrees. The fallout from the last Kidsafe visit ever: I was informed by my attorney that I was no longer allowed in the parking lot and had to drop the children in the street. Tbj informed his #1 fan that his car was vandalized, by me, his plates were stolen, and ice was dumped on his seat. Said devotee called the police (the same ones who took the plates), his car was towed, and has never been seen to this day. And last but not least and certainly the most entertaining of all: he told the children that he had bought each one of them a laptop for Christmas, but seeing as how he didn’t know if I would show, he left them all in his storage facility. Oddly enough, those have not been seen to this day, either.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
The second supposed suicide pact
My lawyer called November 2nd from court at almost 5:00 in the afternoon, with an ex parte order from my ex. It seems he went to the Manchester police dept. that morning with an email I supposedly sent him (not from my email address) saying "I would rather kill myself and all of the children rather than let him see them again. Die and rot in hell fat bald bastard."Based on this he is filing for full immediate custody. Bear in mind, he has two hours twice a month ONLY with the youngest three. He has NO custody of anyone else, and has not seen any of them since last January. He cannot go to supervised visitation if his check bounces and it bounced the last several times he tried.I was shocked, to say the least. Things had been quiet. I was concentrating on my foreclosure...I had to go to court that Friday afternoon for a hearing on it and prove I'm innocent and hopefully prove he's lying, again. I had a lovely talk with the investigating officer. I gave him some background and he said that ex told him the state police were at my house Friday and the place was vacant. I told him that he was welcome to come look at my messy house right now with my chickens in the yard, etc. He told me that he read my ex as narcissistic, controlling, and a major liar and he is going to help me arrest him for filing a false report, and get a restraining order back in place. It took him five minutes to “diagnose” the ex. Why can’t the court see it, he wanted to know. Beats me, it’s all in the psych report in black and white.
My attorney told me that it occurred to her that the email left it a perfect plan for him to come kill me and the kids and make it look like I was planning just that. That scared me. She said now it can't happen because he knows the judge didn't believe him, DCF was never called. He did this before to DCF, I called and asked the nice lady if she remembered me. She did and was willing to help.Yahoo was a little more difficult. They wouldn't let me track without a subpoena to their legal dept. which could take forever. I would LOVE to prove he sent that to himself. One thing that REALLY freaked me out was that my atty. said the email was sent at 3:33 a.m. Isn't that the devil's time?The officer called me the next night off duty and said that ex was in the station that night complaining that the officer wasn't getting the job done, that he had evidence from a state trooper that I was in Missouri and that he notified the center for missing and exploited children and the FBI. I spent three hours the next morning with the officer from the Manchester PD. While I was there he showed me a statement that ex gave him, it was a list of all of my friends (that he knew of) their addresses and phone numbers, that I was fraudulently collecting cash assistance even though I quit my job and that I made $135,000 net last year as proven in the Rockville Court. Oh, and that he has given me $700 a week to this very day (even though the court lowered his child support to $300 as of 9/22). My lawyer was on the phone with us while I was there and she said that he hadn't paid a dime as of support enforcement that morning, that her friend from the bank looked up the serial numbers on the checks he wrote last year that the court dismissed and that they were all expired checks that a bank manager could certainly use to his advantage fraudulently. So, she is hoping to get a warrant from the attorney general who will arrest him for check fraud. She told me she keeps expecting to see me gunned down on the news. The DCF woman was subpoenaed for Friday, so she could testify he has a history of fraudulent reports.
So I went to court with my two older sons and the DCF woman who was testifying for me. He was there with his atty. and his sister. His atty. approaches the DCF lady and says he assumed the kids were now in her custody. She said no, she was there for me. We then get in front of the judge and he withdraws the complaint. Just like that. My lawyer said, “Excuse me, no, this man had an email that accused my client of being homicidal/suicidal and he filed with the FBI for crying out loud and we have testimony proving this is a pattern for him, and a conspiracy theory,”...the judge said he couldn't do anything if they withdrew. He could’ve put him in jail. Frauding the court is a crime.
But it didn’t end there.
I hadn't received mail all the next week, unheard of with ten of us living here. I called the post office and they said someone submitted a change of address for the whole family and it was probably done online. All they had was a sticker. I said I should be able to know where my mail was going (as if I didn't) and they said that even if she did track it, she wouldn't be allowed to tell me because there is a statement on the card saying "violators will be prosecuted." DUH! It's a federal offense. I called the state police. A trooper went to the post office and made the postmaster look it up for him, said there was a card on file in Hartford, imagine that, and it was signed tbj, with his present address. He said the system was stupid and that it was way too easy to play with... Anyway, it of course, was out of his jurisdiction and I had to call the USPS and file a complaint, which I did. And insisted it be prosecuted! I was supposed to get a call back in 48 hours, didn’t. Called them again and very nonchalantly was told it wouldn’t be followed up because there was no money involved. How do they know? He could have my bank statements, phone numbers, and someone could’ve anonymously sent me a million dollars! I’ll never know what has to stalk me with. He gets away again, growing in confidence that he is invincible, above the law.
My attorney told me that it occurred to her that the email left it a perfect plan for him to come kill me and the kids and make it look like I was planning just that. That scared me. She said now it can't happen because he knows the judge didn't believe him, DCF was never called. He did this before to DCF, I called and asked the nice lady if she remembered me. She did and was willing to help.Yahoo was a little more difficult. They wouldn't let me track without a subpoena to their legal dept. which could take forever. I would LOVE to prove he sent that to himself. One thing that REALLY freaked me out was that my atty. said the email was sent at 3:33 a.m. Isn't that the devil's time?The officer called me the next night off duty and said that ex was in the station that night complaining that the officer wasn't getting the job done, that he had evidence from a state trooper that I was in Missouri and that he notified the center for missing and exploited children and the FBI. I spent three hours the next morning with the officer from the Manchester PD. While I was there he showed me a statement that ex gave him, it was a list of all of my friends (that he knew of) their addresses and phone numbers, that I was fraudulently collecting cash assistance even though I quit my job and that I made $135,000 net last year as proven in the Rockville Court. Oh, and that he has given me $700 a week to this very day (even though the court lowered his child support to $300 as of 9/22). My lawyer was on the phone with us while I was there and she said that he hadn't paid a dime as of support enforcement that morning, that her friend from the bank looked up the serial numbers on the checks he wrote last year that the court dismissed and that they were all expired checks that a bank manager could certainly use to his advantage fraudulently. So, she is hoping to get a warrant from the attorney general who will arrest him for check fraud. She told me she keeps expecting to see me gunned down on the news. The DCF woman was subpoenaed for Friday, so she could testify he has a history of fraudulent reports.
So I went to court with my two older sons and the DCF woman who was testifying for me. He was there with his atty. and his sister. His atty. approaches the DCF lady and says he assumed the kids were now in her custody. She said no, she was there for me. We then get in front of the judge and he withdraws the complaint. Just like that. My lawyer said, “Excuse me, no, this man had an email that accused my client of being homicidal/suicidal and he filed with the FBI for crying out loud and we have testimony proving this is a pattern for him, and a conspiracy theory,”...the judge said he couldn't do anything if they withdrew. He could’ve put him in jail. Frauding the court is a crime.
But it didn’t end there.
I hadn't received mail all the next week, unheard of with ten of us living here. I called the post office and they said someone submitted a change of address for the whole family and it was probably done online. All they had was a sticker. I said I should be able to know where my mail was going (as if I didn't) and they said that even if she did track it, she wouldn't be allowed to tell me because there is a statement on the card saying "violators will be prosecuted." DUH! It's a federal offense. I called the state police. A trooper went to the post office and made the postmaster look it up for him, said there was a card on file in Hartford, imagine that, and it was signed tbj, with his present address. He said the system was stupid and that it was way too easy to play with... Anyway, it of course, was out of his jurisdiction and I had to call the USPS and file a complaint, which I did. And insisted it be prosecuted! I was supposed to get a call back in 48 hours, didn’t. Called them again and very nonchalantly was told it wouldn’t be followed up because there was no money involved. How do they know? He could have my bank statements, phone numbers, and someone could’ve anonymously sent me a million dollars! I’ll never know what has to stalk me with. He gets away again, growing in confidence that he is invincible, above the law.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Jumping ahead
It is amazing how I've been celibate for three years but every time I go to court I get raped. I had many, many people praying for me today, when I went to court in between two final exams. I had dcf and dss there as witnesses to testify on my behalf, the motions were mine for contempt, and permission to move and my attorney's fees for the times he made her go to court with his recent lunacy. Right off the bat his attorney started with how I shouldn't be allowed to have any motion's heard because I didn't take my parenting education class. Well neither did he. The judge gave me til January the last time we were there, and he overruled this, even though the g.a.l. testified that she heard it to be true I shouldn't have a motion heard. She is unbelievable, sitting with him again, even though her motion for contempt of his non-payment to her for $6000 was up to be heard. Next, Jim, attorney from Hell and to the devil, contested the fact that dss and dcf were there as witnesses, he "didn't know" and wasn't prepared. Well, seeing as how they were held over from the last time we weren't allowed to be heard, and recalled, he most certainly did know. Dss was there to testify that he gave the state false child support checks and dcf was there to testify that he was a lunatic with a history of lying and creating false reports. Both witnesses were told by the judge to go home, he wasn't allowing ANY of my motions. But Jim's could be heard.
The dss women, who was in fact the state's attorney general for support enforcement told me that it was crazy, she would go file contempt on her own and help me prove that he was committing fraud, on me, the state, and this moronic judge who obviously is too stupid to notice. She went to the magistrate and filed contempt for January. Jim brushed it off as a paperwork snafu, his client was up to date, the state "lost" the money somewhere. Dcf went home for the second time with out being allowed to speak.
Then my lawyer said that "the man I was once married to and can't look at without feeling physically ill" or TBJ for short, was issued a subpoena, served by a marshall for his pay stubs, bank records, and proof of employment for the last two years. Where was it? Jim said he didn't need to bring any of it, the judge agreed. This was the most blatant exhibition of court corruption yet. A subpoena is not valid? I had to wait for a fee waiver after I filled it out, bring it to my lawyer, who in turn had to bring it to a marshall, who had to serve him and it didn't matter?
So the next thing was him testifying that the IRS sent me a certified letter that I had to redo my 2007 and 2008 tax returns because they were not accepted. He tried to force me to refile jointly so he didn't get stuck with a liability after I claimed the kids because he claimed me and the kids. My 2007 and 2008 returns were approved bt the IRS, I had valid employment and he was behind 52 weeks of child support. He had no right to claim them. The judge gave me a week to refile joint so tbj can get some more money. Doesn't matter he's 66 weeks behind in support, and my house is foreclosing because he didn't pay the property taxes he was ordered to pay. That wasn't allowed to be heard.
And speaking of foreclosure, now tbj and the judge have a problem with me moving. I can't, even though my previous court order said I could, and that is what he (the judge) was basing all of his decisions on: previous court orders. I can't because the children need to establish a relationship with the man who is MAKING them homeless, and not supporting them. But only the youngest three, the older 6 minors can live in a ditch, and he can see the youngest three for his two hours of supervised visitation because it was ordered that he have it after not seeing them for A YEAR, which he said was my fault, of course. His last visitation check BOUNCED. The judge said he didn't believe either of us but he tended to believe him more. Even though the psych report he kept referring to called him a LIAR INCAPABLE OF TELLING THE TRUTH. I have to be subjected to a family relations study if I want to move, to see if the angry lesbian who hates me and lives by the motto "But he's their " will allow it.
And to put the cherry on my sundae from Hell, I was ordered to pay $410 to Jim for his time today.
Merry Christmas from the court to my kids.
The dss women, who was in fact the state's attorney general for support enforcement told me that it was crazy, she would go file contempt on her own and help me prove that he was committing fraud, on me, the state, and this moronic judge who obviously is too stupid to notice. She went to the magistrate and filed contempt for January. Jim brushed it off as a paperwork snafu, his client was up to date, the state "lost" the money somewhere. Dcf went home for the second time with out being allowed to speak.
Then my lawyer said that "the man I was once married to and can't look at without feeling physically ill" or TBJ for short, was issued a subpoena, served by a marshall for his pay stubs, bank records, and proof of employment for the last two years. Where was it? Jim said he didn't need to bring any of it, the judge agreed. This was the most blatant exhibition of court corruption yet. A subpoena is not valid? I had to wait for a fee waiver after I filled it out, bring it to my lawyer, who in turn had to bring it to a marshall, who had to serve him and it didn't matter?
So the next thing was him testifying that the IRS sent me a certified letter that I had to redo my 2007 and 2008 tax returns because they were not accepted. He tried to force me to refile jointly so he didn't get stuck with a liability after I claimed the kids because he claimed me and the kids. My 2007 and 2008 returns were approved bt the IRS, I had valid employment and he was behind 52 weeks of child support. He had no right to claim them. The judge gave me a week to refile joint so tbj can get some more money. Doesn't matter he's 66 weeks behind in support, and my house is foreclosing because he didn't pay the property taxes he was ordered to pay. That wasn't allowed to be heard.
And speaking of foreclosure, now tbj and the judge have a problem with me moving. I can't, even though my previous court order said I could, and that is what he (the judge) was basing all of his decisions on: previous court orders. I can't because the children need to establish a relationship with the man who is MAKING them homeless, and not supporting them. But only the youngest three, the older 6 minors can live in a ditch, and he can see the youngest three for his two hours of supervised visitation because it was ordered that he have it after not seeing them for A YEAR, which he said was my fault, of course. His last visitation check BOUNCED. The judge said he didn't believe either of us but he tended to believe him more. Even though the psych report he kept referring to called him a LIAR INCAPABLE OF TELLING THE TRUTH. I have to be subjected to a family relations study if I want to move, to see if the angry lesbian who hates me and lives by the motto "But he's their " will allow it.
And to put the cherry on my sundae from Hell, I was ordered to pay $410 to Jim for his time today.
Merry Christmas from the court to my kids.
Nutcracker season
Ever since my oldest child was two, the children have been involved in dance. Perhaps it was living vicariously through my offspring who did not inherit my lack of grace and coordination. The children loved the art form, the school was classical and rigid, and the performances were elaborate. At this time, boys were free, an added benefit for braving the cold nights for long rehearsals during celebrated Nutcracker season. Nutcracker 2008 was stained with many visits to the psychiatrist, for the long-sought-after psych report was finally ordered.
These appointments were scheduled for me, as a control group against him, for him obviously, and for the kids, alone and observed with him. They consisted of IQ tests, ink blots, and interviews. Naturally, he was a no-show for several of his appointments and the doctor was much too lenient in allowing him to re-surface, which he finally did when the man threatened to write the report without him. There were three interesting episodes that played out during these visits. 1. My IQ is higher than his, which must have been a crushing blow to his ego. 2. He spent his first visit telling his now familiar story about how none of the children were his and I was a very bad person. He told how my childhood was dysfunctional, how I had thrown him out, and pretty much the exact opposite of everthing that had ever happened or proved to be true. And prove it I did, I logged on right then and there and brought up “the” pictures. The doctor commented on how she wasn’t as young looking as she claimed. I also had written documents to prove every last thing I said. I was told he could show nothing, although asked to. Hmmmm, sounds familiar. 3. His session with the boys had him telling my son that “He was the man he is today because of him,” that he “got his intelligence and work ethic from him,” and that he went to college at the age of fifteen thanks to himself.” My son, through tears (sorry if I’m embarrassing you, D) countered,” I didn’t see you homeschooling us. But you’re right about my work ethic, if you didn’t abandon us and not support us, I wouldn’t have to go to work at my age to support my family. So, yeah, I did get that from you.” (Bravo! D)
I am a day late for the feast of St. John of the Cross but he is very pertinent to me today. A six page paper due, a final exam tonight, and another court appearance with him; and here I am writing on my blog. I am vehemently trying to fill in the blanks that got me to today, have all my ducks in a row so to speak, because I am on a mission for justice.
"Conversion is accomplished in daily life by gestures of reconciliation, concern for the poor, the exercise and defense of justice and right, by the admission of faults to one's brethren, fraternal correction, revision of life, examination of conscience, spiritual direction, acceptance of suffering, endurance of persecution for the sake of righteousness. Taking up one's cross each day and following Jesus is the surest way of penance."
CCC #1435 The bolding is mine.
I’m going to backtrack a little and explain how he had come to have supervised visitation. It was at the beginning of autumn and he had actually shown for a visit. He took four of them from Kidsafe to a park, where he then proceeded to terrorize them. Two of the little girls were pushed on swings to the extent that they were screaming in fright for being so high. They were terrified, which made him push harder. (Yes, he had shown sadistic tendencies during our marriage, detail to follow). How do I know all this? The oldest of the boys that “were not out to get him” was there. When he stepped in to defend his sisters’, he was taken to the ground. Grounds for supervised visitation. The other boy present was spanked for spilling a drink. I demanded an emergency meeting and this time the g.a.l. and family relations had to listen to me, by way of the children who actually were allowed to speak in their own defense. The end result of his day in the park was four hours supervised visitation, to take place at Kidsafe, with the kids split four and four. Eight of them at once were too much for him to handle. This meant for me a 30-mile drive, in the cold, and finding something to occupy myself with while I waited to exchange children. I was told by the judge to “go to the library.” Well, sorry your honor, the library is closed on Sunday. Luckily, he had to pay in advance and have his check clear at $200 a visit. Wonder of wonders, it almost always bounced. As it happens, I was ordered to pay 25% of these visits that were to occur every other Sunday. Shivering in the car for four hours and gas for my bus were payment enough, thank you, and I refused. Oddly enough, the “authorities” didn’t bother me about this. As it turns out, there was one (very eventful) visit in January.
"Conversion is accomplished in daily life by gestures of reconciliation, concern for the poor, the exercise and defense of justice and right, by the admission of faults to one's brethren, fraternal correction, revision of life, examination of conscience, spiritual direction, acceptance of suffering, endurance of persecution for the sake of righteousness. Taking up one's cross each day and following Jesus is the surest way of penance."
CCC #1435 The bolding is mine.
I’m going to backtrack a little and explain how he had come to have supervised visitation. It was at the beginning of autumn and he had actually shown for a visit. He took four of them from Kidsafe to a park, where he then proceeded to terrorize them. Two of the little girls were pushed on swings to the extent that they were screaming in fright for being so high. They were terrified, which made him push harder. (Yes, he had shown sadistic tendencies during our marriage, detail to follow). How do I know all this? The oldest of the boys that “were not out to get him” was there. When he stepped in to defend his sisters’, he was taken to the ground. Grounds for supervised visitation. The other boy present was spanked for spilling a drink. I demanded an emergency meeting and this time the g.a.l. and family relations had to listen to me, by way of the children who actually were allowed to speak in their own defense. The end result of his day in the park was four hours supervised visitation, to take place at Kidsafe, with the kids split four and four. Eight of them at once were too much for him to handle. This meant for me a 30-mile drive, in the cold, and finding something to occupy myself with while I waited to exchange children. I was told by the judge to “go to the library.” Well, sorry your honor, the library is closed on Sunday. Luckily, he had to pay in advance and have his check clear at $200 a visit. Wonder of wonders, it almost always bounced. As it happens, I was ordered to pay 25% of these visits that were to occur every other Sunday. Shivering in the car for four hours and gas for my bus were payment enough, thank you, and I refused. Oddly enough, the “authorities” didn’t bother me about this. As it turns out, there was one (very eventful) visit in January.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Court Hell continued
The night before court, I spent $40 I didn’t have online to get the assessor’s number for his house in New Jersey, to prove he owned real estate while still married to me. The very first court date we had we were given paperwork that neither of us could take out new debts alone or with a third party. So wasn’t he doing something illegal? The judge didn’t want to hear it, and I was out $40. His attorney, in his closing argument, told the judge to find me in contempt, because “people need to be made to follow judgments or the whole system wouldn’t work.” This undoubtedly has to be the most ironic statement ever made. Every single judgment he ever had: child support, psychiatric testing, taxes, he blatantly disregarded. My lawyer didn’t have a closing argument. I walked out of that courtroom stunned. My husband laughed in my face as I was walking out the door.
Here is where I have to pause and address the positive. I have some awesome friends and wonderful family who have gotten me through the toughest times; when I thought I would lose my mind. The children and I have made some new friends who literally moved in at times, rolled up their sleeves, and became family. We have many angels looking out for us; spiritual angels as well as the ones that God sends in human form to provide acts of kindness. My Catholic online women’s group sent several hundred dollars to us when the child support stopped coming, one woman in particular sent several thousand. I would get anonymous grocery store gift cards in the mail, and food left on my porch. When winter was imminent my pellet stove, our only source of heat was cleaned and serviced on the house and a ton of pellets delivered to my driveway. It seemed that God was always providing, as long as I was doing right in his sight, and believe me, it was a struggle.
Friends and strangers alike often ask me how I manage to stay sane. It is one thing when someone finds out you are the mother of eleven and quite something else when it is clarified single mother of eleven. I am frequently told by this or that person if it would have been them, they’d have gone crazy. Lately, I believe more and more that that is his (my husband’s) goal. He is to this day doing everything in his power to make it harder and harder for us to live. I am told by those in authority it is because he has to make himself appear great by making me look small. This stems from the long-overdue psychiatric report. As it happens, I really don’t mind looking small. Accepting charity has a way of making one humble. Yet sometimes I do wish that God didn’t love me quite so much and show it by all of the responsibility he trusts me with.
“Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him.” James 1:12
Here is where I have to pause and address the positive. I have some awesome friends and wonderful family who have gotten me through the toughest times; when I thought I would lose my mind. The children and I have made some new friends who literally moved in at times, rolled up their sleeves, and became family. We have many angels looking out for us; spiritual angels as well as the ones that God sends in human form to provide acts of kindness. My Catholic online women’s group sent several hundred dollars to us when the child support stopped coming, one woman in particular sent several thousand. I would get anonymous grocery store gift cards in the mail, and food left on my porch. When winter was imminent my pellet stove, our only source of heat was cleaned and serviced on the house and a ton of pellets delivered to my driveway. It seemed that God was always providing, as long as I was doing right in his sight, and believe me, it was a struggle.
Friends and strangers alike often ask me how I manage to stay sane. It is one thing when someone finds out you are the mother of eleven and quite something else when it is clarified single mother of eleven. I am frequently told by this or that person if it would have been them, they’d have gone crazy. Lately, I believe more and more that that is his (my husband’s) goal. He is to this day doing everything in his power to make it harder and harder for us to live. I am told by those in authority it is because he has to make himself appear great by making me look small. This stems from the long-overdue psychiatric report. As it happens, I really don’t mind looking small. Accepting charity has a way of making one humble. Yet sometimes I do wish that God didn’t love me quite so much and show it by all of the responsibility he trusts me with.
“Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him.” James 1:12
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Summer's over
The summer of 2008 was mostly a reprieve from his lunacy. He did, however, manage to NOT pay me $3000 more. Yet in August I was back again in court, for a contempt motion he filed against me saying I had denied visitation. He was now, supposedly, back in the state. He also was petitioning to pay me less. What is less than nothing? I also had a contempt charge that he owed me $22,000 at this point and failed to pay my property taxes. I was equipped with a stack of paperwork from the bank and the town hall. The mortgage company had taken four months of my mortgage payments and applied them to the back taxes, forcing an escrow and putting me behind again. The judge didn’t want to see any of it. He did, however, look at his handwritten receipt from the town clerk which read, “Thank you for your payment.” I tried to nicely tell the judge, who looked as though he were bored out of his mind and couldn’t be bothered by the fact that ten children were about to be homeless, that my evidence was real, legitimate bank statements as opposed to something my husband probably just scribbled while he sat there. The judge woke up briefly and said, “So, the taxes are paid, what’s the big deal?” I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. What was wrong with this court? Why was my evidence not ever allowed to be offered? My husband (and I really have a hard time writing that, but if I only referred to him as “he” this might become confusing) showed the judge a handwritten list of payments he had purportedly paid me, with the embellishment of an extra $65,000. Guess what? He could start paying me $100 a week less.
Ironically, the judge didn’t find me in contempt but I was supposed to drive four of the children at 8:00 a.m. Saturday, and four more 8 a.m. Sunday, with pick-ups both days at 8:30 p.m., at the safe-house 30 miles away. My 15- passenger van gets 9 miles a gallon had just been repaired for over $800. It has 120,000 miles and was all I had. My sixteen-year-old was not allowed to go because my husband felt “threatened” by him. I was to do this every other weekend. When were we supposed to go to Mass? The judge said their relationship with their father was more important. Their Father is at Mass. The man responsible for me giving birth to them had seen them once in a year-and-a-half and was trying to make them homeless.
My attorney told me if they were forced to go, he should have to come to them, he should be made to find a vehicle large enough to accommodate all of them, and that my 16-year-old was to be the “supervisor” if there was no supervised visitation. Most importantly, though, was the little detail that he had no known address, no known work address, no known phone number and he was not made to give me one. I told the judge that no mother in her right mind could let her children go under these circumstances. He told me that I would or I would go to jail.
Ironically, the judge didn’t find me in contempt but I was supposed to drive four of the children at 8:00 a.m. Saturday, and four more 8 a.m. Sunday, with pick-ups both days at 8:30 p.m., at the safe-house 30 miles away. My 15- passenger van gets 9 miles a gallon had just been repaired for over $800. It has 120,000 miles and was all I had. My sixteen-year-old was not allowed to go because my husband felt “threatened” by him. I was to do this every other weekend. When were we supposed to go to Mass? The judge said their relationship with their father was more important. Their Father is at Mass. The man responsible for me giving birth to them had seen them once in a year-and-a-half and was trying to make them homeless.
My attorney told me if they were forced to go, he should have to come to them, he should be made to find a vehicle large enough to accommodate all of them, and that my 16-year-old was to be the “supervisor” if there was no supervised visitation. Most importantly, though, was the little detail that he had no known address, no known work address, no known phone number and he was not made to give me one. I told the judge that no mother in her right mind could let her children go under these circumstances. He told me that I would or I would go to jail.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Summer of 2008
The summer of 2008 was a reprieve from you-know-who. I will write about the fun times we had later. Right now I have to continue to purge the muck out of my system.
Finesse & Gullibility
The g.a.l. had several phone conversations with him, and email contact and every time I went to court she was conversing with him in the hall and walked out with him after. I confronted her on this and she told me she “wasn’t allowed to speak with me.” She is supposed to be the advocate for my children, not him. It was amazing that she was still under his influence seeing as how he had never paid her. Every time I went to court she attached a motion onto my case for her non-payment. I filed a complaint against her citing her prejudice and her not performing her duties. Of course it was dismissed.
In February, a month after these visits, and after several children had birthdays come and go without a present, he started emailing me. Every day. Then twice a day. Then twenty times. He sent me cards. “I miss you and I want to come back,” was the gist of all of the messages. He sent me flowers at work. When I wouldn’t respond he started sending emails saying “This is my daily attempt to see my children, denial of this is against my parental rights.” Over and over he sent these emails, yet he lived in New Jersey and made absolutely no attempt at visitation. He also made no attempt at paying child support.
My attorney called me one day shortly after all of this and asked if I was sitting down. She told me he was just arrested in New Jersey for physically attacking his girlfriend. He was pulled over and found with a large knife in his car. My attorney sent that woman’s attorney copies of my restraining order with the understanding that we would receive a copy of his arrest to prove he was violent and should be made to take his psychological evaluation he was ordered to take in November. He ended up settling out of court by signing over half of the house to her. Half of what house? Mine? I didn’t understand. No, half of the house he purchased with her when my house, that was home to his ten minor children was being threatened with foreclosure and had a lien put on when he failed to pay the back taxes. He told the New Jersey court he couldn’t have another criminal offense because he wouldn’t be allowed to carry arms in the army. He hadn’t been in the army since 1992, before I knew him. He lost his right to bear arms when I was issued my restraining order the year before. His girlfriend refused to send my lawyer any of the paperwork after they settled. “Lori, just wants to get on with her life,” is what her attorney said. And my life will continue when exactly?
In February, a month after these visits, and after several children had birthdays come and go without a present, he started emailing me. Every day. Then twice a day. Then twenty times. He sent me cards. “I miss you and I want to come back,” was the gist of all of the messages. He sent me flowers at work. When I wouldn’t respond he started sending emails saying “This is my daily attempt to see my children, denial of this is against my parental rights.” Over and over he sent these emails, yet he lived in New Jersey and made absolutely no attempt at visitation. He also made no attempt at paying child support.
My attorney called me one day shortly after all of this and asked if I was sitting down. She told me he was just arrested in New Jersey for physically attacking his girlfriend. He was pulled over and found with a large knife in his car. My attorney sent that woman’s attorney copies of my restraining order with the understanding that we would receive a copy of his arrest to prove he was violent and should be made to take his psychological evaluation he was ordered to take in November. He ended up settling out of court by signing over half of the house to her. Half of what house? Mine? I didn’t understand. No, half of the house he purchased with her when my house, that was home to his ten minor children was being threatened with foreclosure and had a lien put on when he failed to pay the back taxes. He told the New Jersey court he couldn’t have another criminal offense because he wouldn’t be allowed to carry arms in the army. He hadn’t been in the army since 1992, before I knew him. He lost his right to bear arms when I was issued my restraining order the year before. His girlfriend refused to send my lawyer any of the paperwork after they settled. “Lori, just wants to get on with her life,” is what her attorney said. And my life will continue when exactly?
The end of 2007
In December of 2007, he wanted visitation at Christmas, and insisted the kids be appointed an attorney, which was granted him. She came to my house and interviewed all of the kids individually and as a group. Right away I didn’t like her, the kids didn’t either. She had that saccharine voice that adults use with children when they underestimate their age or comprehension level. “Hi, boys and girls! Would you like to see your daddy?”
They all said they didn’t want to see him and if they were forced to they wanted to go together. The younger two didn’t even know who he was. Of course, Dominic was a year-and-a-half at this point and not exactly fluent in English. Jordan was three. When the g.a.l. (guardian ad litem) asked her if she missed him, Jordan answered “No, he’s right there,” and pointed to one of my older sons. The g.a.l. was told to contact DCF, the children’s doctor and their ballet school teachers (they all danced 7 days a week at this point and since I homeschooled it was the closest non-related adult relationship). She was even told to contact our priest. I asked her to please talk to every adult who could testify as to the nature of the children. She never contacted anyone. He was ordered to pay her initial retainer. He never did. The children were supposed to see him as a group the week after Christmas. He made up a story that Ian, my son entering the seminary, threatened him with physical violence. As a result, she scheduled visitations with four of the younger children at a safe-house a half an hour away from me, then four more the next day. He could leave with them for twelve hours after he checked in. The older two boys were supervised by a volunteer for an hour on a different day. It made no sense. I felt sick the whole time but I complied.
My thirteen-year-old daughter had my cell phone the day she went on visitation with her sisters. She called me every fifteen minutes from the bathroom, until he took the cell phone away from her and got my (recently changed) number from it. The next week he proceeded to call me every two minutes starting from 2 am. I filed a police report and he lost his phone contact with me. After his visits, the kids came back screaming, I witnessed it when I picked them up and my daughter told me it was like that the whole time. He told them that he wanted to come home and I wouldn’t let him. He showed them letters I supposedly wrote to him, saying how none of the children were biologically his and when they asked to see these letters closer up, he said never mind. He did the same thing with the boys. Over lunch he told my twelve-year-old son that he wasn’t his. He told the boys that he had to leave because I had done something horribly bad, too bad for him to even mention. That even though I was so abominable, he was willing to forgive me and come back. When the twelve-year-old told him he was full of crap, he threatened to pound him.
When Ian and Derek met with him at “Kidsafe,” he again dramatized the assertion that I was a whore and none of the children were his, and that I had done something very, very, bad, and even though I was very, very bad, he was willing to take me back. He told this gullible woman that he was working four jobs and giving me all of his money. She told him how “beautiful” it was that he was so willing to forgive and working so hard to support us. The boys called him a liar and walked out. When the woman could stop blowing her nose long enough that was running because of the tears she had shed at his academy award performance, wrote that my boys had “anger issues.”
If anyone had anger issues at this time, it was me. Ian and Derek calmly walked away. The next weekend I showed that woman the child support check he had bounced on me after he made a great show of presenting it to her first to pass on to me. “Hey, look naïve woman, I support my kids!” I told her like it was, through clenched teeth. She told me I could get a winter coat at the shelter down the street. Yes, I had anger issues. The judge, the g.a.l., and the Kidsafe lady couldn’t see the wolf through his layers of fleece. There is such a thing as righteous anger.
They all said they didn’t want to see him and if they were forced to they wanted to go together. The younger two didn’t even know who he was. Of course, Dominic was a year-and-a-half at this point and not exactly fluent in English. Jordan was three. When the g.a.l. (guardian ad litem) asked her if she missed him, Jordan answered “No, he’s right there,” and pointed to one of my older sons. The g.a.l. was told to contact DCF, the children’s doctor and their ballet school teachers (they all danced 7 days a week at this point and since I homeschooled it was the closest non-related adult relationship). She was even told to contact our priest. I asked her to please talk to every adult who could testify as to the nature of the children. She never contacted anyone. He was ordered to pay her initial retainer. He never did. The children were supposed to see him as a group the week after Christmas. He made up a story that Ian, my son entering the seminary, threatened him with physical violence. As a result, she scheduled visitations with four of the younger children at a safe-house a half an hour away from me, then four more the next day. He could leave with them for twelve hours after he checked in. The older two boys were supervised by a volunteer for an hour on a different day. It made no sense. I felt sick the whole time but I complied.
My thirteen-year-old daughter had my cell phone the day she went on visitation with her sisters. She called me every fifteen minutes from the bathroom, until he took the cell phone away from her and got my (recently changed) number from it. The next week he proceeded to call me every two minutes starting from 2 am. I filed a police report and he lost his phone contact with me. After his visits, the kids came back screaming, I witnessed it when I picked them up and my daughter told me it was like that the whole time. He told them that he wanted to come home and I wouldn’t let him. He showed them letters I supposedly wrote to him, saying how none of the children were biologically his and when they asked to see these letters closer up, he said never mind. He did the same thing with the boys. Over lunch he told my twelve-year-old son that he wasn’t his. He told the boys that he had to leave because I had done something horribly bad, too bad for him to even mention. That even though I was so abominable, he was willing to forgive me and come back. When the twelve-year-old told him he was full of crap, he threatened to pound him.
When Ian and Derek met with him at “Kidsafe,” he again dramatized the assertion that I was a whore and none of the children were his, and that I had done something very, very, bad, and even though I was very, very bad, he was willing to take me back. He told this gullible woman that he was working four jobs and giving me all of his money. She told him how “beautiful” it was that he was so willing to forgive and working so hard to support us. The boys called him a liar and walked out. When the woman could stop blowing her nose long enough that was running because of the tears she had shed at his academy award performance, wrote that my boys had “anger issues.”
If anyone had anger issues at this time, it was me. Ian and Derek calmly walked away. The next weekend I showed that woman the child support check he had bounced on me after he made a great show of presenting it to her first to pass on to me. “Hey, look naïve woman, I support my kids!” I told her like it was, through clenched teeth. She told me I could get a winter coat at the shelter down the street. Yes, I had anger issues. The judge, the g.a.l., and the Kidsafe lady couldn’t see the wolf through his layers of fleece. There is such a thing as righteous anger.
DCF
My attorney quit in November because “she couldn’t stand him” or his attorney. She couldn’t stand him? I think the real reason she quit was because I couldn’t pay her. After her initial retainer, I had paid her $7000 more and still owed about another $7000. We were nowhere near getting divorced, he was out of state, and he was deliberately asking for anything and everything I still had left; namely the house and the kids. I was referred by a parishioner to a new attorney who took on my case pro bono. This new attorney thought my case sounded “exciting” and would add some life to her otherwise routine, boring divorce cases. Oh, to be boring!
Also, in November he called DCF and reported that my kids had a “suicide pact.” Supposedly, my son Ian, the seminarian, was the ringleader. Oh, and he also said that my house was full of bugs. The first thing that came to mind was that he was taping me, but the social worker said real bugs, as in insects, all over their beds. It had been 11 months since he had graced this house with his presence, he knew this how? The woman was really nice and tried to alleviate my panic (I was a homeschooler, after all, we had a tenuous fear of DCF). She told me that right off the bat she thought he was full of it, on the basis that he had called her 200 times checking to see if she had come to investigate me yet. By law, she had to come and check it out. She looked around cursorily, interviewed all of the children of reason, separate and together, and made her conclusion. “All of your kids are happy, healthy, and glad he’s gone, “she said. For Thanksgiving, we had a full Trader Joe turkey meal, and all of the kids got some really nice Christmas presents that year. I could actually thank him for turning me into DCF.
Also, in November he called DCF and reported that my kids had a “suicide pact.” Supposedly, my son Ian, the seminarian, was the ringleader. Oh, and he also said that my house was full of bugs. The first thing that came to mind was that he was taping me, but the social worker said real bugs, as in insects, all over their beds. It had been 11 months since he had graced this house with his presence, he knew this how? The woman was really nice and tried to alleviate my panic (I was a homeschooler, after all, we had a tenuous fear of DCF). She told me that right off the bat she thought he was full of it, on the basis that he had called her 200 times checking to see if she had come to investigate me yet. By law, she had to come and check it out. She looked around cursorily, interviewed all of the children of reason, separate and together, and made her conclusion. “All of your kids are happy, healthy, and glad he’s gone, “she said. For Thanksgiving, we had a full Trader Joe turkey meal, and all of the kids got some really nice Christmas presents that year. I could actually thank him for turning me into DCF.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Third shift at the nursing home
Third shift was not what one would expect, sitting around chatting with the staff or catching up on a good book while the residents who couldn’t sleep rang for a glass of water. Hell, no. Third shift was non-stop rounds, of about a dozen patients, mostly bedridden who you were expected to change (yes, as in diapers) and make wake up enough to drink a few sips of ginger ale or juice, so by the time you were done with the last, the first would be ready to drink and be changed all over again. There was enough time in between because there were a few who could actually ambulate, with a great deal of help, and these were expected to get out of bed and into the toilet. At the end of a shift I was exhausted, as I’m sure these poor residents were with their broken sleep I inflicted upon them.
Around the middle of November I got a phone call from Fr. Les, the new pastor of our parish. The cemetery manager had just resigned and he was wondering if I wanted the job, I could start immediately, have a desk at the rectory, and work about fifteen hours a week for $12 an hour. Technically, I would be my son’s boss and another man named Jose, who had been a cemetery worker and fixture for twenty-odd years. Jose had actually made the new secretary quit, and a “rectory groupie” had stepped right in while Father was away, but that is a story in itself for another time.
I took the job, and kept the other one, too. Most mornings I went straight to the rectory from the nursing home and changed out of my scrubs in the bathroom. At noon, when I would get home I would attempt to sleep a couple hours while the kids did their school, but mostly I would scream “shut up” from my bed a million times and not sleep at all. Most of what went on during this time is a blur, I was severely sleep-deprived, and not just from working around the clock. I hadn’t slept through a single night much of that whole year. I couldn’t shut off my thoughts with the light. Then two things happened which made life a little easier; the charge nurse scheduled me for Christmas Eve, and New Year’s Eve second shift and said I had to do it, I was the new guy. When I tried to explain how these would be the first holidays my kids would have with just me, and I couldn’t abandon them at this joyous time of year, I was told I worked in a health-care facility, too bad. That was the first thing, and it doesn’t appear to have lightened my load, but Fr. Les found out I had been working both jobs and offered me full time at the rectory. Heck, it was a dollar more an hour, minus the diapers. I accepted and invited him and Fr. Cas for Thanksgiving.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Becoming a nurse's aide
The summer of 2007 brought with it Monsignor’s retirement. The new pastor wouldn’t be installed until September which left the church in the hands of an administrator for a couple of months. The transitional deacon that was assigned there had become one of my newest best friends and informed me that Monsignor’s secretary was retiring with him and to get my resume in there with a cover letter stating, “that I had eleven good reasons” to excel at the job. The associate pastor also put in a good word for me. He considered himself my children’s “Grandpa,” the only one they ever had. My application was the only one in there for over a month, until the administrator advertised the job and hired someone non-local. I was devastated, of course, even though I knew I wasn’t qualified, I also knew I was an extremely quick learner.
September 2007 was the Catholic homeschoolers book sale. They donated all of their money to me by way of paying for me to attend CNA school. I was extremely grateful that they would do that for me, but I was not at all certain I wanted to be a nurse’s aide. I did need a job, that was undeniable. So, to nurse’s aide class I went, at the local community college. I actually enjoyed studying the anatomy and physiology and got A’s on all my tests. I was always a good student (in college, anyway). I was hired at graduation by the nursing home I had done my clinical training in. I was first in my class. The pay was $11 an hour, with the third shift differential. Needless to say, I was a little disappointed.
The saga continues...
One random night he called my son, who had just turned eighteen, and who was applying to the seminary and told him that he hoped, “someday he would meet a woman as beautiful and sexy as his girlfriend was and that she was a good Christian woman who could quote scripture and looked awesome in a bikini.” My son told him that the devil could quote scripture, too, and hung up. This was shortly after he had written me a letter citing different statutes he most likely had looked up on lawyer.com telling me that since Ian was now eighteen, he would be deducting one hundred dollars a week out of his child support (how $100 was 1/10 of $800 was beyond me). He would also be on his own for insurance. This man never had insurance for the kids. It was ordered, but the cards were never produced. I had had state insurance on the children and myself for the better part of our marriage, and still did now, but you couldn’t be on state insurance when you reached eighteen, even if you were a full time college student.
He had his paycheck attached finally around April. In June, he moved with his “fiancée” to New Jersey, quit bank of America and went to PNC Bank. No more attached check. In all of this time, he did not see the children, or write, or call. He was supposed to send me $1733, twice a month because he got paid bi-weekly. He sent $1600, until December, when he sent nothing. Merry Christmas! He was ordered to pay my property taxes (which were not escrowed), in November. He never did. He stuck me with an adjustable mortgage which went up to 9% in December. I had repeatedly mentioned to my attorney since day one of court proceedings that I was nervous about the adjustable mortgage. Financial whiz that he was, he opted to save money by going adjustable, using the argument that he worked at the bank and it would just be a formality when the time came to “fix” it. Of course he wouldn’t fix it now.
He had his paycheck attached finally around April. In June, he moved with his “fiancée” to New Jersey, quit bank of America and went to PNC Bank. No more attached check. In all of this time, he did not see the children, or write, or call. He was supposed to send me $1733, twice a month because he got paid bi-weekly. He sent $1600, until December, when he sent nothing. Merry Christmas! He was ordered to pay my property taxes (which were not escrowed), in November. He never did. He stuck me with an adjustable mortgage which went up to 9% in December. I had repeatedly mentioned to my attorney since day one of court proceedings that I was nervous about the adjustable mortgage. Financial whiz that he was, he opted to save money by going adjustable, using the argument that he worked at the bank and it would just be a formality when the time came to “fix” it. Of course he wouldn’t fix it now.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
His exploits
And I was right. The next day he drove up my driveway in a rented Humvee and called me from his cell phone demanding his keys back from the car my son had “stolen.” “You let him borrow it while you were on your “business trip,” I reminded him. “And how are you going to drive two cars away?” My oldest son was home visiting at this time and standing next to me at the front door. I opened the door a crack and tossed his keys out in the snow. The next thing I knew I was thrown back against the wall from the force of the door he kicked in. My son dialed 911.
When the officers came, my husband was back at work, having gotten scared when he saw my son with the phone. The times in our past when he had gotten violent, he would rip the phone out of the wall to prevent me from contacting help. Spousal abuse and battery are for one purpose: to gain and maintain total control over the victim. In addition to physical violence, abusers use several other tactics to exert power over their wives. Two of these are isolation and intimidation. He wants to scare you into submission, and keep you from the outside world. A third party is never allowed to know your business, especially one who might know him and think less of him.
The officers who came were extremely supportive and sympathetic. One was even a homeschooling father. He had zero tolerance for my husband, who was escorted from his bank office in handcuffs and arrested. I’m not sure who bailed him out or how long he ended up having to stay, but found he was ordered to go to anger management counseling. This was the third time he was repeating the course.
By March, with no money but what friends had loaned me, I filed legal separation so I would get child support, he counter-sued with divorce. Divorce was what I really wanted, as I would never consider taking him back after what he had done, both physically and emotionally. I was unduly relieved that he was the one that filed, I wanted to prove to myself and God that I could remain loyal to my Catholic faith until the end. Although, Canon Law had me covered:
Can. 1153 §1 A spouse who occasions grave danger of soul or body to the other or to the children, or otherwise makes the common life unduly difficult, provides the other spouse with a reason to leave, either by a decree of the local Ordinary or, if there is danger in delay, even on his or her own authority.
As time went on, this Canon would apply to a much greater extent.
He was ordered to pay me $800 a week family support, and give me half of his substantial quarterly bonuses. Throughout our marriage he had made $45,000 a year if we were lucky, the year he left he made about $90,000. My lawyer subpoenaed his bank records. This was how I found out where he had gone on vacation, when he had claimed to be on his business trip in Florida. There were several charges for bars and gift shops in the Dominican Republic. About a month later I received the authentic proof that it was in fact a vacation for two. I got the pictures through his email when he shut my son and I off of his internet account. We called AT & T to get our email back and they logged us back on through his account because he was primary. Quite shockingly, we saw his vacation and “engagement” photos. There she was with him on the beach on a horse, captioned “Dominican.” And even more appallingly, them sitting together on a fireplace ledge with her flashing a big diamond ring. The receipt for said diamond was actually mailed to my house. I was not allowed to show any pictures or receipts in court. The judge didn’t care. My son didn’t get financial aid because the prior year’s tax refund said we made too much. Eleven of us lived on $22,000.
When the officers came, my husband was back at work, having gotten scared when he saw my son with the phone. The times in our past when he had gotten violent, he would rip the phone out of the wall to prevent me from contacting help. Spousal abuse and battery are for one purpose: to gain and maintain total control over the victim. In addition to physical violence, abusers use several other tactics to exert power over their wives. Two of these are isolation and intimidation. He wants to scare you into submission, and keep you from the outside world. A third party is never allowed to know your business, especially one who might know him and think less of him.
The officers who came were extremely supportive and sympathetic. One was even a homeschooling father. He had zero tolerance for my husband, who was escorted from his bank office in handcuffs and arrested. I’m not sure who bailed him out or how long he ended up having to stay, but found he was ordered to go to anger management counseling. This was the third time he was repeating the course.
By March, with no money but what friends had loaned me, I filed legal separation so I would get child support, he counter-sued with divorce. Divorce was what I really wanted, as I would never consider taking him back after what he had done, both physically and emotionally. I was unduly relieved that he was the one that filed, I wanted to prove to myself and God that I could remain loyal to my Catholic faith until the end. Although, Canon Law had me covered:
Can. 1153 §1 A spouse who occasions grave danger of soul or body to the other or to the children, or otherwise makes the common life unduly difficult, provides the other spouse with a reason to leave, either by a decree of the local Ordinary or, if there is danger in delay, even on his or her own authority.
As time went on, this Canon would apply to a much greater extent.
He was ordered to pay me $800 a week family support, and give me half of his substantial quarterly bonuses. Throughout our marriage he had made $45,000 a year if we were lucky, the year he left he made about $90,000. My lawyer subpoenaed his bank records. This was how I found out where he had gone on vacation, when he had claimed to be on his business trip in Florida. There were several charges for bars and gift shops in the Dominican Republic. About a month later I received the authentic proof that it was in fact a vacation for two. I got the pictures through his email when he shut my son and I off of his internet account. We called AT & T to get our email back and they logged us back on through his account because he was primary. Quite shockingly, we saw his vacation and “engagement” photos. There she was with him on the beach on a horse, captioned “Dominican.” And even more appallingly, them sitting together on a fireplace ledge with her flashing a big diamond ring. The receipt for said diamond was actually mailed to my house. I was not allowed to show any pictures or receipts in court. The judge didn’t care. My son didn’t get financial aid because the prior year’s tax refund said we made too much. Eleven of us lived on $22,000.
He goes on vacation
In January, he filed our income tax return and had the $9900 direct-deposited into his new private account. When I called the bank to say it was illegally done, and I had not agreed to that or signed the return I had a restraining order in the mail the next day saying I couldn’t enter a Bank of America again. His new apartment was about a half hour away. He had just been transferred two minutes from home, after commuting forty-five minutes each way for the past year. One weekend, my son and I went to his apartment complex to see if he was alone (I didn’t know it was her apartment yet). There was no one there, but his car was in the lot, so we drove it home. Two days later he called furious that we had “stolen” his car. I asked him why he didn’t miss it. He said he was on a business trip. I later found when my lawyer subpoenaed his bank records, he went to New York City with her and spent several hundred dollars on the Presidential Suite, dinners out, museums, and clothing stores called “Phat”. Something he would never do with me, although I would never wear Phat. I begged him throughout our marriage to go to museums. He always said who wanted to waste their time looking at paint?
Another time I was at ballet with the kids and went to the ATM so I could get them the dollar menu for dinner, and was told my balance was negative. So I went into the bank where I was told he had used my debit card to reserve his hotel room. I called him several times until he answered and when he did he screamed at me for not packing a sandwich from home. He was at the Ritz Carlton in Philadelphia on another “business trip.” I don’t know why I hadn’t switched banks already, probably because I didn’t have an adequate amount of money to worry about. That is until I didn’t have access to $20.
In February he called me and actually sounded apologetic. He said he missed me. He said he was going on another business trip, this time for a week, and that my son could use his car. All I had was a fifteen passenger van, and my son had recently gotten his license, with nothing to drive. I didn’t yet know about “her” being on his “business” trips. I had my suspicions, of course, but pride refused my complete belief in him having found someone better than me. When he got back, he told me, we would go see our own pastor together and work things out. He would call me from Florida.
After two days and no ring I tried him a couple times but his phone was off. Intuition told me to phone the bank and ask for him. Of course I didn’t say who I was. They said he was on vacation. I called her branch and got the same reply. That’s when I knew for sure. It was a feeling akin to the palpitations I experienced at my mother’s wake fifteen years earlier. Adrenaline, forcing my heart to burst. At the end of the week he called, pleasant as could be, saying he was back and wanting his car. He also wanted to meet me at the rectory, still, to talk to Monsignor, our pastor about him coming back home. I played along, told him to make the appointment, and that I would meet him there. When I arrived at church, he was already there, and must have been using her car, as his was still in my driveway. Monsignor had me staple Confirmation programs while he took him into his office first, for confession and a chat. I waited an hour, stapling. Monsignor had seen me at Mass with my children every Sunday, alone, since he had moved out. I drove my boys to serve funerals at least twice a week. We always helped Monsignor with what he needed, and he often remarked to me what a good mother I was. I figured Monsignor would give him a good tongue-lashing, lots of penance, and honor my decision not to take him back in light of what he had done. I was wearing a size two at this point and getting over walking pneumonia. When Monsignor brought me into his office, I saw the he (my husband) was sunburned with a peeling nose.
I sat. Monsignor went behind his desk and sat, leaned forward, and pointed his finger in my face. “Why don’t you take the plank out of your own eye?” He asked me, rather cruelly. What? What had happened in that hour I was stapling? For two months I had been alone with ten children, no money, and pneumonia in the middle of a New England winter. My husband looked fresh from the beach. Hello, I’m the good mother you speak so highly of, what could this man possibly have said to you and with what charism that you don’t see the evidence before you? He left me. “You were married before,” Monsignor continued. Yes, that was no secret. My oldest three were not biologically my husband’s, but he had legally adopted them. Then we had eight more. What did that have to do with it? “Yes,” I said. “So was he.” “But you had children,” Monsignor continued. Yes, they were at the wedding. I wasn’t getting this.
“If he accepted your children as his, then you’ll take him back, he wants to come home.”
“But Monsignor, he had an affair, he just got back yesterday from vacation with his girlfriend. Look how tan he is for Christ’s sake!”
“You will watch your mouth and take him back for the sake of your children.”
“Monsignor, he hasn’t seen the children in two months. He took all of our money. All we have is what Ian makes at the cemetery.” My son Ian, who was a full time college student, had been working at the church cemetery about 15-20 hours a week and giving his paycheck to the family.
This is when he finally spoke up, and I realized fully just what I had been married to for fourteen years. “On vacation,” he cagily began, “are you crazy? I was on a business trip. You’ve lost your mind. And I entrusted my kids to you? On vacation, ha!”
This is when I got up and walked out. It is also when I realized that if he could turn my own pastor against me in the space of an hour, I was going to have an epic battle on my hands.
Another time I was at ballet with the kids and went to the ATM so I could get them the dollar menu for dinner, and was told my balance was negative. So I went into the bank where I was told he had used my debit card to reserve his hotel room. I called him several times until he answered and when he did he screamed at me for not packing a sandwich from home. He was at the Ritz Carlton in Philadelphia on another “business trip.” I don’t know why I hadn’t switched banks already, probably because I didn’t have an adequate amount of money to worry about. That is until I didn’t have access to $20.
In February he called me and actually sounded apologetic. He said he missed me. He said he was going on another business trip, this time for a week, and that my son could use his car. All I had was a fifteen passenger van, and my son had recently gotten his license, with nothing to drive. I didn’t yet know about “her” being on his “business” trips. I had my suspicions, of course, but pride refused my complete belief in him having found someone better than me. When he got back, he told me, we would go see our own pastor together and work things out. He would call me from Florida.
After two days and no ring I tried him a couple times but his phone was off. Intuition told me to phone the bank and ask for him. Of course I didn’t say who I was. They said he was on vacation. I called her branch and got the same reply. That’s when I knew for sure. It was a feeling akin to the palpitations I experienced at my mother’s wake fifteen years earlier. Adrenaline, forcing my heart to burst. At the end of the week he called, pleasant as could be, saying he was back and wanting his car. He also wanted to meet me at the rectory, still, to talk to Monsignor, our pastor about him coming back home. I played along, told him to make the appointment, and that I would meet him there. When I arrived at church, he was already there, and must have been using her car, as his was still in my driveway. Monsignor had me staple Confirmation programs while he took him into his office first, for confession and a chat. I waited an hour, stapling. Monsignor had seen me at Mass with my children every Sunday, alone, since he had moved out. I drove my boys to serve funerals at least twice a week. We always helped Monsignor with what he needed, and he often remarked to me what a good mother I was. I figured Monsignor would give him a good tongue-lashing, lots of penance, and honor my decision not to take him back in light of what he had done. I was wearing a size two at this point and getting over walking pneumonia. When Monsignor brought me into his office, I saw the he (my husband) was sunburned with a peeling nose.
I sat. Monsignor went behind his desk and sat, leaned forward, and pointed his finger in my face. “Why don’t you take the plank out of your own eye?” He asked me, rather cruelly. What? What had happened in that hour I was stapling? For two months I had been alone with ten children, no money, and pneumonia in the middle of a New England winter. My husband looked fresh from the beach. Hello, I’m the good mother you speak so highly of, what could this man possibly have said to you and with what charism that you don’t see the evidence before you? He left me. “You were married before,” Monsignor continued. Yes, that was no secret. My oldest three were not biologically my husband’s, but he had legally adopted them. Then we had eight more. What did that have to do with it? “Yes,” I said. “So was he.” “But you had children,” Monsignor continued. Yes, they were at the wedding. I wasn’t getting this.
“If he accepted your children as his, then you’ll take him back, he wants to come home.”
“But Monsignor, he had an affair, he just got back yesterday from vacation with his girlfriend. Look how tan he is for Christ’s sake!”
“You will watch your mouth and take him back for the sake of your children.”
“Monsignor, he hasn’t seen the children in two months. He took all of our money. All we have is what Ian makes at the cemetery.” My son Ian, who was a full time college student, had been working at the church cemetery about 15-20 hours a week and giving his paycheck to the family.
This is when he finally spoke up, and I realized fully just what I had been married to for fourteen years. “On vacation,” he cagily began, “are you crazy? I was on a business trip. You’ve lost your mind. And I entrusted my kids to you? On vacation, ha!”
This is when I got up and walked out. It is also when I realized that if he could turn my own pastor against me in the space of an hour, I was going to have an epic battle on my hands.
He leaves
He left January 1, 2007. He got a new personal cell phone with a private number. We went to Retrouvaille shortly after his move, it was actually his idea. I spent the two days, the only time we had ever been away from the children our whole marriage, journaling my heart out and crying into box after box of Kleenex. On the second day, I was in the room, he was downstairs with the men and the priest of 40 years in charge of the conference, and I saw his new cell phone sitting there. I had a feeling. It said “new text messages.” I was unfamiliar with text-messaging but I could get the ones out that were sent to him. They said, “I hope you’re not too cold skiing with your father,” “I went to Victoria’s Secret for you,” and “I can’t wait to rip your clothes off when you come back.” I dialed the number on the phone, told her where I was and what I was doing, and asked her if she knew he had eleven children. When he came back to the room, I threw the ice water on him from the bucket our wine had been chilling in and told him about my call. He called me a bitch, threw his stuff into his suitcase and left me in the hotel alone with no car and no money. I went downstairs where the priest was locking up and told him what had happened. The sweet old priest, who had been leading Retrouvaille for years, said he had never met someone so despicable and that my sons should drag him out in the woods and beat him. My oldest son drove the two hours at two a.m. to pick me up. I later found out he was living with her at this time.
There are conflicting viewpoints and opinions about infidelity as it relates to acceptable grounds for a Catholic to be divorced. Actually, there are no grounds and a Catholic can only be divorced civilly; in the eyes of the Church they are still sacramentally married until annulment, which is another story and only necessary if one plans on remarriage. The Code of Canon Law says this:
Can. 1152 §1 It is earnestly recommended that a spouse, motivated by Christian charity and solicitous for the good of the family, should not refuse to pardon an adulterous partner and should not sunder the conjugal life. Nevertheless, if that spouse has not either expressly or tacitly condoned the other’s fault, he or she has the right to sever the common conjugal life, provided he or she has not consented to the adultery, nor been the cause of it, nor also committed adultery.
Personally, at this moment in my life, I had never felt more betrayed, and although I didn’t know for sure the ultimate act of infidelity had taken place (I was still in denial), I could not forgive him for the humiliation and torment he had put me through these past months. I called an attorney I had known in the past and begged her to take me on as a client. She was reluctant, as I had no money whatsoever, but she agreed with the arrangement that I would send her some as soon as I could. I still at this point wasn’t seeking a civil divorce, but a legal separation so child support could be put into place, I was penniless and hadn’t worked outside of the home in years.
When I finally was able to tell a close girlfriend what had happened, and broke the unnatural command of silence he had enforced upon me, it was an analgesic that soothed more than the cocktails I had taken to drinking at night. I could not sleep. My mind would fly in a million directions and myriad questions would haunt me: How would I pay the bills? Put food on the table? How would I ever find a job? What would I ever qualify to do? How could I continue homeschooling? How do I get up in the morning and be a good mother when I’m up all night wondering how I’m going to be a good mother? My friend helped in these matters by immediately taking charge and taking me shopping. She filled my van with groceries, she had her sister donate diapers by the case, coffee, wine, and chocolate, and she got donations from her father and brother which went to my attorney’s retainer. She was my first angel.
There are conflicting viewpoints and opinions about infidelity as it relates to acceptable grounds for a Catholic to be divorced. Actually, there are no grounds and a Catholic can only be divorced civilly; in the eyes of the Church they are still sacramentally married until annulment, which is another story and only necessary if one plans on remarriage. The Code of Canon Law says this:
Can. 1152 §1 It is earnestly recommended that a spouse, motivated by Christian charity and solicitous for the good of the family, should not refuse to pardon an adulterous partner and should not sunder the conjugal life. Nevertheless, if that spouse has not either expressly or tacitly condoned the other’s fault, he or she has the right to sever the common conjugal life, provided he or she has not consented to the adultery, nor been the cause of it, nor also committed adultery.
Personally, at this moment in my life, I had never felt more betrayed, and although I didn’t know for sure the ultimate act of infidelity had taken place (I was still in denial), I could not forgive him for the humiliation and torment he had put me through these past months. I called an attorney I had known in the past and begged her to take me on as a client. She was reluctant, as I had no money whatsoever, but she agreed with the arrangement that I would send her some as soon as I could. I still at this point wasn’t seeking a civil divorce, but a legal separation so child support could be put into place, I was penniless and hadn’t worked outside of the home in years.
When I finally was able to tell a close girlfriend what had happened, and broke the unnatural command of silence he had enforced upon me, it was an analgesic that soothed more than the cocktails I had taken to drinking at night. I could not sleep. My mind would fly in a million directions and myriad questions would haunt me: How would I pay the bills? Put food on the table? How would I ever find a job? What would I ever qualify to do? How could I continue homeschooling? How do I get up in the morning and be a good mother when I’m up all night wondering how I’m going to be a good mother? My friend helped in these matters by immediately taking charge and taking me shopping. She filled my van with groceries, she had her sister donate diapers by the case, coffee, wine, and chocolate, and she got donations from her father and brother which went to my attorney’s retainer. She was my first angel.
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Beginning of the End (of my marriage)
Most women, even in today’s modern world, enter into marriage for life. Women are at their very core romantic and loyal and genetically inclined to guard the hearth and bear children. Feminism aside, women innately are meant to be nurturers, no matter how intelligent, independent, or innovative they may be. A Catholic woman takes marriage, home, and family especially seriously.
What happens to the woman who was born with brains and a potential to be anything yet desired only to be procreative and familial? A woman who felt her place in life was to grow a generation of God-fearing children, despite her own upbringing and wishes of her parents. A woman who delighted in channeling all of her efforts into producing and molding many young minds to love Jesus and Mary and also Latin and Literature. What happens to this woman who did all of this homemaking despite her husband’s moods and faults, through good times and bad, and then found herself alone?
This woman is me. This woman is some of my friends. This woman is many women I know through email groups and friends of friends. This woman feels a loss akin to death at the demise of her marriage. She begins the grieving process: first shock at how this could have possibly happened; physical and emotional distress such as not being able to sleep or eat; anger over being deserted; guilt, perhaps there was something she could have done differently; and depression in the form of despair, unbearable loneliness, and hopelessness.
Three years ago I had a seven-month-old nursing infant and ten older children happily and busily in the midst of the “Nutcracker” production. My husband who had recently begun the best job he’d had our entire marriage also had the biggest temper explosion he had had in quite some time at Thanksgiving, calling me vile names in front of the children. About a week after that he told me he didn’t love me anymore and started spending a lot of time on his cell phone. He also went out alone after work, something he never did. He preferred to spend his time on the computer.
He told me he was moving out and warned me not to say a word about this to anyone, lest I spoil anyone’s Christmas. I lost 20 pounds the month of December and was forced to stop nursing, my milk was gone. He agreed to go see a neutral priest who didn’t know us very well with a marriage counselor present. I sat there and cried, he told them that all he wanted to do was move out so he could date me and get to know me again, because our lives were so busy he didn’t “know me” anymore. They told him that he was crazy, leaving me alone with 10 kids? It would never work, what was he thinking? He screamed at me all the way home and threw his wedding ring in my face. He said he didn’t care what Father recommended, he was moving, period.
What happens to the woman who was born with brains and a potential to be anything yet desired only to be procreative and familial? A woman who felt her place in life was to grow a generation of God-fearing children, despite her own upbringing and wishes of her parents. A woman who delighted in channeling all of her efforts into producing and molding many young minds to love Jesus and Mary and also Latin and Literature. What happens to this woman who did all of this homemaking despite her husband’s moods and faults, through good times and bad, and then found herself alone?
This woman is me. This woman is some of my friends. This woman is many women I know through email groups and friends of friends. This woman feels a loss akin to death at the demise of her marriage. She begins the grieving process: first shock at how this could have possibly happened; physical and emotional distress such as not being able to sleep or eat; anger over being deserted; guilt, perhaps there was something she could have done differently; and depression in the form of despair, unbearable loneliness, and hopelessness.
Three years ago I had a seven-month-old nursing infant and ten older children happily and busily in the midst of the “Nutcracker” production. My husband who had recently begun the best job he’d had our entire marriage also had the biggest temper explosion he had had in quite some time at Thanksgiving, calling me vile names in front of the children. About a week after that he told me he didn’t love me anymore and started spending a lot of time on his cell phone. He also went out alone after work, something he never did. He preferred to spend his time on the computer.
He told me he was moving out and warned me not to say a word about this to anyone, lest I spoil anyone’s Christmas. I lost 20 pounds the month of December and was forced to stop nursing, my milk was gone. He agreed to go see a neutral priest who didn’t know us very well with a marriage counselor present. I sat there and cried, he told them that all he wanted to do was move out so he could date me and get to know me again, because our lives were so busy he didn’t “know me” anymore. They told him that he was crazy, leaving me alone with 10 kids? It would never work, what was he thinking? He screamed at me all the way home and threw his wedding ring in my face. He said he didn’t care what Father recommended, he was moving, period.
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