Scars That Won't Heal

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I went to pick up my three children today. They refused to come with me. My middle daughter wanted to come but not by herself. My son would not come without the eldest daughter, who spoke harshly to me and refused to come.

I am allowed eight hours a week visitation. This is the third time in a row that my children would not come to visit me. I drive away crushed, the tears streaming down my face, my one year old shar pei puppy crying in the passenger seat. She crys too, because our children refuse to come home.

I lost them about a month and a half ago. The judge removed them because we were living with my boyfriend. I made that decision when my landlord backed out of my lease agreement. To move anywhere else would have resulted in my children having to leave the school district they were attending.

The night before I lost my children I asked my oldest daughter if she would be happiest with me continuing to stay home with the three of them or if she would like the added income that my working would provide our family. She said she preferred for me to be at home. So after a night filled with shopping as I bought her a new wardrobe, we headed home to a happy sleep. Little did I know the next night my ex-husband would have them removed on trumped up neglect charges. The judge did not find the charges to be credible, never less he removed them from my care because I was living with Brent. Brent is a fireman/EMT who has the respect of every police officer in this town. He is a kind, caring gentleman who the children liked.

For the past three weeks my only communication with my thirteen year old daughter has been her angry tirades that I watch in disbelief. My boyfriend and my friends caution me against speaking about my case. They feel that the truth is something you have to live through to believe. I speak anyway and many times I find that they are correct.

People look at me wondering if I am a drug addict, abusive, crazy. I am none of these. I am a victim of domestic abuse, both as a child at the hands of my parents, then abused by my ex-husband. He was aided by my parents. They did not want me to leave the marriage. We don’t get divorced in my family and my ex and parents were in business together. Their hands are tied together by the oil income produced by their partnership.

i have seen therapists and psychiatrists. They have found that I truly am a victim of my ex-family and that as a result I suffer from situational depression and some say post traumatic stress.

My story is complex. I have been fighting to escape for the past five years. I am financially ruined. My professional career has been destroyed. Hopefully I can only go up from here. It is impossible to see going any further down. I will survive. I will continue to fight for my children that I love so much. I am not sure if I want to call this parental alienation syndrome. I am not sure if there is a name for the ills that plague my family. I am sure that even with the trials I have faced, I am happy to no longer live with an abusive alcoholic. Even though my lifestyle is considerably less affluent than it was five years ago, it is happier because I no longer wake up married to that man. Even though no one in my family has chosen to stand by my side, I no longer feel like I am living as a prisoner in a bizarre cult.

No one would look at me and think, “That woman is abused.” I come from one of the most affluent families in my home town. People don’t want to look at me as an abused woman now. I never paraded down the streets with my bruises shining. I never told anyone what was happening until he covered my body in bruises, called my parents and they called the police on me. The police spent eight hours trying to get me to prosecute. The DA told me that I shouldn’t because it might go against me in civil court. I am not meek and I am not a joke. I have a doctorate and I will never go back. Despite a restraining order my ex stalks me to this day. I don’t know if my children will ever heal from the harm engendered by these people. I will never heal from the scars that I see on them.

My oldest child does not want to be with me. I am a victim of domestic abuse. My family has been destroyed. Please read my words for I am not alone.


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