Nightmares

Just when I think I have a really good grasp on everything and feeling confident, my subconscious decides to ninja attack me with horrific nightmares about the ex.  Lots of people seem to think that all the bad was condensed into the last extreme event, but I was married to the bloke for almost a year, lasting longer than the previous 2 wives who left after 8 months. Most of that time I was not allowed out of his grasp, restricted in every way imaginable, and was somewhat forced to have sex every day whether I wanted to or not.  The ways in which this occurred were coercion, mocking me, defining a wife, religious manipulation, and every possible emotionally abusive technique under the sun.  He scoffed at my internet use and then used my email to get into porn sites to watch rape porn and incest porn.  I know this because I started getting notifications for new material after I left him.  After being turned on by abominable acts, he would come in where I was sleeping, roll me over and do his thing.  All of this I took in stride, trying to be a good little Christian wife, but it was toxic and wrong.

He would force me to do things that he know I hated, often waiting to spring them on me mid act.  If I began to bleed or hurt, he got so turned on that it was scary.  It became clear that the real things that got him off were subjugating me to increasingly humiliating and painful acts.  So in essence, he didn't rape me the one time, because the mentality was applied to my daily sex life with him... something I was still relatively new to, being that he was my first intercourse partner... Oh yeah and I said no the first time too, but he begged and pleaded until I lost my virginity to pity sex, after he told me that his mother raped him as a child.

My wedding day to the monster in 2001

The few times I tried to initiate sex during my marriage to the monster or attempt to enjoy it, a tantrum would ensue, and eventually lead to me curled into a ball crying at his rage.  The emotional attacks left me emotionally devastated, as he raged at how selfish I was, meanwhile being the reigning brat prince to throw tantrums when things were not just so, from how I dressed, to Christmas decorations (what would the neighbor's think?), to what I said and thought, to what I ate, to how groceries were supposed to be put on the conveyer belt at the grocery store. The message was clear... all I was to him was his toy/maid, his whipping boy, for his pleasure.

Most people would think that when I have nightmares that it's about the physical assault at the end, the kidnapping, the multiple rapes, and the intent to murder me.  Although that was the culmination of the abuse, in some ways it was less stressful.  That was clearly wrong to all by-standers.  Even emotional abusive people would probably agree on that one.  It was the event that finally got people to take notice and listen about the complaints I had, because he was so apt at glamouring people into thinking him the victim and projecting all his evils onto me.  At last people were willing to help me, when before he'd been manipulating people to get me back.

So when I have nightmares, it's not about the physical attack, it's about the emotional siege that I was under for a year of accumulating emotional damage.  It is about the charismatic lies that I'm still untangling, years later, that have continued to damage my reputation long after he was incarcerated.  It is about the stalking, the character assassination, the lies, the rage, and other people believing him.  There is nothing more frustrating or painful than reaching out for help and knowing that nobody has your back, that they would deny you aid because of religious notions.  It was this that forever changed me and my world view.  All the people who were "supposed" to protect and love me, were pushing me back with a monster because he was my "husband", a nomenclature that somehow excused any and all abuse.  I was screaming inside and no one listened, or if they did, they would justify his behavior or try to play devil's advocate, or just in general deny me the aid that I really needed.  It became abundantly clear that my husband was not the only misogynist in my life, and that my worth to others was far less because I was female.  Any and all reactions to my husband were labeled to me being crazy, regardless to behavior on his part.

Sidenote: Great article on calling women crazy. Read it here!

He was  SO good at manipulating people and so charismatic that he almost got released from prison for a picnic with his mom.  His excuse was that I was just crazy and trying to punish him.  When the victim role works on hardened prison guards, you know he's pretty effective. Of course when they contacted the detective, who put a stop to that, because the evidence of his crimes was pretty clear.

I hate lies and always have.  However being married to a psychopath made me hate them even more.  It's that which gives me nightmares, the way he seemed to manipulate and shape the world around him.  He would have people thinking day was night, and turn against me for speaking the truth.  So often that had been the way of it.  Whatever world warping abilities he had, stopped working on me, because there was this core of truth inside me that would scream NO! But often it was silenced.

I remember the exact day that everything changed.  Praying one night, I asked God to help me to see things as they really are.  At the time, I don't think I even meant in the context of my husband, but something else.  However I remember riding in the car with him the next day, and I ... saw ... him.  He turned his head, and to me it looked like there was a skull underneath that looked at me with dead eyes, moving just slightly out of sync.  There's really no way for me to sufficiently explain what I saw, and it may have been a byproduct of the immense emotional turmoil that I was subjected to on a daily basis.  But that moment is indelibly marked in my memory, never fading, nor what happened after.  Suddenly whatever hold he had over me was just ... gone.  His tricks stopped working, and it was almost as if I had been under a spell that had broken.  For the love of him... or at least the person he pretended to be when we were dating, I had done things that I normally would not have done.  I got something back after that, and he seemed dismayed that his power over me was gone. In response, he got increasingly scary. When he attacked me physically, I kung fued him. I was and am a fighter, body and soul. Now more than ever, I know that I can not depend on others to protect me or even support me.  If anything, I learned to trust myself more and others less. I threw off the shackles that others had bound me to all my life, and started really truly thinking for myself. This meant a re-evaluation of many of the beliefs that no longer fit with what I knew to be true.  It's a better place to be.

In my dreams, he's still playing the old games he always played and lying pathologically like he always did. That old frustration of speaking the truth and being called a liar, comes back to play havoc with me again.  It's been an ongoing theme in my life.  I remember from childhood my older brother who was so sure that I was wrong that he laughed when I brought him evidence to prove my point... and still denied it.  I remember telling on the boy who drowned me, and being called a liar for that as well. In fact most of the abusers in my life had that same theme. This was so foreign to me. When I was 3 I had told my mother that Tom and Jerry was starting at 3pm, but the network had changed the times. When they announced that on the television, I started bawling hysterically because I thought that God was going to strike me down right then and there.  Mom had to tell me that being mistaken and lying were different things, before I calmed down.  I can watch violence on TV and never bat an eye, but have a show where people are lying, and it ties me up in knots. Having been a stupid teenager, I have told a very scant few lies in my lifetime, but usually turned around and told the truth quickly thereafter. Certainly I've told far less than I've been accused of, but I didn't always have an iPhone to capture the crazy as it was happening. Sometimes I did...

Won the Mythbusters Sweepstakes...
obviously made that shit up!

There have been some extraordinary experiences in my life that are true, but people just don't want to believe it, because it hasn't happened to them, regardless of things like witnesses.  This mentality is especially frustrating and indicative of an absence of abstract thought.  However since two-thirds of people never reach the final stages of mental development, so it's more common than not.  Some days I feel like Diogenes, holding up a lantern, in search of an honest man.

The deception at the heart of emotional abuse, is what makes up my nightmares. Because every one that is believed causes subtle sometimes irreversible damage.  Someone comes at me with a physical blow or attacks me straight on emotionally, they are in for a battle.  But most abusers are too cowardly for actual confrontation. I might do something like use logic on them, and then what would they do? However, how do you fight a shadow?  You would think shining the light of truth on it would make it vanish, but shadows spread and hide from light.  All I can do is keep shining my own light, and forgive others that aren't that bright. Sure, my subconscious will occasionally decide to replay old frustrations, but it's just a dream.  In so many ways, I'm stronger than I was then. Despite others wanting to attribute preconceived notions to me, I survived, and I dare say that I took what happened and turned it into something positive. My trial by fire only ignited a fire in my hearth that has fueled a search for knowledge and a desire to go after my passions instead of extinguishing them for the pleasure of others. I only hope that I can help pass on that knowledge, so others can see things as they really are.

Here's a really good article on what it's like to deal with sociopaths.  As an empath, I've attracted my fair share, but they give a really good description of what it's like http://www.sott.net/article/268449-Empathic-people-are-natural-targets-for-sociopaths-protect-yourself

Sex Offenders on Facebook

Yesterday I was going through Facebook and blocking a stalker who has repeatedly ignored being told to go away.  The number of faceless Facebook profiles under that name was staggering. But as I entered in the name to block yet another one of this jerk's identities, I decided to enter in the name of the ex.  Low and behold he popped up, the only one on Facebook.

I quickly blocked him and then asked my friends to block him.  He liked to try to get to me through other people, like stalkers and other psychotics enjoy doing.  Yeah, if you have been doing it, take a good look in the mirror.

Anyway, the thing is that according to the Terms of Service agreement with Facebook, Violent Sex Offenders may not use Facebook.  However it's not checked up on. It's a little box that says "do you accept", and what criminal is honest enough to first, read the terms of service, and secondly, be honest about it.

That's where we come in.  When I announced to my friends that he was on Facebook, there were others aware of other registered sex offenders on Facebook.  They were unaware that it was against Facebook's ToS. Most people just think there's another asshole with Facebook, isn't that about half the users?  They ignore or block and carry on.  However this is not just a jerk, this is a convicted felon. They aren't the ones causing flame wars and being jerks openly, although that can happen.  These are people who work in shadows and send private messages to your daughters.

I belong to a group called "keep Violent Sex Offenders off Facebook" but the best defense is us...
If you know one and they are on Facebook, report them to Facebook.  Violent Sex Offenders must register and are listed on government sites.  Simply go to  http://www.nsopr.gov/en-US/Search/Verification and pull up their profile, then submit it to Facebook, who will then pursue the matter further.

After you do that, go back to living your fabulous life.  You did a good deed. Remember you are the first line of defense, not the last line, so help spare a child or another woman from a Sex Offender's grasp.

Carrying is Awkward

So I've been carrying for a month now, and let me tell you, it's weird.  Previously it had been in the fanny-pack of doom, and everyone thought I was just a geeky mom.  There was no real response, because no one ever saw the gun.  Recently I shifted to a crossbreed holster, which makes the gun far more accessible, and going to the bathroom a lot easier.  I know that's a silly thing, but it's something you don't have to worry about until you're there.

Now when I bend over to put Morgan into her carseat, often my shirt comes up and you can see the weapon. Tuesday in the line up picking Morgan up from school (which I never enter, they bring them to the car) I've noticed the teachers don't talk to me anymore (and they are aware of my ex being released).  I heard the lady in the car behind me comment to one of the teachers, so I know it makes others uncomfortable, but it shouldn't.  Yesterday I picked up a friend of mine's daughter from school, ( I had taken off my gun and stowed it in my car, again never entering the school), and she was telling me that the school got wind of a mother who had left her gun in her car, but the mere presence of it, banned her from ever entering the school again. WTF?!?!?

First of all... how many women have perpetrated a school shooting?  What mother would endanger not only other children, but their own?  And if a school shooting did happen, I guarantee, most armed parents would probably risk their own life for their child's.  Most school shootings are not done by a parent or teacher, but an outsider, usually male, or a student... again usually male.  Not exclusively, I realize, but all you have to do is look at prison populations to know that females are lower risk.

A gun in the hand of a woman, evens the playing field where half the population could probably overpower them by sheer mass alone.  The vast majority of my female friends have been raped and/or molested, which speaks volumes to the very real threat of sexual violence from men, which could be easily defended with a weapon not dependent on strength. There are far more people raped and molested than there are shot, which leads me to my inappropriate comment the other day, "Why yes, I have a gun. You have a cock. I'll give mine up, when you give up yours. I've been raped, have you ever been shot? Which is more likely to cause harm in the wrong hands?"

As I sat in the line of cars, waiting to pick up my friend's daughter, I thought what if the tables were turned, what if every parent here were armed, and an incident happened.  But then if parents and teachers were armed, the likelihood of an incident happening at all would drop significantly.  At the recent mall shooting in another country, armed men took over and killed people at their leisure. The authorities began to realize that it never would have happened if even a couple of people in the mall had been armed at the time.

Being dependent on other people for your protection, period, is a bad bet. I lived next to the Sheriff's daughter, when my incident went down, and not a scream or cry was responded to that night.  I could not call for help, because he pulled all the phone cords out of the walls, and it's hard to dial when you're in the midst of the fight of your life, and someone's trying to tie you up with duct tape.  Part of the torture of the event, was that I was within spitting distance of a knife that I kept near the bed.  I stared at it, wishing I was telekinetic, trying to pull a skywalker to no avail.  Weapons nearby can seem a million miles away, if you can't get to them in time.  There's no guarantee you'll make it to them.  Police wouldn't be able to do anything until after a crime is committed, and by then it's too late, even if you happen to make that call.

From the awkward looks, and uncomfortable expressions of others, I was starting to wonder about carrying, but after being stalked so often, I know that attacks can come at any point in your life's pattern, which they often observe ahead of time.  What sealed it though, is a ranting stream of consciousness email from a friend of mine's stalker, who I suppose is now mine too.  He's been blocked, warned, and told to fuck off, but he keeps coming back, because ... these people's minds do not work like normal people.  Psychopaths and their obsessive ilk have brains that literally do not function properly. It's one of the reasons that there is no rehabilitation for a psychopath. There is literally no cure for them. Go watch Dexter...

Still it's hilarious that a known stalker, in the process of stalking would advise me to not carry a gun.  Of course he would! Mr. Ignores Restraining Orders would love for his targets to be unarmed and vulnerable. After all, someone doing things worthy of being shot, would like their victims to be unarmed.  Thieves would love for you to turn the alarms off and leave the doors unlocked.  Rapists would appreciate it if you didn't carry mace.  And cyberstalkers would really like me to not call them out on their shit while they are actively stalking.

To those who don't seem to get it. Stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. Stalking behaviors are related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them. Cyberstalking is the use of computers or other electronic technology to facilitate stalking. "Stalking is a form of mental assault, in which the perpetrator repeatedly, unwantedly, and disruptively breaks into the life-world of the victim, with whom they have no relationship (or no longer have)."

Nothing could be a more solid supporting statement in favor of carrying than a stalker recommending against it.  Wolves will always vote away the sheep's defenses.  After all, there might be consequences when they ignore your basic human rights, and that would be horrible, because they know they are better than everyone else.  Sounds like a political statement... about people wanting to exploit you and not wanting you to be able to fight back ... hmm. But in general predators prey on those they perceive to be weak, whether they be compassionate and altruistic or pacifists, these all seem like weakness to psychos.  Therefore, talk softly and carry a big stick... or a gun.

I have no desire to take someone's life.  I do not want to ever have to use my gun.  However, after my experiences, I know a lot of heartache could have been prevented if I'd been armed. After all I'd had to wrestle a shot gun away from him before.  I will not hesitate if I see my ex, to pull the trigger, because I know exactly what he's capable of, and he wouldn't have any problem killing me.

Although carrying is uncomfortable, and people start treating the shy chick with the gun weird, I bet if I had a badge, they wouldn't mind.  Despite police brutality, and the fact that I know of 2 people dying horribly in police custody... that badge makes it all okay.  It shouldn't, because they're just people too, good and bad.

It's so weird, because if it were in my purse, people would probably not care at all.  However, I don't carry a purse, because I use my hands too much.  And if people knew me, they would know why I'm carrying, and realize that they have nothing to fear from my gun... course they would also know I could kick some major ass without one too.  I swerve to avoid squirrels who run in front of my car.  It's not like I'm itching to kill something.  Sure I like shooting a target and honing my skills, but this is a tool. It's the same reason I carry a multitool... in case I need it... and well, if stalker guy shows up to harass me and my friend... that will probably make me very glad that I have it.  It should make stalkers and predators uncomfortable.  Then it's doing its job without ever being fired.

A New Holster

Yesterday I got my holster in the mail.  Previously I had been carrying my Ruger in a fanny pack of doom.  Unfortunately the fanny pack was not keen on the weight and the seams began to give way under the stress.  Just in time, my holster finally arrived.

I wanted something more concealable, which is why I went with the slim line of the Ruger LC9.  I've since decided that I'm not a big fan of the long pull on the trigger. It tends to pull my aim down and to the left.  However we are getting a modification of that and I'm still hitting center mass.

Going for concealable, I opted for the Crossbreed holster as recommended by a friend with far more experience than I.  The Crossbreed fits inside my pants at the belt level, which makes it easy to cover with a shirt or jacket.

As I was putting it on this morning for the first time, and noticed how the handle was at my ribs, I remembered a quote...

"The woman was made of a rib out of the side of Adam; not made out of his head to rule over him, nor out of his feet to be trampled upon by him, but out of his side to be equal with him, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be beloved." - Matthew Henry in Commentary on the Whole Bible, Vol. 1, under Genesis 2:21

When that popped into my mind, I laughed, and amended, "... and if that doesn't work, there's a gun at your rib to protect you from him."  And now that I type it, I realize that was much funnier in my head.  Ah well, they can't all be gems.

For the last 12 years, I rued the day that the ex walked free, but now that it's here and we're prepared, the fear has evaporated.  In the end I did the one thing that he ultimately feared, and that was "hold him accountable".  He was so used to getting away with things, sweet talking people out of action, and in general weaseling his way.  Also he was very good at picking people that he thought he could manipulate with religion and guilt, and he's lost his foothold in my circle.  So I anticipate that he will look for someone younger, more gullible, more religious, and less aware.  

It makes me shiver for the next poor victim, and I say this because leopards don't change their spots.  He is what he is, but I think he'll go for an easier target.  After all, I'm no longer his type.  He'll probably drum up a story about how awful horrible I was and that I deserved every bit, if I get brought up. He liked to project his actions on me to soak in the victim role.  So I'm sure he'll do that with some well meaning innocent, whose heart aches for the poor abused Liam or Bill, whatever he goes by now.  He may mock the weight I gained or demean me in other ways that are less risky, but probably not risk more accountability. Because at the core of it, predators are cowards and prey on those they think are weak.  Although I can be shy and reserved, I'm not weak.  It does attract those types and so I have tried to force myself to be more outgoing, but I'm an introvert.  

Really I'm just determined to be me, because there's nothing wrong with "who I am".  Behaviors are mutable and adjustable, but who I am is good, and nobody has the right to change it. I am determined to be outspoken, to live my life the way I see fit, and to be myself to spite the people like him who tried to change me and force me into some 50s misogynistic mold of wife.  I may not be perfect, but then nobody is.  However I've worked hard to see things as they really are, to tell it like it really is, and those qualities have protected me from attempts to gaslight me and helped me see through lies. It makes me at times uncomfortable company, especially to those who like lies and sugar coating, but it's not like I don't use some manner of tact. 

At the end of the day as the Russian proverb says, I'd rather be slapped with a truth than kissed with a lie.  I appreciate it when people are open and real with me too, and have little tolerance for those who are not.  It took a measure of growing up to realize that I did not have to live by the opinions of others, and to trust myself.  Oddly enough, by being this way, people value that quality, and at times cannot go back to living in the lies of others.  Once you've had a healthy relationship, it's hard to accept anything else. I may not have a huge quantity of friends, but I'd like to think that the quality is pretty high.  It's not like I'm 100% healthy myself, I'm still a work in progress, and will be till the day I die.  However I'm doing it for myself out of a desire to be better, and not to please others.  Those who have tried to abuse and change me always called me stubborn, but my strength of will is not "stubborn". It is the reason I'm still here, and the reason that what failed to kill me, made me stronger.  It's the reason I can do the things I can do by applying it to learning and growth.  The only reason it was put in a negative light, was because it was the barrier of self respect that prevented me from being abused and they wanted it out of the way.  But the castle gates only close when under attack, and I've had enough experience to know a raiding party when I see one.

Still Buggering On

The world hasn't ended, so that's good.  Life has just been going on at it's normal pace.  Once or twice I've seen a few cars parked on our street that gave me a second glance, but more often I've seen tons more police cars in our area.

No more information has surfaced in regards to the monster, and the only sign of him has been an increase in nightmares about him.  Although in the daylight, life has been relatively normal, my subconscious is still waging a mental war.  I am not entirely sure how healthy it is to dream of stabbing the ex with a halberd, but it was satisfying, as was the one where I pulled a Hulk and flung him about like a doll, ultimately crushing him with a VW bug.  My subconscious apparently likes his presence about as much as my waking self, unfortunately it's not as easy to combat when awake.

At the end of the day I've got an enemy, and he's not alone.  There've been a couple people cut from the same cloth.  Really, having enemies is okay, because well, as Winston Churchill once said more eloquently, it just means I've stood up for something in my life.

This whole experience has made me far more likely to stand up for gun rights, and the more I read, the more firmly I am for them.  More and more events in the news only seem to highlight their value in the hands of good citizens.  It evens the playing field.

Even with my background in martial arts, I was taken by surprise and overpowered.  He ripped the phone from the walls, and calling for help became impossible.  Sneaky bastards don't play fair, and they are cowards looking for weakness and easy prey. Being armed makes you not easy prey and thusly less of a target.

When stricter gun laws were being passed, Kennesaw, Ga did the opposite and made it mandatory that every house own a gun.  The crime rate plummeted in response.  Interpol is apparently waking up after a recent tragedy to the realization that armed citizens can protect themselves. http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/exclusive-westgate-interpol-chief-ponders-armed-citizenry/story?id=20637341&singlePage=true

I can only hope that the world is waking up.  Criminals don't respect gun laws.  It would just be nice if the government would stop treating its citizens like criminals or children.  When a man defending his home is accused of murder, I can't help but be angry.   http://misguidedchildren.com/justice/2013/11/maryland-man-shoots-home-intruder-charged-with-murder/6028

Life should never be taken lightly, but if I have to choose between protecting my family or letting them come to harm, you can be sure I will protect my home.

Verses VS Platitudes for Ineffective Responses

To those who don't know what happened, I blogged about it http://linzarcher.blogspot.com/.../10/bad-anniversaries.html This is a heavily religious post and I normally prefer to avoid those these days, but one too many Bible verses thrown at me, and I just couldn't take it anymore.

This started with a post on my Facebook earlier this week, and ironically I got responses that were similar to what I was just complaining about. After asserting that this approach was ineffective, I got more of it, because forcing the issue makes it right (sarcasm). Books 30 years old obviously hold all the answers because they couldn't have made any important discoveries in mental science in the past 30 years! (I'm dripping the sarcasm now) But I'm in for a penny, so I thought I'd blog and be in for a pound. Keep in mind that I'm upset at the practice of platitudes and verses used as some mental bandaid on wounds that need stitches, more than the religion behind it.

I've heard every platitude and Bible verse in conjunction with what happened, but God gives people free will, even the evil people. If you wish to respond, please be a human with independent thought, don't throw other people's words at me. It only makes you feel better about yourself. It doesn't actually help. It doesn't express empathy. It doesn't fix things.

It does lead to Just World Fallacy. It is a cop out to not think or connect with another human. It expresses judgement, detachment, and a sense of superiority. I've got nothing wrong with the word of God and if I want it, I'll read the Bible and go to the source, or pray and talk to the divine myself. I don't need someone else to dictate it to me.

The monster was very fond of using Bible verses to control people. You don't have to love someone to do that, you just have to want to control them. He was a registered Baptist minister, son of a minister, and leader of a wiccan coven... though I didn't discover that till AFTER we got married. So to the jerks who say I shouldn't have gotten divorced, you're right, I should have stoned him.

The way many (not all) Christians treated me after everything that happened was enough to make me not want to be one anymore, but instead, I just became my own version. I prefer actions to words. They mean much more. And I'm very tired of people telling me what to do and think and feel, especially when they've never been where I've been. Hate to say it, but males have been the worst about this. They want to fix it, when the fix actually requires empathy.  Their attempts to fix without empathy in these matters more often than not break things worse.

Many are still stuck in the mentality that trapped me with the ex in the first place. I wanted to help him and I believed that all people were inherently good. So they are stuck on his salvation, but I have to go with Ayn Rand on this "Pity for the guilty is treason to the innocent."  

Psychopaths are not curable. They have no guilt, which is the main proponent of people making a choice to not be evil. They are a small sect of humanity and their brains literally do not function like a normal person's. I'm sure that functional human beings can, but if you have not had experience dealing with a psychopath, then you don't realize that you can't apply these things, like you can't expect certain things of people born without ears, or legs.

I don't have a problem with Christianity as much as the fact that many churches pump out narcissists [lack of empathy, over devaluation or idealization (inability to see mid-ranges), magical thinking, need for narcissistic supply e.i. other people's perceptions of them as "holy", inability to recognize boundaries, need to "teach" others because they think they are better than others] and codependents [ Are a corrupted form of "do unto others" They do to you what they want done to them. Their acts of kindness are for control. "People who are codependent often take on the role of martyr; they constantly put others' needs before their own and in doing so forget to take care of themselves.] like a factory, and their conditioned responses are often unhealthy ones. 

I believe you can be a Christian and be emotionally healthy. I believe you can have faith and still be logical about it. I believe that respecting other people and their boundaries is part of loving them, and to do otherwise is not a display of love.

My beliefs are valid and personal and not for community moulding. My mind, my body, my heart, and my soul are mine, and therefore my decision who to give them to, is nobody else's business. I refuse to be treated like property of any human or institution, which means that my life is not up for others to tell me how to live it. I am not perfect, but I have learned from my experiences, and a lot of what I have learned is that the church as a whole has accepted unhealthy doctrine, and that those without wisdom or experience are the first to offer someone else's words.

God gave us a brain to use it, to learn, and that God's laws are written on the hearts of humans in the form of conscience, and that those that defy them to do despicable acts are more lacking in empathy than religion, so I cannot abide by teachings that result in lack of empathy, which is the very antithesis of learning to love.

Beliefs in general don't make you a good or bad person, though I find many people think that they do. Actions are what define people. I've seen many a hypocrite (Greek word for actor) present a public face and be a monster in private. From boyfriends to bosses, I've been disappointed repeatedly when their actions and their words were out of sync. I've seen pagans who had worse "holier than thou" airs than the Christians they insisted on telling how to be good Christians (while they did some horrific stuff). Then again I know many non-Christians who've read more of the Bible and about the Bible than the majority of Christians I know. It doesn't matter what symbol/power you attach your identity to, it's who you are, and if who you are cannot offer something helpful from inside you, then you probably should not offer it at all.

At the end of the day, if you have not been through a situation like someone else, then perhaps it's time to be quiet and listen. Before you can hand out information of any kind, you have to understand a situation, and unless you have a degree in psychology or have been there yourself, the best way to do that is to listen.  It's not to assume that the victim did something wrong to end up in the sights of a psychopath.  Ted Bundy avidly preyed on the kinder impulses in people to get his victims.  He wore a cast and would get women to feel sorry for him and carry things back to his car where he would beat them over head with the cast and throw them inside. 

This is a choice made by an evil person, and no amount of platitudes and Bible verses are going to undo the event. If that's how you deal with things, fine, go read your Bible and pray. However if you want to help, try listening without thinking about what you want to say.  Put yourself in their shoes, and imagine the circumstances and emotions involved. Empathy begins when you stop thinking about changing the other person and start seeing them as a person instead of a broken thing to be fixed.

Scary Moments

Evee our lovable pup

Freak out moment, here, when our dog Evee jumped up and started barking at something. Normally when she thinks she hears something, she sort of barks as if in question without much umph behind it, and if she does move, she goes toward the front door.  This was not one of those times.  She dashed up as if someone had rung the doorbell barking adamantly at something and went to the back door at an angry run.  Then she ran round to the front looking through the windows. When I opened the front door she didn't relent her search as easily as with false alarms. Normally the door opens and she glances left and right and is done.  This time she stared intently, sniffing the air.  Something wasn't right, and she seemed sure of it.

After a perimeter check, all seems clear. Keeping an eye open for movement, while Trenton gives Morgan a bath.  Yeah, I may be the most probable victim, but I'm also the best eyes and ears in the house.  In D&D terms, I have one heck of a spot check.  After all, when Trenton gets home, I'm the one that tells Evee half the time and then she gets up and barks.  So I'm sitting here with Evee and keeping an eye out.  For the most part we've been going about our lives, but now I'm on edge and scanning for movement. However I'm not really afraid and somewhat calm. I suppose being not only armed, but having proved proficient with firearms has instilled a long lost sense of security.

It was weird carrying a gun at first, but now it feels no different than carrying a swiss army knife, like I used to in high school.  It doesn't feel as much like a weapon, but a tool in case I need it.  Firing the gun more has made me more comfortable that I not only can use it if I need to, but that it won't go off unless I intend it to.

Still I'm a little concerned about the next date... November 11, would have been the wedding anniversary to the monster.  Wouldn't be surprised if he waited till then to do something.  Hoping the restrictions on him are enough to keep that from happening, and that this was some random false alarm.

This past weekend I went back to my hometown to visit my parents' for my mother's 70th birthday.  Although I feel relatively settled and safe here, it was different being in a house that the monster had snuck into that very room in the middle of the night. Memories flooded me and it just secured something I realized a while back, this will never feel like home again, which is very sad.  Every time I pass... I think it's mile marker 183 on 75 South, I can't help but recall the scary nightmare ride where Liam drove me 90 mph toward the interstate threatening to kill me because I dare say that I wasn't happy with him, and that we might want to consider divorce. I responded with, "if I live through this, I'll still divorce your ass" ... and he changed his tune.

Going back there, doesn't feel like going home. It feels like another life of someone else.  I am not that same person.  So much inside of me died then, but other things were reborn.  I can't say that everything I took away from the experience was bad, after all, I learned a lot. Certainly not all of its effects were good either.  However I did learn who my true friends were, by their reactions to it. Their numbers have dwindled but their quality increased.

One of the scarier aspects of going back to the folks' house was that Liam's parole officer is actually fairly close to there and could put him in probable range.  He has a dopple-ganger in the area as it is that is the Monroe County Commissioner (I think his name is Michael Bielderbeck) and if I were to even run into him, it would be too much.

I thought I just saw a shadow, but no reaction from Evee this time. Hopefully it was just one of the neighborhood cats that strolls through our backyard thanks to us planting catnip. Between the alarm, the dog, the guns, and a husband who wouldn't hesitate to introduce the ex to Castle Laws... I am trying to stay vigilant, but like I said, not as worried as before. And really, I'm not entirely sure why, except that on the whole, I'm tired of being scared.  I'm staying safe, but not out of fear anymore, it's more out of a protective nature.  This is my life, my home, my family, and I will not let him damage anything of mine again.

Don't go for the Groin!

Athena - Goddess of War and Wisdom

Still hanging in there, still trying to not only maintain a quality of life and safety, but looking into martial arts again.  So many things have not been available in the past due to money or more often not being able to pay a babysitter and the cost of classes at the same time. Morgan is reaching an age now though that should allow us a little more freedom in that area, and we always said, she wasn't allowed to date till she got a black belt.

Presently we are looking into Krav Maga and hoping at some point to get back into fencing as well.  The most useful things I learned were not from my red belt in Tae Kwon Do but my lessons in Wing Chun and grappling from Francis Fong in Gwinnett. I never tested, but we all learned and worked on the same useful techniques, regardless of belts.  It was far more like actual fighting, when I did end up in a couple through out my life.

This brings to mind the single bit of advice that I was told since I was a child that was the most useless and dangerous bit of misinformation that anyone could have ever told me.

"Go for the crotch"

I would like to point out that I kicked Liam in the crotch twice while he was tying me up and it was downright useless.  This was a man that regularly exercised is neck muscles to prevent from being choked.  All a foot to the groin did, was make him angrier and more determined to hurt me.

There was another instance as a 12 year old girl where going for the crotch was equally disastrous.  First of all, kneeing someone in the groin while waist deep in water, is not going to work.  And when I tried to scratch in that general area as I had been taught, it only invited some serious trouble ... trouble that ended in me being literally held under water and drowned ... as in breathed in water, out of body experience ... drowned.

So from experience I can say, that is the most rubbish piece of advice that people who know nothing are all to happy to tell girls, which makes them foolishly feel like they can CTRL/ALT/DEL out of any male attack.

Also, you are often told to scream, and now they want you to blow a bloody rape whistle.  What you have to understand is that people are so absolutely terrified of being sullied by rape that if you scream rape, you are probably not going to get any help.  Self Defense articles recommend yelling "Fire" instead, because people are far more likely to come to your aid or call the authorities.

When I was at Comic Con one year, I was in the bathroom listening to 2 cleaning ladies talk.  It was early in the day, so only vendors were in the hall and it was just me in the stall.  The one lady was talking of how some girl was screaming for help and looking to her to help her, and her response was to be offended "like I was going to help her and risk getting hurt".  The fact is that you can't depend on others to come to your aid.  In a recent interview by Joss Whedon, he regaled a story of his youth, being mugged and beaten in the middle of the streets in New York, while people walked by and no one lifted a finger to help.  It is literally amazing the amount of things that humans will turn a blind eye to for the sake of "not getting involved".

So it's best to assume that unless you can get to a phone to call 911, which will be tricky, that you're going to have to try some other way to disentangle from your attacker.

GO FOR THE EYES

One of the problems with many women is not being able to hurt someone else.  Well, in this case, you're going to have to get over it, or else you're the one going to get hurt.  Instead of the crotch, go for the eyes.  If they can't see you, they can't get to you. It hurts, it's not life threatening, and it should give you a window to escape while inhibiting any further pursuit.

GO FOR THE THROAT

In my case I couldn't reach the eyes, and I was fighting with his hands.  He was bigger and stronger than me, and had caught me off guard.  I tried to reach his throat and squeeze, but that only invited him to choke me.  Don't go for a choke.  Go for a sharp hard jab to the wind pipe.  This will constrict breathing and should distract them enough to create a window to escape.

Why am I suggesting escape?  Because staying to try and fight it out is not your best option.  It's an invitation for more damage.  The best thing is to get away and call 911.

DON'T BE A VICTIM

Fight back!  You won't regret it.  You will regret the things you didn't do.  Also, fight with your mind.  Tell them that what they are doing is wrong.  Tell them it's rape.  Don't leave any room for them to misinterpret. Predators often go after easy prey. I told one girl, that no matter how big and strong they are, you are always bigger than their little finger.  She took it to heart and when she was raped later, she almost took the guy's finger off.  She did not stop the attack, but the sheer act of fighting back empowered her.

There are many other ways to be prepared, and I'm still learning them too, by getting into Krav Maga.  I hope that you are never in a situation to need this advice, but if you are my heart goes out to you.  It's an epidemic.  The number of female friends I have who have been abused out number the ones who haven't significantly.  It only takes one man to hurt many women, and they usually do.  They usually hop from one to the next. So prepare your little girls, because there are plenty of hungry wolves out there, and more than likely, they've heard the same bad advice I did.

Pictures

This is going to be a difficult blog to write, because I've finally built up the courage to post a picture of the bastard.  It's really hard to even look at him and not just want to throw up.  However I took the advice of an officer friend of mine who suggested I ask for an additional patrol in my area, and they asked for a picture to help identify him.  So if I'm going to suck it up for that, I might as well suck it up for here too.  

William Thomas DeLoach, Jr. 

Registered Sex Offender

Birthday: June 14, 1967

Location: Elabell, GA

It's odd, because I glimpsed a photo of him when sending it to school to show Morgan's teachers, and he looks so different from when I knew him.  It's been 12 years after all and I certainly look different.  I was 23 when he and I started dating and he was 32, 9 years my senior.  When we married, I became his 4th wife.  None of the previous 2 lasted more than 8 months.  I held in there for a mighty 11 months, just because of sheer ability to tolerate BS.

At the time he was that tall, dark, handsome guy that worked the makeup counter at Belks in the Macon Mall, and when he chose me to date, other women were furiously jealous.  I say chose, but stalked is more like it. My friend at the time, Jerry, a girl, had recently broken up with my brother, and I was trying to help her get over it, so we went to Belks for a makeover to cheer her up.  This was new territory for me, not something I had ever done.  She specifically wanted to go to Belks for it because of the hot guy working the counter.  Well, I caught his eye, and unbeknownst to me, he put the alert out that if I walked back into Belks that they were to grab me and call him because he was smitten.  That's kind of what happened.  I walked in and a girl at the makeup counter told me all about how impressed this guy was with me, and dialed him up on the phone and handed it to me.  I was so embarrassed, and also engaged at the time which I told him.  Still I naively thought we could be friends, but he had other plans.

Looking back it's extremely creepy, that he started stalking me from the very beginning.  At the time everyone thought is was romantic and Kismet.  The jealous glares of other women who were infatuated with him, and I was the lucky girl who ended up with him. I certainly don't feel so lucky anymore... or at least not good luck.

This is the guy who charmed women constantly, was compared to actors from Stephen Seagal to Christian Bale, but apparently 12 years of prison has not been kind to him.  Maybe his outsides just started reflecting more of his inside, who knows.  After we were married, he told me he was the leader of a wiccan coven (before we were married he told me he was Catholic) and at times I wonder if it might have all been some kind of glamour.  I certainly felt like I was under a spell, but I think that was mostly being caught in his web of lies, and he was very unhappy that over time, I figured him out and could see through him.

William Thomas DeLoach, Jr. 

Registered Sex Offender

Birthday: June 14, 1967

Location: Elabell, GA

People think or say "How could you stay with someone like that?" and what they are really thinking is that the victim should have known.  No abuser comes up to you and says, "Hi I'd like to suck the life out of you".  In fact they are generally incredibly good at "getting the girl", because it's a role they inhabit, and not who they really are.  Once they feel they have you, in this case after marriage, the mask comes off, and you see who you really have.  Everything went so fast in the relationship, and I think that was part of why.  He was in a hurry to get me so he could drop the act.  

Three months after dating, he proposed to me and when he did, I hesitated.  Some red flags had started going up already, something I felt in my gut, as opposed to knowing in my head as I do now.  It seemed to fast, and I was inclined to say no.  Liam saw it on my face and it filled with rage.  At that moment I was bullied into saying yes.  NOs were not really options.  Every no I told him was overlooked or bulldozed over.  He didn't let up until I called people to tell them I was engaged.  All the while a stone in my stomach got heavier.  Meanwhile, he was the first man I'd ever had sex with, so I was being bulldozed into marriage on the religious front as well.  Mind you... I said no the first time as well, but he ended up making me feel so sorry for him, and that's how I lost my virginity.

This brings to mind another rant.  If you care about your daughters, truly care about them, you won't push them into life altering situations based on a religious status.  Jesus did not bully people into religion, he loved them, and he spent a heck of a lot more time with sinners than the stiff necked religious people. The laws were not to hurt people but to protect them from harmful situations. If you care about your daughters, as you should, you will want for them someone who will truly love and care for them, and you won't care so much about them having sex as much as you care about them as a person. Otherwise they are just property, and will feel like such. I felt so religiously weighed down that while I was pretty sure things were wrong, but there was no way I could talk to my parents about it, because they had certain hard rules, and I felt as railroaded by my family as I was by my fiancée.  

Although my brother was not a virgin groom, I was a girl and held to a double standard.  There was no such thing as divorce in our family either and when I wanted to leave, my parents kept pushing us back together, instead of trusting my judgement.  They were taken in as I was by Liam's martyrdom, and he could play the religious strings like the devil with a golden violin.  At the end of the day, they were manipulated too, but I was at ground zero screaming and no one could hear.  It wasn't until after the kidnapping, that others truly started taking the threat to me seriously.  And after surviving, I was subjected to a slew of should-haves from my brother.  I'd survived and done everything that I could in my power, a situation that a strong male couldn't fathom being put into, and condemned for not doing more... because obviously I didn't have enough on my plate.  Ever since, though I love my family, I've never felt like they would ever be on my side. By trying to force me into a religious mould, all they did was estrange me. I've become far more fond of faith and far less trusting of religion... after all Liam was a registered Baptist minister and would brag about how he could make an entire congregation cry.

William Thomas DeLoach, Jr. 

Registered Sex Offender

Birthday: June 14, 1967

Location: Elabell, GA

The thing is, that the horrors of the ex were not just one night.  That was the worst of it, sure, but it was a year and a half of ever increasing misery, isolation from others, twisting of reality, and constant devaluation.  Emotional abusers tear you up from the inside, leaving no evidence of their destruction.  Most people don't believe it, and they only see you reacting, and assume that you are the weak one, because you aren't putting on an act like the abuser.  They push you to your limits doing horrible things and when you finally blow up, you're the bad guy. In my case, he was projecting the crap he did to me, onto me in the telling, so I was not only being victimized by him but also villainized at the same time, and he was using it to feed off of and justify doing worse to me.

Now I've learned far more about emotional abuse and abusers.  I've taken to learning about why people are that way, and why they do the things they do.  I always had to understand why.  If knowledge is power, I'm more powerful now because of it, and if what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I've had enough near death scenarios to be pretty damn strong. Let's see how strong I really am now...

So here's the hard part.  I'm going to share photos of the asshat.  Okay, it's done, and I now feel ill... and usually I read back over the blog and edit some, but I just can't bring myself to do it today.  Not the looker that he once was.  Wonder if he'll still be making girls jealous.

Week 2

Journey's End ©2000 Lindsay Archer

This morning I awoke to shining pavement and signs of a good rain in the night. It was a very sleepless one.  Around 3am I keep waking up and wanting to go for a run, just to get out this nervous energy, so I settled for the exercise bike instead.

The worst part of this is that his release comes at this time of year, a time full of memory stimulators, changing leaves, holiday decor, and a change in the weather.  All which take this new worry, a feeling I haven't truly experienced since his incarceration, and it's a recipe for unbidden memories.

I still can't drink those tiny cans of coke.  When I was tied up between rapes, I remember him pacing, drinking one, and plotting things to do to me, new ways to violate my body and my privacy.

The rain brings a small bit of comfort, because if anything, the monster was keen on covering his tracks in a form of evil OCD. Wet ground means footprints, and I feel somewhat comforted that he wouldn't risk leaving a trail.

The rain does however bring to mind a rainy night that I lived, seeming right out of a novel.  I had recently showered and was in my blue nightgown, wrapped in my komono robe.  Both items I long since divested myself and the memories attached to them.

Once again, Liam had been laying into the emotional abuse, and I'd had enough, so I went to find my keys and leave in my car, but they weren't where I had left them.  Knowing him, I accused him of hiding my keys, to which he reacted as he always did when he got caught.  He laughed and then tried to make me feel bad for thinking that, but his tactics had long since worn thin on me, and I had figured him out.  One of the things I had figured out was that he had a tell when lying, not during the actual lie, because he did that flawlessly, but seemingly while waiting to see if it had worked, he would raise one eyebrow in a spock-like fashion.  As his brow raised, I knew he was lying.  There was a pile of laundry nearby, so I looked threw it and found the keys he had hidden there.

All the way to the laundry basket, he followed me with more lies until I found the keys and called him out on it.  Instantly he shifted tactics, in trying to keep me in the house. All of them were failing, shot down by my logical retorts.  When I turned to leave, I saw him starting to come at me.

Emotional abuse, is harder to combat than physical.  In this, I'd been trained.  In this I knew how to react.  The world slowed down as he swung at me.  I ducked to the outside of his swing, caught his arm with my right hand, and pulled him forward, using his momentum to pull him off balance.  Then I put him a choke hold.

Even then I couldn't hurt him.  I was just trying to lock him down where he couldn't hurt me.  I held on, trying to squeeze the air out of him so he would pass out, as he backed me into a wall at full force.  White hot pain shot threw me as the air went out of me and my head slammed into the wall.  He did it again, but I held tight.  In frustration, the threw himself onto the floor, on top of me.

In this conflict, I had won, as he switched tactics again to crocodile tears and started crying.  I held him, knowing the next move, knowing how to break his neck, but I couldn't hurt him, even after all he had done.  That basic human respect and value for life that he never had was still in me, and instead of breaking his neck or knocking him out, I got free and ran.

We lived in the boonies at the time, and he was angry we had neighbors at all.  I should have ran next door to the Sheriff's daughter, but I just ran and ran until I could run no more.  The rain was pouring down, drenching me with each chilly fall drop.  It was dark out and I was next to a field of cows when that damned fuchsia Sunfire pulled up along side me.  Liam had the window rolled down and told me to get in, but I refused.  He mocked me with that chilly laugh at my willingness to just keep walking.  The rain fell harder and harder.  Eventually I got into the car, not seeing many options ahead of me. One of the many things I wish I could go back and change that night.

When we got back to the house, of course he was feigning contriteness again and finding excuses and reasons not to be held accountable, but I kicked him out that night and told him he was crazy and that normal people don't do those things.  He drove off, and that night he admitted himself to the Coliseum Mental hospital in Macon, Ga where he deftly manipulated the well-meaning people trying to help him. I had once been one of those well-meaning people.  It's that quality that attracts people like him.  A sense of virtue brings vultures, and they circle thinking of an easy meal.

I've started blogging about these experiences when they start flooding my mind, and it's seemed to help. I share them, because I know I'm not alone.  I refuse to remain silent, because silence is the weapon of the abuser.  Secrets are their currency.  They do not deserve my consideration, and will not have my silence. Those who think that doing so is bad... I can't help but think they protest too much, and that perhaps they might be guilty of the same.  I'm an open book, and I won't change that to make other people feel comfortable.  Perhaps they are the very people who need to be made a little uncomfortable and reconsider their own actions.  The only people who are upset by the truth, are those who are living a lie (I don't recall who coined that quote, but will add when I see it again).

Even though I doubt that he'll show today, I remain armed and try to be ready.  Yesterday while putting Morgan down for a nap, Evee dog woke us with her barking, which about gave me a heart attack since I'd thought I'd seen someone near the front door earlier.  That was the extent of the excitement, so nothing more happened.

It's been a really hard week, and I find that it's much like with funerals.  People are always there right when it happens.  You get tons of people wanting to help, and then by the 3rd day, when the reality is starting to set in and you start to really fall apart, the numbers dwindle significantly.  It's those who remain supportive that are the true friends, and it becomes obvious who really cares and who doesn't. It's a rather short list.

All in all though, I think I'm feeling better about things. I hope it's not some false sense of security. In a way I've been through a whole new trauma, or at least a revisitation of the old.  Fears I haven't had in over a decade found new life.  Fears with a basis in harsh reality and experiences that changed me forever.

I can't go back to who I was before, and that's okay. I've learned so much about what to look for, how they work, and I got a degree from the University of Hard Knocks. It's made me more in tune to things that I only knew instinctually before, and given name to those things.  Ultimately it's made psychos predictable when I've met others in similar circumstances.  It's made for healthier friendships and deeper understanding.

Here's a little psychopath 101. Everybody loves a psychopath at first, but most quickly grow tired of their crap.  They are often marked by hopping from one short relationship to the next.  The ones they have are shallow and short lived.  Psychopaths are impulsive but tremendously calculating and manipulative.  They rarely have long standing friends, and the ones they do have are generally separated by distance and not close enough to see their true face.  They cycle through people, exploiting them, and are hard to distinguish at times from narcissists.  Psychopaths are born.  Sociopaths are made.  There is no cure for psychopathy.

It's hard won knowledge, and it's something that many people don't want to believe, but it's there. It's not just something on TV. Hopefully I'll put this information to good use, and maybe, just maybe someone else will learn from my experience and escape similar circumstances.

Day 5

Everybody in the house is sick, and I just can't keep up the hyper-vigilance, so relying on security system and dog.  Honestly I've kinda checked out and find myself just wanting to be alone, and not able to handle a lot of sounds... not a great thing when you have a kid.  Morgan is mad at me for being off, which makes things so much more complicated. I'm doing my best, but it's just not good enough.  Still just wanting to sleep but I can't sleep very well.  Constantly sick to my stomach, but I'm not sure if that's nerves or whatever crud has gotten the house.  Not feeling very verbose at the moment, and all of it just seems to be rehashing of nerves and worry. I guess just another symptom of checking out.  Somehow have to pull it together and be productive this week.

Day 4

The Guardian @2001 Lindsay Archer

Exhausted, and stress has taken its toll on my already crappy immune system... the same immune system that attacked my thyroid.  This morning I got up with Morgan and let Trenton sleep in... as if things weren't hard enough, he's on call this weekend and had extra work thrown at him when we could really use the downtime. He slept for 12 hours, and I got up and am feeling weak and shaky all over. I was supposed to go shoot bows with a friend today, but I don't think I could pull one if I wanted to, even if it's only 35 lbs.

I was nervous when we went out for a walk yesterday, but my dog and my gun, they comfort me.  Part of me is very angry to be put in this position, angry that they let him out, angry that it's now up to me to have to be on guard all the time.  Add that to the general anger that people like him exist, and get away with things, the anger that there are SO MANY women out there who have had similar experiences, which means men like this are everywhere and get away with it.  Also add the anger at people's stupid responses from throwing Bible verses, saying nothing could happen, claiming that you're lying cause things like that only happen on TV, to making it somehow about them, claiming they had some supernatural pre-knowledge, or that I must have done something to deserve it.  All of this makes social interactions a potential powder keg, and all of it is well meaning from people who genuinely don't understand that the only person they are making feel better is themselves.  Obviously not everybody has such responses and I say again I have some awesome friends who are very supportive and counter balance the BS.

We now know who Liam's parole officer is, so we have that contact information, and that is good. That must have been who called yesterday from Jackson, Ga.  I missed the call, but when I saw where it was from, I couldn't even listen to the voice mail and had to have Trenton listen to it.  Mostly they just left us a call back number for the parole officer, and hopefully they'll understand if I have Trenton call. Theoretically I could in fact do it myself, but when I'm freaking out, my memory, and ability to speak become impaired. So I would make it through the phone call and either instantly block it out or not be able to ask pertinent questions... yay for the crazy side effects I'm still dealing with thanks to my bad experiences.

Feeling very unsocial in general.  I'm an introvert so people in general are very draining to me, but now I'm already drained and I just can't muster the energy for social interaction.  Even responding to texts seems exhausting, making my responses rather short and hopefully not curt.  Really I don't have much to say in response.  Typing this blog or talking to close friends, I'm still quite verbose, but not to those I'm not 100% comfortable with conversing.

One thing I will say about this Halloween... it will be the scariest freaking one I've ever had!

Day 3

Earth Bound ©Lindsay Archer

The ex is now registered as a sex offender, and we have an address for him, where he will be living with his mother.  This indicates that he must have checked in with his probation officer. Honestly I was half expecting him to run off into the Appalachians and disappear since he was big into the survivalist thing, but I guess it's a good sign. Just blows my mind when he claimed his mother sexually abused him, but his sisters said that he was spoiled rotten by her.  But then he lied pathologically and his mommy bought him a shiny new lawyer for the court process.

We discovered that cops go around Atlanta on Halloween making sure that sex offenders are not handing out candy to kids.  Not sure if they'll be doing that in the little town of Ellabell, but it was a comforting thing to hear.

Yesterday I got a FB friend request from a friend of mine's stalker and it just couldn't have come at a worst time.  I'm so full up on drama that I feel like I could throw up most of the time.  I'm already looking in my rearview mirror for that damned fuchsia Pontiac Sunfire that I was tied up in the back of, since he used to follow me.

Yesterday was my appointment with my counselor.  Talking doesn't seem to be doing the trick anymore.  For the most part I'm good at knowing why I feel the way I feel, and I've had to recount the events so many times that other people get more upset than I do. It happened, and it's horrible, but I'm on the other side of it.  However, now, with this new addition, I feel like I'm screaming inside and no one can hear.  I'm wearing a mask to try and stay together for my family, but it's so hard, especially when people put demands on me, and Morgan is very demanding.  Not her fault.  To her there's not much difference from October 22 to October 23. She doesn't understand why mommy is staring out the window, or on edge, or having optical migraines. Trying to just stay prepared and be ready is exhausting, and full blown depression is seeping in, making me want to do nothing but sleep.  The weight now falls on me to be ready, because he basically goes from complete incarceration to mostly free except having to check in with a probation officer.  This seems like a drastic shift to me.

The only thing that would truly make me feel safe would be a gps tracker that would send my phone an alert when he was within 100 meters of me.  Hell they do it with tornados!  The tech is there, and it would truly help.  Just stick an anklet on violent criminals maybe for a year to ensure a transition back to integrating into society.  Probation officers could see on a terminal if the criminal went near schools or if they were in the area when a crime happened.  It just makes sense... and it makes so much sense that it won't happen... not when we have victimless crimes to gripe about... instead of real threats to society.

Amidst all of this I'm getting lots of unwanted advice from people who have no experience with this. On top of that I'm drowning in platitudes and scripture verses on one hand, and then being told if I think about him, he'll come after me on the other.  This all seems to negate free will, his free will to me, and also tends toward the victim blame end of the spectrum.  What I need are real things, real support, real answers, and real friends who don't mind listening even if I'm "negative" because I'm lacking positive thoughts. Fortunately I do have a network of loving supportive friends who are checking on me and are "there" for me.  If I didn't, I would be falling apart for more.

The thing is, the first time, I was all alone. I lived next to the Sheriff's daughter and she didn't call it in.  There was no time to call, it was sudden, unexpected, and he had waited till I was vulnerable and alone.  At the end of the day, it's up to me.  Half the people I knew then, didn't believe that I was in danger, as many don't believe now.  So this is me waiting to see if he's moved on to find wife number 5 to abuse or if he's going to come after me and finish what he started, because I held him accountable.  Regardless, I'll be looking in the rear view mirror hoping that objects appear closer than they really are...

KBO - Keep Buggering On

If you think that the danger is over because the first day of his release has passed, then you're dead wrong. The ex was released from prison yesterday and has 8 days to check in with his parole officer, if he's going to do it at all.

More so, this is a man who plots, plans, and bides his time.  He let the air out of my tires, unconnected things on my engine, and followed me everywhere, biding time for the next attack.  He snuck into my house and waited on me behind a door that was cracked open, so he could peer through the crack and jump me when I was busy and thought that I was alone.  I still hate half open doors.

The point is that the danger is not decreasing, but steadily increasing.  This is a man who lulls people into false senses of security. Certainly he is impulsive like any psychopath, but he's also devious, and that's something that takes time.  He's a patient wolf in a world full of sheep, who don't want to believe that wolves like him exist.

I've been feeling freaking narcoleptic. The stress is taking a toll on my body.  Every aspect of me is on high alert and that does not jive with being a mom.  I worry about my parents who still live in the same house, a house that he snuck into and into my room one night, without them ever knowing.

Still getting used to packing a loaded weapon with me most of the time.  It's very odd.  Perhaps when  my new holster shows up, it won't be so weird.  One of the good things about carrying though, is that I don't have to worry about Morgan getting ahold of a gun without us knowing.  Any weapon not carried is in a gun safe.  And really, Morgan does not play alone well, so we don't have to worry about her running off and doing things in general.  She's such a good kid.

The world doesn't stop for broken hearts, and it expects you to keep going too.  I'm very disappointed in the system in general right now.  I'm glad there's something, but when other people get up in arms about certain topics, I'm just left feeling cold and grumbling over the real dangers to society that are here and now.  This was supposed to be a "life" sentence, and that is a very deceptive nomenclature that makes people relax when they shouldn't.

This person is a psychopath.  Psychopaths are 80% more likely to repeat offend than any other criminals.  Add to that he's a violent sex offender, which are also far more likely to repeat offend.  It's a recipe for misery for somebody.  Even if it's not me and my family.  Even if he doesn't come seeking revenge, for holding him accountable, something he hated ... he is still a very real threat to society.

October 23

As of 1pm today, an automated phone call informed me that my exhusband had been released from prison.  Today was the first day I carried my gun with me all day. It was fine when I was working on the cover piece for the Redemption Trilogy this morning, and I was mostly okay. However after picking up Morgan, it became far more difficult to be vigilant with a 4 year old demanding attention.

Lots of people enjoy giving advice with absolutely no experience in this situation.  It's all well meaning, but not very comforting.  The only things comforting are my gun, my dog, and my alarm system.  The world feels like it's restricting around me, and I can't breathe. Optical migraines and on the verge of panic attacks today.  All of it held within for the benefit of my family.

I really just want to sleep.  It still doesn't seem real, and I'm trying to go about my normal life.