Facing my own demons

adoption, adoption loss, life,

looking into my past pt 6: Hiding from Satan

Starting from where I last left off. I had just had my second child. Another perfectly beautiful baby girl. We, J, little R, L and I were living with my dad and step mother. And once again, I thought I had the perfect life. J was not abusing me in any way. Even though we were living in Dad's Mobile home, which was behind his house in the back yard. Completely separated from the house, it offered us some privacy. Because we had this privacy and J was not taking advantage of it by hitting me, I thought finally he had decided to keep his promises. It never occurred to me that J knew we were still close enough that we didn't really have "that much" privacy and he also knew that if my Dad ever caught him hitting me, he'd be in for major trouble. I went around singing my "tra la la" song of the "perfect life" I was surely the happiest mother in the world. My children were the best babies in the world. R was from the beginning, so smart and so easy to teach new things to. She practically taught herself. "tra la la"

Eventually we moved away from my parents. We first moved into a house that belonged to J's boss. He was security there and the house was next door to the plant. So we lived there, rent free, as a bonus of his work. And so he would be readily available any time. Although he was never called into work on his time off, so I think his boss only let us live in the house because I was my Dad's daughter. Dad was very well liked by the owner of the metal company that he and now J worked for. But nepotism only goes so far. And so one day J came home from work early and said he'd been fired. I never did know why he got fired from that job. I didn't ask, because the fighting had already started again and I was afraid. Again.

So, of course, we had to move. This time we moved to another city. Putting 20 miles or so between us and my Dad. That doesn't seem like much, but I still did not drive, so yes it was far, really far for me. I guess L was close to or about a year old when J decided that I would have to go back to work. Considering my skills, none and my education, none, I couldn't get a decent paying job. And nether could J. So we both worked at the same fast food place, on different shifts so that we never needed to hire a babysitter. I hated leaving my sweet babies to go to work each day; but I thought at least I didn't have to leave them with strangers. How wrong can one person be in a lifetime?!

This life went on for the next year. I had my head stuck somewhere in the sand of at least my children have both parents and are not hurt like I am being hurt syndrome. Until one day, my own little four year old daughter, little R jerked my head out of that sand. The conversation she and I had as I remember it:

Little R: "Mommie, I don't like daddy to tickle me."

Me: Daddy tickles you? Why don't you like it? Where does he tickle you?

Little R: "Down there, it hurts."

I went ballistic! I couldn't believe what my daughter was standing there telling me! How could I have been so blind?! I started crying, Little R tried to comfort me. This tiny little four year old was hurting so bad, was trying to comfort her mother. No NO! This is wrong. And I told her that. I told her she didn't have to take care of me, I was going to take care of her and Daddy would never ever hurt her again. I grabbed her up and took her to her's and L's bedroom. Then I put her down and went back to the livingroom. Then I started randomly picking up stuff and shoving it under my arms to leave with. It took me a while to calm down enough to realize I had to have a plan. I didn't have a plan. I didn't know how to make a plan. I picked up the phone over and over again but couldn't figure out who to call.

I was so crazed that I couldn't figure out anything. For some reason the only person's phone number I could remember was a friend from work. I had told him a little about J and how he treated me, because I had to tell someone and he was the only one I thought was far enough from the situation to be objective. He had told me many times that if I ever needed his help to call. So I did. I told him I had to leave. I had to take my girls and hide. I couldn't go anywhere that J might look and I had to do it NOW! He was there in ten minutes. I took a few clothes for the girls and maybe two changes of clothes for myself. That was all I took. I was too afraid that J might come home early and catch me.

After I got to T's mother's house, where T was living at the time. I called the police and reported everything. After many hard examinations and interrogations of my little four year old daughter and myself. And a week of we are still formulating a report mam. There was finally a warrant took out on J. But they couldn't find him. He had stopped going to work the next day after my disappearance and it was found that he had moved, leaving most of our belongings at the house that we had been renting.

I did manage to calm down enough to call my dad some time during the first week. But I told him it was too dangerous for me to go there because I was sure J would look there. J had promised me many times that if I ever tried to leave him, he would kill me in such a way that no one would ever be able to prove it was him. He often told me ways he could do just that, proving to me he had given this much thought. I believed him. I was terrified. When the police couldn't find him, my fear increased. For a while, I sent the girls to live with my Dad. I hoped that soon J would be found and arrested and I could bring them back home.

I got a new job at another restaurant. And T and I rented a garage apartment right next door to my new job. I was so afraid of being alone. It was, at the time, very innocent. T was there to protect me. He even walked with me, the 10-15 steps to work and back each day. But he was also, there, for me. He listened to me when I had to talk, he held me when I cried for hours. He was there, when no one else had been. He listened to me. He didn't try to tell me what I should do, or should have done, or did wrong. He just listen and right then, that is what I needed.

Weeks turned into a month and the police had still not found J. I called them frequently to see if they had and I got the feeling that they weren't even really looking. There are so many people out there, mam… A needle in a hay stack….. If he gets stopped for a traffic violation, then we'll have him…..could be anywhere…. Bla Bla.

Meanwhile, I was trying to get someone to help me get counseling for Little R. She was only four years old after all. And I surely didn't know how to help her through this pain or to even help her understand why she was in pain. But I worked at a minimum wage job. I couldn't afford to go to a private child psychologist. I had to have help. What I got from the welfare department and Social Services or what ever they were, was the Big Run Around.

OH, you need to go to this office. You need to fill out these papers… Oh, no you are in the wrong place, you need to go…..You'll have to go through this agency… There's a waiting list…. Bla bla bla…. I was at my wits end trying to find just one person who could even tell me where to go for help.

As time went by, I started to think that maybe J had left town completely. I told the police they should check his mother's home, maybe he went there. They said they checked and he wasn't there. I don't know what "we've checked" meant. Did they send someone out to the house, which was in another state. Or did they call his mother on the phone and ask, "is your son, J there?" J's mother responding, "why no, of course not… Oh sure I will turn him  in to the police if he comes here…. Sure….."

Ether way, I started to think that J would not come after me after almost three months had past. So I told T that he didn't have to walk me to work, next door, any more. One week later, I was right outside the big picture glass windows of work when J popped out of the bushes behind me, and knocked me to the ground. While he was choking me with one hand pressed firmly down on my throat, he began beating me in the face with his other fist.

How long did this continue before several men from inside the restaurant  and T from our apartment,  ran to my rescue, I don't know.. A minute, maybe only seconds… But for me it was forever. Everything was going black. I was struggling to be free, struggling to pull his hand from my throat. Struggling to breath.

It took 4 men to pull him off of me. And J was not a large man. In fact, he was rather small for a man. But he was so enraged that it took all four of those men to not only pull him off of me, but to hold him down until the police arrived, 45 minutes after someone had dialed 911 when J first jumped out of the bushes. The woman that called 911 was my manager. She knew the whole story. She knew that there was a warrant for J and she knew that I had an order of protection against him. And she told the police all this on the phone. 45 minutes! I would have been dead by that time!

The other strange thing about the polices late arrival was they brought someone from Child protective Serves with them. They knew that my girls had been staying with their grandparents for their safety until J was caught. Why did they wait, in an emergency situation for someone from Cps to arrive to come with them? I never thought about that then. Only later, when it was all over. Did they already have a plan even back then? I still don't know. All I knew for sure at that time was I was alive and J had been caught and was taken to jail.

Amazingly enough, and much to the judge's credit, J was determined to be a flight risk and no bail was set. My babies came home! I finally felt they and I were safe. A lot worse for the wear but happy none the less; I brought Little R and L home to stay……….

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June 25, 2006 - Posted by | past

1 Comment »

  1. You were a good mother getting them out as soon as you knew something was wrong. You were a good mother believing your child when she told you and telling her it wasn’t her fault. You were a good mother trying to find help. What a brave and strong person you were while living in that hell you tried constantly to rise above it.

    Comment by mskimkim | June 25, 2006 | Reply


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