I hate feeling damaged. I hate having to fight back tears and curse words. I hate being afraid all the time.
For months I begged him to get help. When he wouldn’t I begged him to just leave me alone. When he wouldn’t do that I filed a restraining order.
He’s made it clear now that he won’t obey it.
The next step is a criminal complaint. I will need to serve him the petition/summons and present my case in court. I don’t know if I have enough evidence or not. I don’t know if I have the strength.
I never did attend counseling. The places that take my insurance have obscenly long waitlists. The places that don’t require insurance are out of my price range. I do need counseling though, to survive seeing him at court. I will need counseling afterwards. I’ve started telling parts of the story online, both here and elsewhere. It’s helped put things in perspective. It’s helped organize my thoughts. It’s helped me recognize how really damaging the whole thing was. And still is.
I’ve lived in fear for two years, now why is the only potential solution is just as frightening?
I’ve been making word clouds from some of the emails sent by the man who abused me. It’s absurd, I know, but I needed to be able to laugh at this. And I really needed to re-read and inventory each message so I can track the wax and wane of his psychosis, document specific threats, etc. Unfortunately I deleted some of the most incriminating ones, so I need to seriously consider what can be presented in court. Whether it would make sense to pursue criminal charges.
Several times now I have been advised to resume communication with him, just to gather more evidence. Like I want to invite the threats all over again. But since I deleted some of the early ones there may be no other way to prove what’s been going on.
I hate this. I hate that I feel angry all the time. And I hate being afraid. I’m tired.
So here are some pretty word clouds for you:
Left the office again today because of anxiety. Again because of him.
He found out where my parents live and started mailing packages. I begged them not to open it and to call the police. I had protected my family from this drama for so long. I’m still ashamed that I have to admit to my mother that I’m afraid for my child’s life because of some stupid decisions. I never should have gotten involved with an abuser and drug addict. I never should have let things get so out of control. I shouldn’t have just gotten drunk instead of admitting I was afraid and I needed help. But these things happened. I got pregnant because he took advantage of it. He spent most of my savings on drugs.
The packages will all be returned, with a note reminding him that he’s breaking a restraining order and can be prosecuted. I can’t even imagine what’s inside. Before I moved he would mail me things like half-eaten granola bars. One time he left a ziplock bag full of body hair on my front porch. He delivered a back pack full of his ex girlfriends sex toys. He has this weird fetish about using household objects to pleasure himself and then offering them to people. He likes knowing that people are unknowingly handling objects that have been up his rear end. I don’t want to have to explain to my mother why she can’t touch something as innocent looking as a ceramic cat. I hate having to explain these things to the police. I hate knowing that some day I will probably have to explain it in family court.
I wish I could pay for a lawyer (and a body guard, and a nanny, and a whole bunch of other things.)
I’m starting to doubt that seeing a counselor will help at all. Coming to terms with his abuse isn’t going to do anything to make him stop. This needs to stop.
I had an anxiety attack shortly after arriving at my office this morning. Because babybot’s father emailed me. I react like that just seeing his name pop up in my inbox. I went home and cried for a couple of hours. Made a series of unsuccessful phonecalls (mostly me crying into someone’s voicemail) to family law advocates, domestic violence agencies, and therapists.
Eventually I calmed down enough to actually OPEN the email, which said he plans to file for custody.
This is what I’ve dreaded sinces the moment I realized I was pregnant. I haven’t seen him face to face in 10 months. I haven’t spoken to him since right after she was born. Maybe things have changed since then. (I have to keep telling myself this.) It will eventually be left to a judge to decide whether he is a capable parent or a danger to others. I don’t have to decide it myself, all I have to do is sit in a courtroom and tell the truth. I had to move, change jobs, block numbers, basically go into hiding because I felt my life and hers were in danger. I begged and begged and begged him to get help and he wouldn’t. So he’s never met his child.
My greatest fear is that the judge will allow him to have visitation and he’ll do something terrible to her. I don’t know if I can handle this.
I keep telling myself maybe he has changed. I keep telling myself the judge will make sure we are safe. I keep telling myself this will somehow be okay, but I’m afraid.