Tag Archives: Being a Single Mom

Challenges and rewards of being a single mom

We Owe It To The Kids

Sometimes we get so involved in the drama and trauma of our lives with the narcissist we forget about how it is affecting the kids. We may think they aren’t listening or aren’t damaged by what is going on because kids have amazing resilience and ability to hide their feelings. When there is tension in the house they may act out, school grades may drop, or they may withdraw and become very quiet. We assume that ; if we don’t see a change in their behaviour or personality, that they are unaffected. But there are kids who have learned how to adapt just like you, where the bizarre and unacceptable has become the norm, or maybe its all they know so to them it is normal.

The older ones may be able to discuss dad’s moods with amazing insight and even humor, so you assume they are coping well. But, if you think about it, isn’t it heart wrenching that you are talking to your children about their father (or mother) in these terms? What does it teach them about healthy families, respect, love?

A parent should never criticize the other parent to the children but with a narcissist how do you not discuss the other parent when they act in totally unacceptable ways or treat the children poorly. Do you allow the child to be criticized and not intervene in some way? Do you quietly bite your tongue until the tirade is over and then take the child aside and try to repair the damage?

When children are involved the adult has to make choices based on what is best for the child not what they “wish”, not based on what they want, but based on what is reality.

Is it ever good for a child to live in fear of a parent’s wrath? To have to walk on egg shells? To never measure up to impossibly high standards?

I’ve said that I had never been in an abusive relationship before I met JC, but that is a lie I suppose because I was married 3 times.

My 2nd marriage didn’t last 6 months. I met the guy in the gym weight training. My dad and step mom loved him, he was infatuated with me. It was a whirlwind romance, he moved into a place just down the street from me shortly after we started dating. I didn’t like how he wanted to occupy all my time but he doted on Kris, Kris loved him, he read Kris bedtime stories, Kris followed him around like a little shadow.

Kris was missing having a dad in his life like his friends had and I did a stupid thing; I married the guy thinking it was best for Kris.

Shortly before the wedding the guy’s mother took me aside and said, “You don’t need to marry him, you don’t need a man in your life, you have a house.” She was Hungarian and spoke broken English and I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me and the wedding was only a few weeks away.
On the night of the wedding the guy started criticizing the fact that I smoked, (he did too), said I drank too much, was irritated by Kris. But the next day he was fine again.

I had a small cabin at Cultus Lake and he blamed his moods on the fact that he felt less of a man because the house was in my name and I controlled all the finances, so I sold my cabin and we bought a bigger place and put it in both names. As you can all guess his moods did not improve.

I watched how he was with Kris, I started getting a knot in my stomach when we pulled in the driveway. We were both walking on egg shells when we got home. Then one night after Kris was in bed we were arguing and Kris came out of his bedroom with his baseball bat. The guy had never laid a hand on me but Kris had never heard arguing before and he was afraid of the guy. It broke my heart that my little 5 yr old son had come with his baseball bat to protect me. What must he have been feeling in his gut, what a brave little guy to be willing to face off with a muscle bound asshole who was screaming at his mom.

The next day I kicked the guy out. He wanted 1/2 of the house and I gave him $6500. We had agreed on $10,000 (every birthday & special holidays I had requested some home improvement as a gift now he was counting that as his investment in the house). But the house needed a new roof so I deducted the cost of the roof and he got $6500. I drove over to where he was living and handed him the cash. When he saw it wasn’t the full $10,000 he started spouting off and I told him.”You had better take it and get the fuck out of my life, you don’t want to push me.”
And he did. People have told me that when I am really angry something happens to my eyes and its enough to put the fear of God into a person. I guess that day it worked.

I never talk about the guy because we were divorced before our 1 st anniversary and I never spoke to him again. In my mind he was a glitch, a mistake that I corrected as soon as I recognized it and that was the end of it.

That is why my son and family could not believe I tolerated the abuse from JC. But there were a few things that were different with JC; for one thing and the biggest reason; I had no one but myself to protect. I was going to say the other reason was with JC I didn’t have the house, money or available credit but then I remembered Allen, JC’s son.

Actually, the reason I am even discussing this today is I got a message from Allen the other day.

Allen and his mom are on my FaceBook. We don’t chat much any more, just “Like” and “LOL” mostly. He has a great lady for a mom, she is very attractive, she was just a child when JC got her pregnant, he hit her once and her mom and stepdad took her out of there and went back east for 14 years.

When JC found her he and I had just gotten back together the last time. We got back together at the end of Dec 2008 and he found her and Allen at the end of January. I have a feeling he found her sooner but waited to have me firmly hooked as his backup in case she didn’t bite the bait.

As it turned out her and I both thought he was a changed man, he was playing both of us but she didn’t fully take the bait, she got involved with another man. Anyway, to make a long story short, Allen came to live with us in BC.

At first everything was great, JC played the role of perfect father. Allen was in teenage boy heaven, he had the father all teenage boys dream of. He was cool, played guitar, they liked the same music, JC dressed cool, had a bit of a laid back dude kinda way about him. Had a Harley, a really dressed out semi, and a stock 1970 Impala with low profile tires;  that rumbled along and a JC could smoke the tires for a full block. He let Allen drive the semi, they stayed up all night listening to music and polishing the chrome on the semi. JC let him smoke, spent money on him like there was no tomorrow. What more could a 14 yr old boy want? All his buddies thought he had the coolest dad around.

But he wasn’t with us long before JC started criticizing the kid, it didn’t matter what the kid did it was never good enough. Allen was ADHD with a bit of OCD mixed in to keep it interesting but he was a good kid. You just had to know how to relate to him. I would have him ride with me and pay him to work. If he worked hard he got paid cash if he didn’t work we still had fun; I bought him lunch but he got no cash, before long he was jumping out of the truck when we pulled into a job site, he knew what to do and did it. He got excited about different things we’d find, he was eager to help. I was building a pond in the yard and he helped me, we always had a lot of laughs. We talked about God, work ethic, what he wanted to be when he got older, he even surprised me by cooking supper a few nights.

I kept a supply of greeting cards that said, “thanks, way to go, keep it up, congratulations”. And would slide one under his bedroom door once in a while when he did something noteworthy.

JC had lost interest in parenting pretty quick after Allen arrived and Allen stopped idolizing him. He was a resilient kid, I would ask him how he felt about things his dad said or did and he would just say, “That’s dad”.

JC stopped coming home some nights, refused to buy groceries, Allen and I bonded even more through adversity. Him, me and Kato.

I never criticized his dad to him and never discussed how his dad treated me but I knew Allen saw it. I think JC’s plan was to have Allen come out, force me out of the relationship and bring Allen’s mom out to BC. But his plan backfired, with his son and his sister.

I found a letter he had written Allen’s mom saying he had been waiting 15 years for her so another year or two didn’t matter. He said, “You never expected I would be raising our son someday and look where he is, and I’m doing a good job of it, even if I say so myself”. Not one word about me. ( do they not realize people are not stupid? She knew he was living with me and she talked to her son regularly. She knew the truth. How can you say you were waiting for someone 15 years when you were living with a woman for 10 of those years?)

Then came the day Allen ate JC’s donut and JC called him a “Fucking pig!” and punched him, started pounding on him. I stepped in between them and Allen ran out. JC yelled after him to never come back.

I went out and found Allen at the neighbors where he had just called the cops. He and I were interviewed separately by the cop and our stories matched exactly. I overheard JC talking to the cop and he was his usual calm, lying self; blaming it all on Allen.

Allen refused to press charges and the cop told me to call if there were any more problems. Allen asked if he had done the right thing calling the police and I reassured him “Yes!! He did exactly what he should have”. He said, “I just want Dad to know he can’t do that. I just want him to stop being mean to you and to go back to the dad I met. I don’t want him to go to jail.”

He went back to the neighbors and I went in to see how JC was. He seemed calmed down, a few hours passed and I saw Allen at the patio door. He came in like nothing had happened. I thought, “good kid, no attitude.” JC came flying out of the bedroom screaming,”I told you to not come back”. And pushing Allen backwards. I got between them again and I guess my eyes did that thing that they do because when I told JC to back off or I was calling the cops, he did.

Allen was crying and JC told me I was babying him and I told him to ” shut the F up and leave us alone”.
He did. I packed Allen, called a friend and asked them to pick Allen up asap. The friends called when they were almost there and Allen and I walked out to the road to meet them. They asked if I wanted to come along and I said no. Allen and I hugged and said I love you and that was the last time I saw him.

I called his mom; explained the situation and arranged for her to book a flight for him to go home.

I have always felt bad. I know I did the best I could and I have never blamed myself but I always thought, “How sad for Allen, to meet his dad after 14 years and he is everything and more than you ever hoped for and then have it end like that.”

So, back to the other day while I was in Facebook, a message came in from Allen asking how I was. I told him about being published and he asked what I wrote about and I said domestic violence. He said he’d like to read it.
He told me he’s got the most awesome girlfriend, still lives at home with his mom and little sister and he has a job working in a warehouse.

Then he sent another message that brought tears to my eyes.
He said,”I still miss you and think about you and Kato. I want to thank you for all you did for me. I’ll never forget it.”

So, all I have to say about children and a narcissistic parent is this; if you can’t do the right thing for yourself. Do the right thing for the kids. And the right thing is to never allow anyone to hurt them, even if that person is their parent.

Do the right thing for your child, we owe it to the kids to protect them; we brought them into this world. That makes it your duty to protect them.

There is life and light after the narcissist, I promise! Hugs Carrie

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Thankful For The Memories

I used to love all of the traditional holidays, and as much as I love Christmas and the decorations I think my favorite holiday has always been Thanksgiving. It was my favorite because you got the big turkey dinner, the family get-together and none of the commercialized gift crap.

I started a tradition at my Thanksgiving table that as we ate we would go around the table and everyone had to say what they were thankful for. It didn’t matter what had gone on in someone’s life they were still expected to come up with some thing.

Years ago before Kris was born Victor, my 1st husband had lost his brother in a tragic fishing accident. They had been fishing and drinking out on the lake in early spring so the water was extremely cold. The boat flipped, there were three of them and only two life jackets. Victor was going to swim for help, he was the most physically fit. Don was a big guy, couldn’t swim and was panicking so they got him in a lift vest first. Victor’s brother, Micheal,  was wirey and probably weighed 75 – 100 lbs less than Victor and had the other life jacket on. They decided Victor should stay with Don because he was stronger and could keep Don from drowning and Micheal would swim to shore for help.

Michel and he argued about the life jacket, Victor wanted Michel to wear it and Micheal wanted Victor to wear it. Micheal agreed to keep it on but he swam a ways and then turned and threw it back to Victor.

They waited and waited; it wasn’t that far to shore; but it was dusk and they couldn’t see if Micheal made it. Finally after calling out and not getting a reply Victor left Don and swam to shore. He ran down the road calling for Micheal, nothing. Then a truck came by and they hadn’t seen any one.

They got Don out of the lake, but they had to drag the lake the next morning and found Micheal, he had drowned only a few yards from shore; they figured he had succumbed to the cold. Victor had a horrible time dealing with his brother’s death and at the reception we had at our house after the funeral he ran off down the street so consumed with grief I imagine he was trying to out run it.

I went to go after him and my older brother John (a weight trainer, who was solid muscle) stopped me and said he’d go. A while later I saw the most heart wrenching scene I have ever seen; coming across the front lawn was my brother with tears running down his face packing Victor in his arms like a baby. He packed him into the bedroom and tucked him into bed.

That Thanksgiving my mom was cooking the Turkey and she thought it would be too painful for Victor to say what he was grateful for so she didn’t do it. When we got home Victor said,”We didn’t say what we were thankful for this year” I told him my mom didn’t think we should because it would be too hard on him. He said,”But I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say for weeks.” I told him to phone my mom and tell her.” So he did. Micheal loved the thankfulness thing and would have been proud of his brother.

Another favorite Thanksgiving was while I was living at Cultus Lake. It was a fall similar to this year, very warm sunny days and brisk cold nights. The salmon were spawning, the crowds of summer had left until next year, the lake was like glass and the full time residents were out walking enjoying having their lake back. I wasn’t going to do a big dinner, my mom and step dad were on vacation, my cousin had plans, it was just Kris and I and I was quite looking forward to not having a house full. Then my brother called and asked if he could bring a date for Thanksgiving dinner.

Me: Oh! uh! sure! See you tomorrow, whenever you get here will be fine.

I jumped in the car and ripped down the hill to buy a turkey. There was no time to thaw a turkey so I had to spend the extra money and buy a fresh one. It was bar none THE best Thanksgiving dinner I have ever eaten or cooked. I kept it simple, Brussels Sprouts in a cream sauce, home made stuffing, no sausage, or nuts; just good old fashioned bread stuffing with fresh herbs from my garden. mashed potatoes, sweet potato broiled with brown sugar glaze, corn, and my favorite casserole of broccoli, cauliflower and Durkee onions. I had everything prepared the night before so it was just a matter of popping things in the oven.

I put the bird in the oven and walked to the lake, stopping to have a chat with my girlfriend Tina on the way. She joined me for a glass of wine on the dock. It was such a beautiful day, so warm I decided to take a dip in the lake with my clothes on,and was just going up to the house looking like a drowned rat when my brother pulled up with his “flavor of the week”, a gorgeous model. I got changed and we went for a long walk, played in the playground.

My brother pushed me on the merry go round until I couldn’t walk and thought I was going to be sick, then we wandered home. I had no idea how long to cook a fresh turkey but before we even opened the door we could smell its deliciousness. Dinner was flawless and we ate until we had to undo our pants moaning and groaning asking each other,”Why do I always do this?” They stayed the night and I sent home leftovers for both of them. It was a glorious day.

This year I am thankful I have memories like that; so many wonderful memories.

Even the last year JC and I were together; he had told me he wanted me to move out, his sister was still staying with us and his mom had given us a turkey. The bird wouldn’t fit in our tiny oven so I decided to cook it on the barbeque. As always I made my own stuffing and this time I kept dinner really simple but it was so tasty. I wrote JC and his sister each a letter saying what about them I was thankful for. It was a very nice dinner, bitter sweet because it was like the last supper but we had good conversation even though JC had to say it was nice to finally get a decent meal. I went to bed alone.

In the morning there was a letter from JC on the table for me and he had shoved one under the door of his sisters bedroom. They were nice letters; too bad he didn’t mean what he wrote. Mine was blank on the first 1/2 and he started by saying,”I have no idea what I was supposed to write above.” Then he said he needed to change his attitude and promised he was going to change, things were going to change……for the better. Two weeks later he made us miss his nieces wedding.

Ah well. I am thankful I no longer hold false hope that he will change. I recently heard he has not changed at all. I’m not surprised but it is little consolation.

I am thankful I have healed as much as I have and I actually go days without crying.

I am thankful for everyone who visits my blog, them sharing their stories has helped me more than I ever thought it would and more than they could know.

I am amazed and thankful that I have had almost 43,000 hits and almost 200 followers. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would reach that many people.

Every time I check messages and there is one that says “thank god I found this site” or “You literally saved my life” I am thankful I started the blog and I am accomplishing what I set out to do.

I am thankful my son is working and happy, although I miss him horribly.

I am thankful he messaged me yesterday and said, “Everything is going to be ok. I love you” .
I messaged back. “Why do you say that!? Are you ok?? I love you too Honey”.
His reply: Lol I was being supportive; I know you’ve had a tough couple of years.
Me: Oh! Thank you but stop it! you had me worried.

I am thankful that my puppies love me.

I am thankful that I am not sleeping in my truck.

I am thankful I have hope for a better future because last year I didn’t have any hope. And without hope life isn’t worth living.

I am thankful I laugh regularly now.

I will be thankful when this weekend is over and I don’t feel so lonely.

     HAPPY THANKSGIVING!! to my friends all over the world. Tell me what you are thankful for this year or share a Thanksgiving memory.

Heaven on Earth

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth.
One is nearer to God in a garden
Than any place else on earth.

Dorothy Francis Gurney

The above is an exert from a poem by Dorothy Francis Gurney; I used to have a wooden plaque hanging in my garden with that verse on it.

Through the worst times of my life I have found comfort in my garden. When JC and I were at the resort I spent hours tending my garden, crying, praying for answers, praying for strength, praying for my son and my brother, praying to be given one more chance to save my boy, praying for serenity, and sometimes cursing God for giving me too much to handle.

I always came away from my garden feeling calmer, stronger; it was my refuge. It has been for most of my life. When I lived at the lake before I even met JC I would be out there with a flashlight and a glass of wine tending my garden. It seemed the harder the time I was going through the more beautiful my gardens were. Every year I dug up more sod for more flowers. The little English lady that lived across the street and could barely walk made her way across the road slowly with her walker and came up to where I was pulling weeds and she said, ” I want to thank you for your lovely gardens. I look out my window and your gardens take me back to my childhood and the lovely English gardens. You have a loving touch; I’ve watched you. I just wanted you to know you have given this old lady much pleasure with your gardens.” and she shuffled back to her house. I’ll never forget it and of course I cried.

When we were at the resort I couldn’t afford plants but all the neighbour brought over plants and bulbs as they thinned out their gardens, one brought over a filing box with tons of different seeds for me to pick from. It was a tough year emotionally, like I said, I did alot of praying. It was the most beautiful garden I’ve ever had.

Gardening is so community minded, it brings people together, gives them something to talk about. A person can be talking by and feel free to say, “Your garden is lovely”. Or gardeners are always so willing to share plants, advice, and ask questions. Somehow a garden removes fences, class distinction, age, and even gender, gardeners are all on the same team.

I missed my gardens this year, I planted gardens last year and got compliments but I didn’t take the time to enjoy them because I was on borrowed time there and was trying to work as much as possible. This year I did plant some, but lack of water took its toll.

I pray that someday I have a tiny place, nothing fancy, I’m easy to please. 400 sq ft would do me just fine, with a fireplace (there is nothing like coming home from a long walk on a brisk fall day and the house is toasty warm from a crackling fire) There are few things more rewarding than getting up in the morning to a cold house and finding a few red embers still in the wood stove because all that’s necessary is to pull ghetto damper and throw on a few dry pieces of wood and in minutes the house is warm again.
I want a kitchen big enough that I can cook a pot of soup or chilli or maybe a pot roast and have a few friends over to share my fire and a bottle of wine.  lots of windows to let the sun shine in and hang crystals in. And a covered porch to hang wind chimes and a wooden rocking chair so I can sit out there even when it rains. One wall of book shelves for all those books I keep moving with me and some day want to read, but they look good until then. 🙂 I love books.

A place I can paint. A freezer I can fill with baking at Christmas and maybe even some cabbage rolls and tourtierre. A bath tub I can fill with bubble bath and keep adding hot water to until I am pink and wrinkly.

And a tiny yard trimmed with gardens.

And never have to move; just grow old there, Grandma’s house. Where my son and grand daughter can come to visit and know there are cookies in the cookie jar and my son will go to the freezer and grab some frozen cookies and I can give him shit for eating them before Christmas.

That is what I pray for. Not much, nothing fancy; not a knight in shining armor to save me, no trips around the world. Just a little bit of heaven on earth. The sun for pardon, the bbirds song for mirth.

What for you pray for?

Happy Birthday Jason Alan

I don’t have anything to say; yet could write volumes.

I have no expectations; only hopes and dreams for you.

I don’t know you; but I love you.

Happy 37th Birthday Jason Alan

With Love your Birth Mom

Doing The Right Thing Should Be Easy

James insisted he had grabbed the chain out of Kris’s hand. I told him I didn’t know what to believe. He asked me to at least check out what he was telling me and I promised I would.

I picked Kris up from the hospital the next morning and I told him I had talked to James and heard the messages he had sent.

I was angry, I had specifically told him to not start anything and had asked him why he needed my phone when he borrowed it that night and he had lied to me.

I was angrier at myself, I felt guilty for dragging my son into my mess. I knew he would feel the need to protect his momma. I had a feeling in my gut when we pulled up that something wasn’t right. I had only given in and let him come home with me to avoid arguing with him; I had wanted to be alone. Now it was a huge mess and I could have prevented it all.(mind you, in retrospect James definitely had something planned when he started putting all the lights on his truck and had been very intimidating that night. Who knows what would have happened if I would have gone home alone.)

Kris admitted the chain was the chain he used to lock his bike up and he had hooked it onto his belt loop of his pants. The knife was the one that his dad had given him that he always packed. It had been in the pocket of his cargo pants and must have fallen out in the fight.

I told him he had to go to the police and tell the truth, he flatly refused. I told him that if he lied in court he would be charged with purgery and besides I had always taught him to be honest.

From the time he was wee that had been the one thing I always harped on with him; always tell the truth, as long as you are honest things will work out and you never get in as much trouble as if you are caught lying.

He would not change his mind and I told him that I would not lie for him in court. He said I didn’t have to lie; just tell them what I saw. I said I can’t do that; I know the truth now and to pretend I don’t would be lying. I just could not lie; not even for my son; it went against everything I stood for, I was heartsick. 

I went to meet James secretly a couple of times and told him Kris refused to change his testimony but told him to give Kris time to think about it. If he didn’t change his mind in a couple of days I would go to the cops and tell them what I knew. Of course I was too stupid to realize James was being so loving and understanding because he was orchestrating his defense.

Out of the blue Kris asked if he could talk to James, he wanted to apologize. I called James and he agreed to meet us. Kris got out of my car and shook James hand and apologized for the messages and the fight and James did the same, I thought we were getting somewhere but when Kris got back in the car he still refused to go to the police with the truth. 

I called the police and told the officer who had been there that night that I had new information and that my son had confessed to me it was his knife and chain. He said to save it for court. I said why wait? Why waste taxpayer dollars going to court when it could all be sorted out now. He refused to take my statement. I decided to write Crown Counsel myself explaining the whole situation.

By this time I had moved into an apartment in Abbotsford and had started full time college.  My son was not supposed to be living with me. When he had come back from Calgary it was supposed to be for a few weeks until he got a job and saved for a place. I was on a very limited student government grant to upgrade my skills; it wasn’t enough for me to live on let alone support Kris. When he quit school in Grade 10 I had told him he’d better get a job because if he wasn’t in school I was not supporting him.
He was hanging with a bad crowd, bringing them back to the apartment while I was in school and the neighbors were complaining. The landlady warned me that he had to move out or I would be evicted; so I told him he had to get out.

James and I were seeing each other again (something I am not proud of and I am sure contributed to Kris’s attitude, I packed guilt about it for years, I apologized to Kris and he forgave me long before I could forgive myself. I have forgiven myself finally. I did the best I could and I screwed up, but my guilt was keeping me from being the best mom I could be, now! I had to let it go)

I wrote my letter to crown counsel and James had written his. The first statement I wrote put all the blame on James the 2nd one laid it on Kris and was heavily influenced by James, in the 3rd and final I laid the blame on myself, saying I should not have told Kris anything to begin with or had Kris come home with me that night. I should have been more aware of what he was doing that night with my phone and basically just stated the facts surrounding that night. James was not happy with my revised version and tried to pressure me into changing it but I refused. Once again, I was sticking to the belief that the truth was the best way to deal with it.

I had my statement typed, signed, and in a sealed envelope on the counter, James was taking his in and offered to take mine at the same time.

A few days later James took me for breakfast and we had a really good talk. I went to school very positive about us. We got out of class early that day and I was anxious to get home to James. When I got to the apartment his truck was parked out front loaded with his stuff from the apartment and with things he had given me; like a TV. He was pulling away when I ran up to the truck and asked what he was doing. He said it was over, he was moving into a warehouse, it was never going to work out between us and that was it. I was devastated, dazed, confused standing there in the parking lot crying as he drove away. I could barely function, went up to the apartment and Kris was on the couch sleeping, he hadn’t even woken up with James moving.

James was so cold and matter of fact about it ending and at this point I still believed he was honest. I admit I grovelled for another chance, I promised to change, I said I would take the relationship on his terms, anything just don’t end it. We spent a couple of nights together at the warehouse and when I went back to the apartment after school I couldn’t open the door; the locks had been changed.

It was a Friday and my landlady didn’t answer her phone, I had no idea where Kris was or what had happened. The door jamb was broken so obviously someone had kicked the door in. I found him at a friends. He told me that when he moved out he took the handheld phone and was able to buzz himself in. He kicked the door open and went to sleep in the lazyboy chair. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep/passed out when he was woken up by someone kicking the chair. He grabbed a pair of scissors and was brandeshing them when he realized it was the landlady and a cop standing there. He told them I had packed up and left him there. They believed him, didn’t call me, gave him ten minutes to pack up his clothes, kicked him out and changed the locks.

Yes I know she couldn’t legally do that but she did and I lost everything because she gave me a one chance to get my things and James didn’t show up with the truck.

I called Crown counsel and they said they never received my statement so I called the police officer and he said he had it in the file at the police station. I told him Crown would look at it and he said it could wait until court.

I was totally frustrated by the police, I felt like they were playing games. The night of the fight one officer took Kris and my statement and another officer took James’s. They had asked James for his address and he had given his buddy’s address in the resort. He was  told that if he wasn’t at that address he would be arrested for being in breach of his conditions for release. I was told that he was not to be in the park and if he was seen in the park to call them and he would be arrested. I had called the police many times to ask if he was allowed in the park and no one could give me an answer. The attending cop went from 4 days off to being on vacation. So Kris and I thought James was purposely harassing us when in fact he had to be at the resort. Mind you he did follow us and he did intimidate us with the bright headlights etc. But the whole situation was escalated by the cops not commumicating. Finally the night JC was escorted to get his things was the first time he was told to not come back, even to visit friends.

The whole situation was out of control and the police seemed to be enjoying the show.

The way the whole thing was handled was unprofessional, disorganized, and instead of difusing the situation the police contributed to emotions esculating to dangerous levels. Not once was I contacted by victim services or someone from a Domestic Violence support group, my concerns were literally laughed at by the police. And JC was revelliing in the fact that he had managed to turn things in his favor again. I knew he had a restraining order put on him years prior by the girl that had his baby and I told the police to check his file in Alberta. They said nothing showed up, but I found out later that a person can pay $400 and have their record sealed.

Jason Alan’s Birthday

It’s coming up to that time of year again; September 19th. It is kinda hard to tell lately but usually I go into a bit of a depressed, teary state the closer Sept 19th gets. It has always been the time of year that I make big changes; like my own new years. For years if I was going to break up with someone, move, change jobs; I did it some time near the end of September.

He’ll be turning 37; far from a little boy, he probably has kids of his own. I pray he isn’t like his biological father, I hope he has a tender heart and is a good person. I really hope his parents loved him and he knows he is loved. I wonder if he looks anything like me and if I would recognize him.

I had a very strange thing happen about a month ago. As we all do from time to time, I checked how many followers I have and then checked who they were. I was scrolling down the list and 6 months ago a Jason Alan started following my blog. I would have picked up on that name immediately had I seen it when he signed up but he didn’t use that name when he signed up to follow me; he used something like ” the madpoet” and I remember seeing that name.

Anyway, of course I was very curious so I checked out his blog ” Jasonalanwriter” . His profile didn’t hold any revealing info so I started to read one of his posts. In the post he was talking about being in grade 3 in 1985. I thought; ok a person is 6 when they start grade 1, his birthday is in September so he would have either started school at the age of 5 or if he started at age 6 he would have turned 7 in grade 1 and been 10 in grade 3. Now I had to find out more so I Googled his name and found his FB where he has his birthday listed. I was September 1975 but not the 19th (I believe it was the 12th, to be honest once I saw it wasn’t the 19th any other date really was of no consequence) and it said he was born and raised in Texas.

I was told that the people who adopted my Jason were university teachers in Vancouver. I suppose they could have moved to Texas but of course my Jason was born in Chilliwack. They had said they were going to tell him he was adopted and they had liked his name and were going to keep it. They were also going to send pictures and didn’t, so who knows. That many years ago a girl didn’t have much say in what happened to her baby.

I have one well worn piece of paper where I signed him over to child services and a card from one of the nuns from a home for unwed mothers packed away in storage and that is all I have as far as a keepsakes of his birth.

It certainly got my heart racing though. It got me thinking too; what if it had been him? There was a time I would have been proud to say “I am your birth mother”, but right now, for him to meet me would be hard. For him and me. When Kris and I lived at the lake I envisioned us meeting, or when I had the house in Chilliwack, but since I met James there were few times I was comfortable with where we lived.

I was proud of where I was at in 2008, before I went back to James. I could have sat down with my stranger son and discussed my life and it would have been believable and I think would have shown his momma was a fighter, but you know; to explain how I got where I am right now sounds unbelievable to my own ears. I can only imagine how it would sound to him.

When James told me about meeting his birth mom he talked about how his grandma, aunt and mom had always looked for him; how welcome he felt; what a great experience it was. There would be only Kris and I.

When I gave him up for adoption everyone closed the book, except me.

When Kris was wee, long before I told him about Jason; he used to ask me where his brother was. I remember when he was about 4 he had asked where his brother was and I had said he didn’t have one and he got angry and said he most certainly did.

I think alot of people are psychic and as we get older we block it out. Kris often said things that “didn’t make sense at the time” like one time he asked me what happened to the white car. I asked what white car.
Kris – The white car we had before the red car.
Me – what red car?
Kris getting just as exasperated as me – You know!, the we had s white car and then we had a red car; what happened to the white car, I liked it better.
Me – Kris we have never had a white car or a red car. Is this a story?
Kris – forget it mom.

We had a burgundy Reliant K car at the time; the same one Victor bought just before his accident. About 6 months after Kris and my conversation about white cars and red cars the Reliant died and I bought a new car – a white Nissan Sentra. I loved that car! It was a 1988 SE and fully loaded, it was a new car with only 80 km on it but I bought it at the end of 1988 so I got a really good deal on it.

I had just picked Kris up from daycare about 2 months after we got it and we were T-boned at an intersection and the car was totalled. Luckily I had gotten replacement insurance so ICBC had to find me one exactly like it. There wasn’t another one in all of Canada so they ended up getting me a Red 1989 Nissan Sentra. Kris unwittingly had predicted the future.

So when he asked about a brother I knew he “felt” his brother’s existence. I hadn’t wanted to tell him about Jason until he was old enough to understand the circumstances and that I wouldn’t “give him away” too. I think he was about 8 or 9 when I told him and he hadn’t been surprised at all and just said, “I KNEW it, I told you!”

I hope he has had a good life, I have a feeling he did; certainly better than the life I would have been able to provide at that age. I remember the day he was born as clearly as if it was yesterday.

Where did the time go? So much has happened since then yet when I think its been 37 years its hard to believe.

Ambushed

I was in a very tiny old trailer, it had one bedroom with a double bed and very small open living area, but it had a large covered concrete patio. The patio was closed in with lattice work with a screen door entering it. I had strung white lights through the lattice and they provided a warm glow. My son slept on the couch so with JC there it was crowded. After a week I asked when he was getting out and he said he wasn’t ready. I told him this is what he had wanted and now he had to live with his decision, it wasn’t fair to me or Kris for him to stay.

He was pissing off the neighbours by working on his truck in the middle of the roadway. The landlord was getting complaints and I had told him my son was moving in but not JC. Still JC did not leave, I called the police and asked to have him removed and they said I would have to evict him.
*I forgot to mention that before JC moved out of the house I went over to borrow the truck, my son was there working on a car he had bought off JC (actually my mom bought it). JC wouldn’t let me use the truck but I went to take it anyway and JC ran out of the house and threw me out of the truck. My son stepped in and said,” If you ever hit my mom you’ll have to deal with me”. JC said, “I’ve already hit your mom and I’ll hit you too punk”
Kris ran off to get a baseball bat. He came to his senses dropped the bat and came home. Anyway even after that my son wanted to save JC’s stuff and welcomed him to stay for a few days but this was going too far.
Everyday I asked JC to please move out. He wasn’t happy to be there, he was miserable, sullen and distant. So leave!!
I put all his stuff out on the patio. I was very careful to not damage anything and even took my photos out of a rubbermaid container and put them in a card board box so his photos wouldn’t get wrecked. When I got home there was some kind of liquid spilt on the patio with a pool of it by the storage room door. My girlfriend lived nextdoor and when she saw I was home she walked over with her dog, I saw her dog licking the liquid and then she left. A little while later her dog was convulcing. She took her dog to the vet and I deciding to check out the source of the liquid. I opened the shed door and there was an empty antifreeze jug on the floor and all my photos were sopping wet. I was heartbroken, JC said it had been an accident.

I had designed and had made a ring for my son for his 16th birthday using old jewelry I had. It was very cool, the gold was formed into his initials, KO. I had a small diamond set in for my birthday and his birthstone was sapphire. I also had a dinner ring made for myself with the 2 stones set in. Both rings disappeared. We never found them by I have my suspicions as to where they went. (interestingly years later when JC got engaged to the young girl in Africa their rings were designed very much the same)

I started to feel very uneasy with JC around, one minute he would be friendly to Kris and I and then later act like he couldn’t stand us. He bought contact lens but made a big deal about the fact that he couldn’t put them in by himself. I never saw him wear them. One day he had gone out and I noticed his glasses on the fridge. I thought, “omg JC forgot his glasses, he’s blind without them, how could he see to drive?”

Then I noticed it was just glass in the frames. I thought it was strange but put them back on the fridge and forgot about them.

I kept putting JC’s things back out on the patio whenever he brought stuff in yet he did not leave.

He worked for two weeks putting lights on his truck. He mounted 3 high powered fog lights in his front bumper and really bright hallogen bulbs in his headlights. Then he mounted a directional search light to the roof of his truck on the drivers side. He installed two directional work lights to the head ache rack on the back of his truck.

I was walking up to the trailer one evening and could hear cupboards slamming. Ignoring my gut I went in. JC had been going through all my cupboards and pulled out my receipts, journal, all my info on domestic violence, my calendar with dates marked when he had been violent, letters he had written me and he was furious. He started in on me immediately with his right or wrong, yes or no crap and I said I was not going to discuss anything with him.  He just kept badgering me so I went to leave but he blocked my way, my purse was on the kitchen table but I couldn’t get to it. He was pushing me around so I tried to go in the bathroom to get away from him but he pushed the door open before I could lock it. I managed to squeeze past him, giving him a push as I did and ran!!! As I passed the kitchen table I grabbed my purse and didn’t look back until I was in my car with the doors locked. He was standing at the screen door staring at me as I pulled away and headed into town. My phone started ringing immediately, it was JC telling me to come back, I refused and hung up. He kept calling and finally I weakened and picked it up.
Me – yes
JC – Baby, I love you
Me – I love you too, but you scared me.
JC – baby, I would never hurt you I just wanted you to admit some things, for the first time I felt we were getting some where. We can work it out baby. Come home please.
Me – I just need some time ok? I’ll come back in a while I just need time to think ok?
JC – OK Baby, I really do love you.
Me crying – I love you too, I’m just tired of the fighting.
JC – oh baby, I hate it when you cry, just come home please. We don’t have to talk, but you’re too upset to be driving around. Where are you, I’ll come get you?
Me – No, I’m ok. Honest, I’ll come home in a bit.
JC – Ok. Babe?
Me – yes
JC – I love you more than ever.
Me – I love you too JC.

I pulled over to the side of the road to take a deep breath and get my wits about me and realized how much I was shaking.

Right about then Kris walked past with a couple of friends pushing his bike. When he saw me of course he was immediately concerned. I told him JC and I had a fight, so I left but we had talked on the phone and he was calmed down I just didn’t feel like going back yet.

Kris put his bike in the trunk and we decided to visit friends who lived near by. JC called again and I told him where I was and to please stop calling and give me some time to think. I refused to answer my phone after that and my friends poured me a glass of wine and we talked. Kris sat with us a while and then went outside with friends. I wasn’t paying much attention to what he was doing. At one point he asked to borrow my cell phone because his was dead and I let him use it.

Before I knew it it was 3 am and I was exhausted. JC called again and I asked him to please just go somewhere for the night and we could talk in the morning but I was just too tired to face him tonight. He agreed to leave me alone. I told Kris he could come with me as long as he promised to not go on and on about JC, I just wanted to sleep. I knew he would worry if he didn’t come so I let him drive me home. I called JC to say I was on my way home and Kris was with me. He said to give him 5 more minutes. I said ok and then my phone died.
JC tried to call again but my phone didn’t have enough charge left and dropped the call.
We got home 10 minutes later and JC’S truck was parked across the front of the trailer with all his spot lights blazing, so we parked across the street.

Something was not right about the whole scene. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was but my gut was telling me to not stay. I was so tired, all I wanted was my bed.

Kris got his bike out of the trunk and I said, “Now don’t go looking for a fight, we’ll just walk right past him, into the trailer and lock the door.

JC’s spot lights were blinding, it was hard to even see the ground. We had to squeeze between the deck of the truck and the lattice work to get in the door and once we were inside it was pitch black. It took a minute for my eyes to adjusted before I could even see the door of the trailer. I heard Kris say, “I thought I told you to get out”.
I turned and all I got out was, “Kris”
JC was on Kris and Kris was saying, “I don’t want to fight JC, just leave.”
I tried to get between them but JC threw me out of the way, and threw Kris on to the patio table that collapsed under their weight. I was trying to dial 911 but couldn’t I was shaking so badly, so I screamed for help. I tried to pull JC off Kris and when that didn’t work I climbed on his back and started bashing him in the head with my phone.  I saw a chain wrapped around JC’s fist and tried to hold back his arm. I kept screaming for help, time seemed to be standing still; why wasn’t anyone coming?!!!
Then somewhere in the darkness I heard, “Do you want us to call the police?”
Omg, finally!!
Me – JC stop, its over, people are here.
He looked at me almost like he didn’t recognize me.