I think it is great for younger generations to have a zero tolerance policy on bullying, especially since it's gone from mostly happening in the schoolyard to social media, cell phones, and everything in between. I vividly remember being bullied as a kid, while in private school. I also remember my best friend being bullied. It sucked, but holding on to the fact that once I went home, I'd only have to deal with it the next day at school. Kids now, it's almost impossible to escape a bully which leads to intense depression and ultimately, unfortunately, in some cases, kids taking their own lives because they don't know how else to escape it.
My issue is, what do you do as an adult, when another adult or multiple adults, are bullying you? Who stands up for you? Who makes it stop? In your 30's, suicide can't be the only way out; at least I hope that's not the only resolution.
Most of you know the gist of my story. No one knows the whole thing, and that's mostly because no one can withstand the length of time it takes to fill in all the details. I hope for my sake, to start a book, even if it's just for myself, on being bullied as an adult.
I left Delila's father when she was 8 months old. We had Delila together and he had a son whom after being born, we found out was his; he's 10 months older than Delila. Dating, I always knew he was a hot head, however, people change or can change when they have kids. He unfortunately did not.
I grew resentful when Delila was hospitalized for 5 days at 3 months old for continual vomiting which led to her losing weight. I stayed by her side, every minute. I wouldn't even use the bathroom without leaving the door open in her hospital room. Her dad continued to go to work and would come by for a little bit at night then go home. I did address it with him after a couple days and his response was that someone had to work. My heart broke. Some for myself, more for Delila. I couldn't understand not putting your child first when she was so sick with no known cause.
The night I knew I had to leave was in June of 2005. Something was wrong with the vacuum and he, being a mechanic started to look at it and take it apart. His 18 month old sat next to him, and I stood watching with Delila cradled in my arms. The situation went from zero to sixty very quickly. He couldn't get the hose off the vacuum and it enraged him. He started ripping at the hose and yelling about throwing it in the front yard. I seriously questioned the situation with him because it was ridiculous. In that moment, I knew. I knew that if someone could fly off the handle over a vacuum, my future of living under the same roof as him would be bad for me, but horrible for Delila. So one day he left for work, and I gathered our stuff and left. In that moment of driving away, I sealed my fate, to always, probably for the rest of one of our lives, to be his punching bag, to endure his rage, to listen to his abusive tongue; to be stalked and spied on, and to never -ever- find a way out of it.
In the years to follow, I did my best to protect myself because I lived in fear. On a daily basis I didn't know what would happen. I lived by and made sure those closest to me knew, that if something every happened to me, even by "accident" that he was absolutely behind it. I had him arrested, several times. Harassing phone calls, standing outside my house, looking in my windows, following me; I even had to get a restraining order on him because he threatened my life and those around me. I had hard, physical proof, always, and so this went on for years.
The restraining order was good, but once it was lifted, he figured out how to harass me, just never to the point where it was enough to get in serious trouble. Now the cops, judges, or attorneys just give him a slap on the hand. Which does absolutely nothing, of course, nothing really did much. He had even violated the restraining order when it was in place.
So here we are. 10 years later, I'm 32 - he's 36, and everything you just read above about his behavior is still going on. Except now. No one hears my frustrations, no one sees my tears, it's all old news and exhausting for the outside world. For me, for Delila, we live with it. Every day. He has people spy on my social media. He knows when I mow the lawn or who mows it for me. He pumps lies into Delila's head about me, that I'll kidnap her, that I use pipes and needles, that I break her bones when she gets hurt, that I want her to fail, that I don't love her; his hatred is endless.
The only thing worse than him, is someone else, much like him on his side to back him and to come at me at times he isn't. His mother.
One would think that after a 1.5 year court battle, to which he finally got 50/50 custody instead of me having sole, things would be better. Things only feel like they're getting worse. And still, it's only me. Only me to process the pain and frustrations, only me to stay strong, only me to hope, pray, and guide my daughter to know that people aren't this way, that men shouldn't treat women like this, and that it's so incredibly important to be kind to people in life. Even if they're mean to you.
Below is an email I put together to the GAL from our recent court case. I'm sure he'll never read it, and I'm even more sure that nothing will be done about it, but I needed it documented somehow. I needed someone to know that I'm not okay living like this and neither is Delila.
Mr. Blake,
I want you to be aware of some situations that have been
going on. Only because it’s in my best interest to somehow have them
documented.
On 10/20/2015 I picked up Delila, after work at Debbie Baker’s
house. I had called Delila to tell her that I was on my way and would be there
shortly. When I arrived, Don was there so I stayed in my vehicle and honked for
Delila. Don then told Delila that if I came there again and honked he would
punch me in the face.
Yesterday, on 10/28/2015, I picked up Delila from Debbie
Baker’s house after work. Both Don and Debbie are harassing me with texts,
phone calls, voicemails, and emails regarding paying her $10 per day to pick up
Delila on my days. I used the Wizard to tell Don that I would pay his mom $10 a
week since I know personally when I drive 45 minutes to and from her school, it
doesn’t take $10 per day and Debbie Baker lives closer to the school then I do.
Yesterday before I picked up Delila, I stopped and got
Debbie a $25 gas card. When I got there, Debbie followed Delila out to the
vehicle; Delila handed her the envelope with the gas card in it and got in the
car and shut the door. Debbie opened the envelope, then proceeded to open my
car door and yell at me about how she wants $40 and I only gave her $25. I repeatedly
asked her to close my car door as I had somewhere to be. She refused and
continued to yell at me and demanding more money. I kept asking her to close
the door, and because Delila sat in the car and Debbie was yelling at me with
Delila between us, Delila was trying to push her away and was also asking her
to go away and close the door. I pumped the brake so the car moved slightly but
not from position, which further angered Debbie. She then leaned into my car,
pointing her finger at me, leaning over Delila, and continued to yell at
me. Both Delila and I continued to ask her to close the door. After 15 minutes,
I was finally able to leave.
Debbie has also been contacting my extended family via
Facebook trying to involve them and requesting that they tell me what and when
to pay her.
Don then text me last night and told me his mom would no
longer pick Delila up from school on the days I work and can’t pick up from
school. Then he text Delila to tell her that Debbie would pick her up if she
needed; causing unnecessary confusion. Don, Debbie, and Don’s girlfriend Liz (who
recently moved out again and left him but again moved back in), proceeded to
call and text Delila all night but she didn’t want to speak to any of them and
as of this morning expresses that she doesn’t want to go over there. Which is okay
until his visitation starts tomorrow and then she will go. Last night I did use
the Wizard and let Don know that Delila did have her phone and was okay but
didn’t want to speak.
I feel like when I talk about it, I become a victim to people and that they pity me. I don't like that. I also feel quite weak and whiny for talking about it. A common phrase from others is, "I don't know how you do it", my response is always, "What other choice do I have?" Life can be challenging, but when people are continually standing behind you, telling you or your child how worthless you are and making up complete lies about you, you begin to wonder what's the best way out of the situation.
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