I told you in the beginning that there would be times when you would ask questions, "How could she? Why did she? How come she did not.....?" Some of you may dislike me already, some of you will dislike me (more)by the end of this post...I promise, you cannot dislike me more than I disliked myself. You can freely insert words like loathe, hate, distain...for those are all words I felt, and sometimes still feel.
Everything was suddenly no longer even okay. Daughter #2's, "not so good" was turning into "Really not so good" while Satori plunged straight from "apparently on the road to success everyone's dream girl" straight fast forward to, "everything is REALLY bad."
I didn't know the cause (which implies that I at some future point learned the cause, which I did, but of course not THE cause which we can debate about forever and refer back to those negative adjectives I had for myself). She went from bright student, to high school drop-out, promising athlete to what? Something for which I have no name. She was sneaking out at night, disappearing for days, surly, unkind. People urged me to lock her out, tough love they said. Did they know, as I knew, that IPD would find, arrest and charge you for such actions? Did they ever really confront what happens to a mother's heart? Or worse, what might have happened to a daughter while locked out?
Slowly, the cause (with a small c, eh?) revealed itself. We shall call him, VEB - for Very Evil Boy. I would like to tell you his name, I would. I would like to pray that if I told his name, there would be some cowboy out there, some gunslinger, sharp shooter who would bring justice. But I cannot.
There is evil. I used to not believe that. I believed that we created our own evil, that with enough light and love, what we thought evil would disappear. I believed that as we evolved as a people, as a culture, evil would stop being created. I believe that there is only good. Part of me still believes that; or struggles to believe it. I was wrong. I cannot make this jive with my belief system, I cannot make it harmonize in my heart. I no longer hate (so much), but I acknowledge and give evil the respect tis due.
Rumor says that VEB was a drug-runner, I believe it. Rumor says that VEB was an informant; I believe it. VEB was arrested numorous times, sometimes for very serious offenses; I know it. He was never held. He was never charged. Not rumor, but FACT says that VEB tried to murder his mother, using stabbing, drowning and who knows what else, and that mother loved him all the same and welcomed him home when she was released from the hospital. I couldn't even lock my daughter out of our home; I tried to forgive his mother. After all, she must also have seen perfection when the most beautiful child ever to be born was placed in her arms.
Daughter is now out of school, running wild. I don't know this child. She comes home bloody and bruised. I plead, I cry, I pray. I listen to phone calls, I search her things, I talk to everyone, and I do mean everyone. One day, I learn that VEB has been placed on house arrest. That means he doesn't get out and no one gets in. That's what it means. So, I followed her. I did, I followed my own daughter and watched his mother let her in. I phoned the police. I reasoned, that police arrive, see the forbidden guest and VEB goes to jail. Police arrive. Sitting in my car, I watch mother escort son out the backdoor. I watch lights go on in the house and I watch police leave, empty handed. I find out later that mother hid my daughter. What shall I do? I play this and many other scenes over again in my mind; what should have been done?
I send husband to talk with Mother. Daughter will tell me many years later that Husband instead appeared to be using the discussion as an opportunity to "hit" on mother and that nothing was accomplished. Husband is not quite yet Ex-husband, but I am figuring it out. The days go on and continue to become more and more and more not okay; in fact, they become downright frightening. She appears again and again with bloody face, bruises and she will not hear reason. I am wishing that we were wealthy, that I could have her kidnapped, taken to some monastary, healed. I keep remembering her face, that perfect face moments after her birth. How can this be happening? How can a man's fist be raised to that perfection? Does she not know her own perfection?
One evening I followed and arrived just in time to witness the beginning of what would have been more bruises, more blood. I do not know how I did it, god help me, I do not know how I got her to the car. And we drove...we drove. Some might say that I was insane; perhaps I was. When I saw the neon lights at an adult store , the insane idea captured me. I made her go in with me (figure this out, no one asked for her I.D. and no one in that place seemed to find it strange either, mother and daughter together in that place). There, I purchased a set of leg irons. Yes, I really did. I still don't know how I got her home. Honestly, I don't remember. But once home, I chained my daughter to the bathroom sink. I really did. I made her dinner, I sat it in the sink, I left her a pillow and a blanket, a stool (another one goofy, I'm only half crazy, ok?) and I told her that one of us needed to think.
I paced. I tried to think. She was quiet for a long time and eventually began screaming. "This is child abuse, I will see you in jail." Oh. That's the first moment such had occured to me. Dear God. I have chained my daughter to the bathroom sink. Perhaps my next move wasn't the brightest move I ever made (has anything I've done to this point been bright?) I called the police. In walks all seven feet of him. "Do you hear that child hollering in the bathroom? I have chained her to the bathroom sink." His face does this, "uh duh, what do I do now" thing. And then, I said the name, "VEB." And he knew. He grew silent. He hung his head. And eventually, in answer to my quiet, "is this child abuse?" He answered, "I won't write it up like that even if it is but, Ma'am? Ma'am? Eventually you have to let her loose." Ummm. I hadn't thought about that. And he left. Just left. And I unlocked the chain. And the night fell silent.
It may please you to know that in the years since, there have been times when we all have laughted about this incident. Nothing stays the same. Things heal; or at least move on and eventually, we moved on. Satori figured it out (or started to) and made attempts to leave VEB. He stalked, he threatened, he punished her. There is more that I'm not telling. Some I will tell later. And for now, again, I will leave you for a bit.
I rather doubt that anyone reads my very long stories. And for this moment, I leave you more for breath than for anything else. I leave you because if you haven't stopped reading by now; you should. Go hang with your children, make a dollie, watch funny television, bake a cake. Nothing stays the same, and this too shall pass.
~lee
Everything was suddenly no longer even okay. Daughter #2's, "not so good" was turning into "Really not so good" while Satori plunged straight from "apparently on the road to success everyone's dream girl" straight fast forward to, "everything is REALLY bad."
I didn't know the cause (which implies that I at some future point learned the cause, which I did, but of course not THE cause which we can debate about forever and refer back to those negative adjectives I had for myself). She went from bright student, to high school drop-out, promising athlete to what? Something for which I have no name. She was sneaking out at night, disappearing for days, surly, unkind. People urged me to lock her out, tough love they said. Did they know, as I knew, that IPD would find, arrest and charge you for such actions? Did they ever really confront what happens to a mother's heart? Or worse, what might have happened to a daughter while locked out?
Slowly, the cause (with a small c, eh?) revealed itself. We shall call him, VEB - for Very Evil Boy. I would like to tell you his name, I would. I would like to pray that if I told his name, there would be some cowboy out there, some gunslinger, sharp shooter who would bring justice. But I cannot.
There is evil. I used to not believe that. I believed that we created our own evil, that with enough light and love, what we thought evil would disappear. I believed that as we evolved as a people, as a culture, evil would stop being created. I believe that there is only good. Part of me still believes that; or struggles to believe it. I was wrong. I cannot make this jive with my belief system, I cannot make it harmonize in my heart. I no longer hate (so much), but I acknowledge and give evil the respect tis due.
Rumor says that VEB was a drug-runner, I believe it. Rumor says that VEB was an informant; I believe it. VEB was arrested numorous times, sometimes for very serious offenses; I know it. He was never held. He was never charged. Not rumor, but FACT says that VEB tried to murder his mother, using stabbing, drowning and who knows what else, and that mother loved him all the same and welcomed him home when she was released from the hospital. I couldn't even lock my daughter out of our home; I tried to forgive his mother. After all, she must also have seen perfection when the most beautiful child ever to be born was placed in her arms.
Daughter is now out of school, running wild. I don't know this child. She comes home bloody and bruised. I plead, I cry, I pray. I listen to phone calls, I search her things, I talk to everyone, and I do mean everyone. One day, I learn that VEB has been placed on house arrest. That means he doesn't get out and no one gets in. That's what it means. So, I followed her. I did, I followed my own daughter and watched his mother let her in. I phoned the police. I reasoned, that police arrive, see the forbidden guest and VEB goes to jail. Police arrive. Sitting in my car, I watch mother escort son out the backdoor. I watch lights go on in the house and I watch police leave, empty handed. I find out later that mother hid my daughter. What shall I do? I play this and many other scenes over again in my mind; what should have been done?
I send husband to talk with Mother. Daughter will tell me many years later that Husband instead appeared to be using the discussion as an opportunity to "hit" on mother and that nothing was accomplished. Husband is not quite yet Ex-husband, but I am figuring it out. The days go on and continue to become more and more and more not okay; in fact, they become downright frightening. She appears again and again with bloody face, bruises and she will not hear reason. I am wishing that we were wealthy, that I could have her kidnapped, taken to some monastary, healed. I keep remembering her face, that perfect face moments after her birth. How can this be happening? How can a man's fist be raised to that perfection? Does she not know her own perfection?
One evening I followed and arrived just in time to witness the beginning of what would have been more bruises, more blood. I do not know how I did it, god help me, I do not know how I got her to the car. And we drove...we drove. Some might say that I was insane; perhaps I was. When I saw the neon lights at an adult store , the insane idea captured me. I made her go in with me (figure this out, no one asked for her I.D. and no one in that place seemed to find it strange either, mother and daughter together in that place). There, I purchased a set of leg irons. Yes, I really did. I still don't know how I got her home. Honestly, I don't remember. But once home, I chained my daughter to the bathroom sink. I really did. I made her dinner, I sat it in the sink, I left her a pillow and a blanket, a stool (another one goofy, I'm only half crazy, ok?) and I told her that one of us needed to think.
I paced. I tried to think. She was quiet for a long time and eventually began screaming. "This is child abuse, I will see you in jail." Oh. That's the first moment such had occured to me. Dear God. I have chained my daughter to the bathroom sink. Perhaps my next move wasn't the brightest move I ever made (has anything I've done to this point been bright?) I called the police. In walks all seven feet of him. "Do you hear that child hollering in the bathroom? I have chained her to the bathroom sink." His face does this, "uh duh, what do I do now" thing. And then, I said the name, "VEB." And he knew. He grew silent. He hung his head. And eventually, in answer to my quiet, "is this child abuse?" He answered, "I won't write it up like that even if it is but, Ma'am? Ma'am? Eventually you have to let her loose." Ummm. I hadn't thought about that. And he left. Just left. And I unlocked the chain. And the night fell silent.
It may please you to know that in the years since, there have been times when we all have laughted about this incident. Nothing stays the same. Things heal; or at least move on and eventually, we moved on. Satori figured it out (or started to) and made attempts to leave VEB. He stalked, he threatened, he punished her. There is more that I'm not telling. Some I will tell later. And for now, again, I will leave you for a bit.
I rather doubt that anyone reads my very long stories. And for this moment, I leave you more for breath than for anything else. I leave you because if you haven't stopped reading by now; you should. Go hang with your children, make a dollie, watch funny television, bake a cake. Nothing stays the same, and this too shall pass.
~lee
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