Snapped, Forensic Files or Murder, She Wrote.

I was talking with a reasonably new friend of mine.  I was sharing my story & sent him over to the blog to get some of my story.  It seems I left some of the scary stuff out.  Maybe I couldn’t write about it, or maybe I wouldn’t. I’m not sure – maybe because it seems very accusatory without any hard evidence, only circumstantial.  However, I share them for you to decide whatever you want from them.  This is what happened:

Daddy BooBoo wanted a divorce.  Two days later, on his birthday, I offered him uncontested divorce papers for him to sign.  It cost me $500. I thought it was a very nice birthday present, considering….  He was livid! He didn’t much care for my division of assets.

My attorney told me under no circumstances was I to move out of the house. We both lived in the house.  Common areas (kitchen & living room) pretty much went to whomever got there first.  I had locked him out of the master bedroom (that is another story in & of itself), so I was there & he was in the guest bedroom (which was very nice, it had been our room when his mother was still alive, so it’s not like he suffered).  If one person was in a common area, the other one usually holed up in their bedroom.

Being at a job I hated and having to go house that was no longer a home wore on me.  The verbal abuse got much worse.  There was no talking like rational adults.  He locked me out of the garage (an external building which had some of my stuff in it), the household desk with the bills & such in it, hid the extra keys to the vehicles, changed the combination on his gun safe, and anywhere else he could lock me out (even though, legally, he was not supposed to as we had a court order).  My attorney implored me not to move out.  So I didn’t. After only a few months, my daughter moved out.  She could not take the abuse; knowing she could do nothing to protect me and being a secondary target to him.

After almost a year of this constant, chronic stress & abuse of living with him, under the direction of my attorney, he called.  My lawyer told me to pack a bag and get the hell out.  Daddy BooBoo’s attorney told MY attorney that he (his atty) was surprised Daddy BooBoo had not shot me yet.  You see, his lawyer has known him for over twenty years.  He knows what DBB is like.  He knows how DBB operates.  He knows what a textbook psychopath DBB is.  He knows that DBB will spend $1,000 to get $100 he feels he is owed.  Do not mess with DBB’s money – and that is what I was doing.

By not rolling over and taking the crumbs DBB was offering me as a divorce settlement, because I was standing up for myself, because I refused to accept his abuse any more, it was costing him time, attorney’s fees, and embarassment.  When DBB’s own attorney is in fear for my life, you know it’s time to go.  I packed a bag and I got the hell out.

Here’s where it gets really scary.  A couple times I stopped by the house. DBB would come out very confrontational, “Who’s there?” kind of stuff.  Even though, all through our marriage, the door was always unlocked and people just walked in.  DBB was telling folks that I was out to get him.  No, I was out to get the F away from him! But sometimes I needed some things from the house.

One day, my daughter dropped by to get something.  She and a friend walked in.  She hollered down the hall that she was there just to grab a few items.  DBB came out into the kitchen and confronted her with a gun in his hand.  Fortunately, she had a friend with her.  She never went back.

After that, I never went there without a witness (or 3!).  One afternoon, I stopped by with a couple people in tow.  Out he came from his bedroom, with a pistol in his hand.  I just got what I needed and high tailed it out of there.

What I learned later on was that he was telling people how horrible I was.  That I was going to cause him harm; that I was a liar and a gold digger;  Just really laying it on thick to whomever would listen.  I firmly believe that he was setting the stage to kill me.  I believe he was telling everyone these horrid things about me, so that one day, he could shoot me in the house & claim either I threatened him or that he thought I was a burglar.  I honestly believe that.  Obviously I was not the only one.

I got out. I lived. I did not end up on a TV episode.

Is Today Over Yet?

My life has been waiting for today to be over.  For the past 5 years.

I was thinking about this on my way home tonight.  It was September 2011 when Daddy BooBoo sent the email. 5 freakin’ years (plus  the few years before that as it all started going down hill).  For 5 years, I keep waiting for today to be over, so time will pass and I will heal; getting on with life again.

I was doing pretty good with the divorce.  Moved back to Stone Mountain, had an income (thank you Lord & DBB), worked on the house, found a nice church.  I was doing OK.  Then my mom died.  Ho-ly Shit.  I had no idea what I was in for.  I grew up with death.  Someone has always been dying in my life: people at school, friends, grand parents.  My first memories are of my brother’s death.  Death doesn’t scare me.  It’s the only guarantee we get in life.  I knew my mother was dying.  She knew she was dying.  We made the most of the time we had left together. There are no regrets with that tumultuous relationship. She drove me nuts.  She was she and I was me.  It worked.  It worked even better once I grew up and learned about healthy boundaries.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it to anyone who will listen.  There is a weird energy between mother and daughter.  I don’t know if it is the same with all the children.  I don’t know if it is the same between fathers & their children.  But the mother’s life gave us life from the moment we were a fertilized egg. There is an energy bond between the two.  Something that you never knew was there because it has always been there; a part of your existence. Like your intestines – always there; but when it isn’t, the shit hits the fan! (sorry, I couldn’t resist). Really, when the mother dies, that energy is gone and you’re left there, standing alone, not knowing what the hell just happened.  You know the mom is dead. Ok, that sucks; grief, tears, anger – whatever. But your existence as you knew it has changed.

Which makes me wonder if that is why moms are so devastated when the child dies. Obviously it is a violation of nature, but again; that energy connection has been broken.

Am I as all over the page as I seem? That is how my life is.  When this day is over, maybe tomorrow will be better.

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