Saturday, May 30, 2009

What was slipping away...

I replay what happened; sometimes the memory pops into my vision and plays involuntarily, sometimes I choose to review it.

I am drawn to recall a certain moment again and again. There was so much that happened in that moment; so much that could have possibly changed the outcome, for better or worse. That moment still looms like a suspended bubble in my mind, yet that moment is what actually brought the anvil down. It changed everything for me; or maybe it didn't. I will never know, because it happened so fast.
But I guess it might have gone differently if, in that split second, a different decision had been made. I guess I might have been able to forgive. And I wonder then if that would have been the right thing to do as well...because I would have been waiting for the next time.

He had me in a headlock, he was hurting me and scaring me, and I was screaming for help and fighting desperately to get away.
His sister wouldn't help, and I was feeling more was as if she was waiting for something else to happen.
In that moment that he decided to let go, or I wrenched free (I will never know), in that moment that it took me to swing around and launch a pathetic smack at him, in the moment it took me to try and defend myself by telling him to NEVER DO THAT TO ME AGAIN, EVER, and in that moment that I then ran for the door to run away, and then.... that moment that he then took me down again, harder this time and more angrily, while charging himself with the crime of not having done this to me sooner..... that moment where he then folded me to the floor like a straw... that moment that he heard me lose air and my voice....

...choices were made.

A conscious choice was made it again.
It might have gone differently.
Perhaps not, as it happened so fast. But I wonder.

In that moment, all that was difficult between us then became impossible.
What was worth saving, became no longer worth the risk.
What was once speculative, then became in-my-face-true.
What was somewhat scary, then became terrifying.

What was slipping away, fell like a stone.

He made a choice, in a split second.
He made it twice.

I have choices about my future. I get to make choices about my boundaries and I need to make choices for my safety. I get to decide these things.

Now if only I could get someone else's head out of his [expletive removed] faraway planet, we would all be moving forward, really. Not just pretending.

Friday, May 29, 2009

How Far is Too Far?

I guess I cannot say that I am surprised.

I mean, I suppose it's somewhat expected that he may have decided what boundaries are acceptable for me - boundaries are only to be set by him - and I guess he decided that he will live next door to me, in the other house on this property, 20 yards away.

It doesn't really surprise me that he would assume that I would be fine living next door to him - the person who hurt me, choked me to the ground, and then justified it. Really, it doesn't. There have been many serious requests I have made about boundaries that have gone ignored over the years.

But I guess it does surprise me that, even after a judge told him he may not be near me or live here for three years, he put down his contact address for the my address.

I guess it is not very shocking that he would refuse to move, after not paying a cent in rent for nearly two months. But it is rather shocking that he would refuse to move after being ordered to stay away from me.
He isn't living here, he can't live here, but lists this as his address.
He isn't living here, yet refuses to move his things out.
I have been told to move them myself, but it is slightly more complicated - I am not trying to be unkind, but am running out of patience.
Also? He is a packrat, and the moving of his things is more than my delicate constitution can handle.

But, he would like everyone to know that he is 'doing everything possible to become a family again'.

Even against my will. For my will is, apparently, insignificant in his equation.

He is their father; he is not my partner.

The line was crossed. He took it too far. I do not wish to retrace those steps, ever.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Super-Spider-Bat-Man Hero Boy

My boy has been obsessed with superheroes lately.

He works through the good vs. evil; the right vs. wrong every day now in his play. This is sudden, and fierce, and awesome.
(And, considering the circumstances, highly appropriate!)

He is serious about this stuff.

If a costume isn't handy, then a thrift store superhero superfind will do....

(Emo-Batmanesque pose....hopefully someday soon I teach him that superheroes love to fold laundry)


You save me?


Everyone should have a resident superhero.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Hello, California Legal System??

I would like to mention this little detail about restraining and stay-away orders....

He knows where I am. He knows.

But do I know where he is?
No, I do not.

Has he volunteered this information, in the interest of answering the questions? Or in the interest of goodwill?

No, he has not.

UPDATE 9/23/09: Did he use the information he got from this post to try and keep his address from me for months? Yes, he did. I am leaving it up. Be forewarned.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Definitely NOT Talkin 'bout The Yellow Brick Road When I say 'Path'

This has been difficult, I won't lie to you.

My children have questions. Of course they do, they are teh frackin' brilliant.
I try not to answer anything more than they ask.

Supergirl knows a little bit (who am I fooling?) probably a good deal of what happened; she also decided that there is a difference between hurting someone deliberately or accidentally. She knows that sometimes, when something violent occurs, the adults involved don't always get to make the decisions about what happens in the immediate future.
She knows that she is sad, and she knows that she is happy. She seems more able to articulate her feelings to me; she is clear about her needs, if not always direct in her approach to making them known, her behavior is (she is, after all, seven). She claims that there is less yelling, and that her mornings are easier in the daily prep and rush to school.
She needs many snuggles.

Bubbles processes it in other ways. He has asked "Where Daddy is now?" And I always reply that he is with friends. That satisfies him. He wakes up at least twice a week (down from four) with a night terror; he is not quite awake for 10-15 minutes, usually is whaling on me, screaming, "I hurt you, I break-a your arm!" then wakes up a bit and continues to be aggressive until I am able to calm him down, anywhere from another 15 to 45 minutes.

We are in therapy.
Yes, thank you for asking, we are.
I need help with my babies; I need help with all of this. I need to be able to help my children, so as a family, we are trying to stay focused on healing and moving forward, and I will let the professionals help with the processing of past events.

This is all a new path for us.

New for all of us.

It's not a very straightforward path, either.

Thank you for your help and your wishes - they are all worth gold.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

What Happened?

I take a risk in not hiding. But the internet has held me up, and I owe you my truth.

We were fighting.
Verbally fighting.

I could tell you the gory details of what it was about, but the more I look at it, the less relevant it becomes. I will not subjectively share our disputes with the world. I will, however, tell only the facts.
In a nutshell, there was a fight about my work hours and the issue of someone perhaps needing to work more hours than he was working.
In a nutshell, the SIL threw a little tantrum about leaving early b/c we were fighting. Fair enough if it is all kept to adults. But it wasn't, and Supergirl was distressed about this (untrue) news. I finally told the SIL to stop fucking with my kid's emotions and feel free to leave or not, as she was an adult. But make a choice.

Apparently this combination of arguing and taking a stand had an effect on the SIL that rendered her a traitor to all womankind helpless.

The verbal argument degraded.
There was shouting. There were swear words. There was shouting over one another, there was not listening.
I removed myself from the argument; from the unsolvable situation.
I walked away from them.

There was a physical rush. He and his sister rushed me. He grabbed me from behind, crossing my arms behind my back and pulling them up towards my neck.

She then yelled, "You want to fight? GO ON, FIGHT!!"

(remember the ovarian cysts? well, not exactly hormonally imbalanced, as the bloodwork results clearly showed...but nice to know any physical ailment will be held against me!)

Bubbles came into the scene right about here.


And Auntie watched. Watched Bubbles watch. Didn't call 911.


"CALL 911!!"

The shouting went on in my ear. The screaming went on out of my mouth. Finally he released me or I broke away- I am not sure - and I spun around in flailing mode, hand outstretched and caught him on the chin and barely the left cheek.
"Don't you EVER EVER restrain me AGAIN!!" I screamed at him. I bolted for the door and the children.
Then I was tackled.
"SOMEONE SHOULD HAVE DONE THIS TO YOU A LONG TIME AGO" he screamed in my ear. Then he folded my arms behind my back again but higher.
He put me in full nelson.
Then folded my chin into my chest, doubling me forward towards the tile floor.
I didn't know until then that you could choke someone without putting your hands around their neck.
"I CANNOT BREAAAATHE!!!!!!!!" I shouted to his sister, the phone was right next to her and I didn't see her move.

"I CAN NOt breathe..."
I said but I had no voice left and she picked up my son and left with him. Without the phone.

I didn't know if she was finally getting it that my son should not be involved or that she was removing him from witnessing something worse. He wasn't letting go and she finally took him out...I was pretty sure that was...the end.

He dropped me on the floor and stomped away. When I could get up, I ran for the children and packed them into the car.
We fled from the crazy.

Then I called the police. They called back to interview me a while later, but my children were traumatized from the event so I asked if I could come to the station myself to give the statement without them.
It was late; they suggested I come the next morning if I was in a safe place.

That morning I received an email from him, saying that he and his sister had packed a bag for the kids and me and had stashed it at the top of the driveway for me to retrieve. I told him he needed to leave.
He said he needed to off himself. With a bullet.
I had heard this too many times before.

On that Easter morning I gave my statement in a too-bright room to a very nice cop dude.
I cried a lot.
I took off my shirt and stood in a tank top against a white board so he could photograph the bruises on my arms.

I have heard he feels terrible. He 'knows' it is wrong to physically dominate someone, BUT he was 'only trying to get me to stop'.
There is always, a 'but' involved in his mea culpa.

As my firefighter friend says, "There is only one way to get someone to stop yelling, and that is to choke them to death."

We are okay. We have a lot of support, and we are all going to be okay. Even he will be, someday.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Thank You, Internet

While some may say this is wrong - this sharing, this writing, this blog - I have to say that I feel part of one amazingly strong community.
I am beyond lucky to have such a supportive group of friends, IRL and URL.

Internet, you are saving my ass. Thank you for paying for the roof over my family's head right now.

I am without words...that alone says something.

Thank you.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Be Careful What You Don't Tell People

I feel so overwhelmingly sad right now.

I can hardly find the 'poetic' and 'cryptic' words right now (which apparently describe my writing so well) to even write about this, as my style of writing and the mere fact that I do write, were attempted to be used against me today in court.
I don't want to feel censored, but if I remain a public blog, then I am and I will be. If something I say with heartfelt meaning can be used against me in a handy little twist, then yes. I will. You would too.

But for now, I cannot allow him to take away or hurt this one thing I have left.
Our children are ours. They will always be ours.
But this blog, these words?
They are mine.
This poetic license to be cryptic and have a quirky sense of humor?
All mine.

This is my blog. This is where I can tell my truth, where I can record the awesomeness that is my children, and even record my parenting triumphs and fails.
This is where I have been able to share the 'unspeakable'; the coping with parenting loss...this blog has been what even helped to keep me sane those years of cyclical arguing.
Sometimes people even pay me astonishingly low amounts of money to write things.
I write only the truth (which, perhaps upon reflection, is why the amounts are so astonishingly low).

Today I was told by a judge, that although it is obvious that there was a battery committed against me, he (the batterer) was offered a plea bargain which allowed to plead guilty to a lesser charge of 'disturbing the peace' instead of going to trial with the original two charges of 'battery' and 'child endangerment'.
So although he admitted to battery, and admitted to child endangerment, the charge was lowered.
He still gets DV (domestic violence) terms, which means there will be some court mandated counseling and a stay-away order, a small fine.
No trial.

I guess this is standard practice for a first time offender.
I have to tell you something. If it ever happens to you? Even just a 'tiny bit'? Even if someone 'just' shakes you or threatens you and doesn't do what you consider 'physical damage'?
Report it.
Do not hesitate to report it.
That was my biggest mistake. I didn't report the first time, or the second time. There were no bruises. Just fear.

Monday, May 11, 2009

So, it's May 11th again.

So, I went to court today.

Happy Dead Baby Anniversary Day to me!!!


Nothing happened today.
Other than the fact that I had to see him.
It was shakey time.

Trial next week.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Trying So Hard to Wrap My Brain Around This...

He used all our household funds to bail himself out. He told me he had paid the rent and he had not. He told me he had paid the utilities for months: Lies.

So, he used all that money for bail and now wonders why I would do this to our family. How I could have done this.
I suppose his story starts with when I reported it.
It's all my fault the family is now broken up...because I reported it.
It's my fault that there is no money for rent...because I reported it.
He wonders how 'far I will take this'...because I reported it.

I reported it.

He hurt me, he scared me, he yelled "Someone should have done this to you a long time ago!" ...and I reported it.
I did. My son was there, he was scared. I could not breathe, I was scared.
I reported it.

In this state, the victim is often removed from the decision of whether or not to press charges, as I was. The DA's office read the police reports and decided to press charges.
Now I will be asked to tell a courtroom about the whole incident.

But apparently this all started when I reported it.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009


I will be on trial, though it is not my trial.

I will be put on the witness stand (cage), though I am not the one who is on trial.

I will have to testify. He will not. He may choose to, but the choice is not mine.

I thought I was humiliated already? Stay tuned.

Just Wondering........

Would it be inappropriate if I sent a donation to Global Giving in her name?
Perhaps one for battered women? Domestic abuse education? Educate and empower women?

Monday, May 04, 2009

Clusterfreak Which is PRIVATIZED

Had to go private again.

I know I have done nothing wrong, but the defense will try to take anything I have written and use it against me, out of context.

He's taking it to trial.

I still cannot say very much....

But yes, I have to testify.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

I just found this in my inbox....

Hi Julie!

I'm a big fan that's read your blog regularly, and thought I would pass along an iphone application I just launched that is great for parents and kids called The Animalizer.

The app is a super simple concept, easy to use, and viral- You pick a funny animal and replace the face with yours or one of your friend's, add text, and then share. Guaranteed to make you all laugh (example below).

The app has been out about 15 days now and has received great responses, and we have been mentioned on a bunch of pop-culture websites, kids sites and tech

Thanks so much for your time!

Ben Kahle

I replied with:

Dear Bob;

I know you're a HUGE fan of my Julie's blog, and I hate to let you down, but I think you must have confused me with someone named Julie. Or perhaps you confused me with someone who has a iphone (donations accepted). Or with someone who isn't entirely creeped out by Suri Cruise morphed with a raccoon. Or a marmot. Or whatever that asparagus-pawed misguided Anne Geddes style creature is.
Or perhaps you have confused me with Jenny, The Bloggess. People do that all that time. She is the one who sends snarky replies to stupid offers like this.
She also has a far broader knowlege of animals with special needs and prosthetics. Please do not bother me again (unless you are going to send me an iphone).
Get a grip, Ben Bob.


Friday, May 01, 2009


I've done nothing wrong.

I refuse to hide.