It's been a while since I last posted, but I left off talking about how I made a quick decision that didn't turn out so well.
I had been going to the local technical college to get some of my basic core credits done, but I knew they didn't offer the degree I wanted, so I had always planned to eventually transfer to the state university. I had completed all the classes I could that would transfer over, and applied and was accepted to the state university. I started off commuting every day, but it was an hour drive and I stupidly signed up for an 8am class.
So all of a sudden I decided it would be a good idea to up and move an hour away to be closer to school, even though I knew no one in the city and would be leaving behind all my friends and family and Bub's dad.
I found an apartment that I could afford and moved in without really researching the area first. It was terrible. Someone tried to break into my car. There were always huge groups of guys standing in the breezeway in front of my door smoking weed and drinking at 1am when I would finally get home from work and I had to carry my 1 year old son through the crowd just to get to my door. Bubs always slept in the bed with me and our bed was against the wall that had the window. One night someone broke the window and it came crashing in on the bed with me and Bubs.
I wasn't getting any sleep. I couldn't concentrate on any of my school work and I was failing most of my classes. I hadn't met any other students who I could be friends with. There didn't seem to be many students like me there. They were all young carefree college kids, and I on the other hand was living on my own, paying my own way, working full time and was a single mother. I felt completely alone.
And so I started talking to my ex's mother. She agreed that I could move in with them so that I could have help with Bubs and get back to a safe neighborhood, because I didn't have enough money just laying around to pay another deposit on a new rental place. As soon as I moved in, my ex moved out. It was a little awkward having your ex girlfriend living with you, I'm sure, even if she is the mother of your child. Once I moved I slowly stopped going to school. The commute was too much, I hated being away from Bubs, it was too difficult to arrange babysitting now that he wasn't in daycare. And I still haven't gone back. I doubt I ever will now.
I lived with my ex's family for a few months until I go my tax returns and could afford to move, and I moved into a trailer about a mile down the road. One direction was a mile away from my ex's family, the other direction was about a mile away from my ex and his roommate. The landlords were crazy, but the location was perfect for me.
We still live in the same town. I'm not crazy about it, but it's home now. It's such a small town, truly a 1 stop light town, although we do also have a flashing light. I decided to stay close to family, and that means living in this small town that is slowly growing on me. God I can't believe I just said that, my husband's never going to let me live that down now.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
#9 The Devil Strikes Again
I'd settled into a comfortable rhythm. I was working, going to school, and taking care of my son. I was starting to feel like my life was on a good track. But as always, once my life started to look up, my father had to rear his big ugly head and try to derail things again.
One day I was leaving my college computer class, and I saw him. My father. Standing right outside the classroom door. Waiting for me. As soon as I saw him, I darted back into the classroom. I immediately started crying. I couldn't breathe. My heart was pounding. I thought I was having a heart attack. Turns out it was just a panic attack, but it felt so terrible.
When the teacher saw me, she came to see what was wrong. I told her between gasping breaths that my biological father was outside waiting for me, and that he had molested me for years. She tried to calm me, and told me she would see if he was gone yet. She looked and he was still there.
I collapsed to the floor in a big heaping mess. I felt like he would never go away. He'd never go away from that classroom door, and he'd never go away from me and my life.
I forgot to mention in my last post that when my son was born, on the day I was leaving the hospital, he called me. He had found out from my grandmother, who had found out from my mother, that I'd had the baby. I was just about to leave, my boyfriend was loading the car. I had a panic attack and had to stay at the hospital an extra 2 hours to calm myself down. And then when Bubs was a few weeks old, he contacted me via email, saying that he wanted to see his grandson, and that if I wouldn't let him come see him, he guessed he would just have to come take him. As in, kidnap him. Yeah, not the best way to convince someone to let you meet their kid, dirtbag.
Anyway, after about 15 minutes of me hyperventilating, my father finally left. My teacher walked me down to the campus security office. I talked with such a nice security guard. I told her what my father had done to me. I gave her all his information, she determined that he had once been a student at the university, but it was 3 years prior, and that he had already been warned once a few weeks ago about trespassing. Trespassing, I believe, in an attempt to find me. She said she would look into getting some sort of punishment for his trespassing, but that I should consider getting a restraining order. And I decided right then and there that was what I needed to do. She offered to drive me to the court house right then to help me figure out what I needed to do. She made sure I was able to get off the campus without running into my father. She was such an amazing friend to me, and we had just met an hour ago. I filed the paperwork and soon got a court date for the restraining order.
When it came time for court, the security guard informed me that she and my teacher would both be attending, and that the college was pressing charges of their own for trespassing.
It was a very difficult day. It was hard to keep calm in the same room with that man, and he was only 8 feet away from me. I cried, I could hardly talk, but I made it through. I told the judge everything he had done to me.
And the restraining order was granted. And not just for me, but he was also ordered to stay away from my son. I felt like a weight had been lifted. I felt safe. And I felt proud of myself for standing up for myself, doing what I needed to do to keep him away from me, and no longer being his victim.
He was not a father to me. He did not treat me the way a daughter should be treated by their parent. He was a pervert, a predator, a manipulator, a liar, and a coward. But I was not his victim any longer. I was a survivor. I was stronger because of what he put me through. I wasn't going to ever just deal with it anymore. I wasn't going to take living my life in fear. I was moving forward. I had big plans, plans that I wasn't going to let him keep me from. I didn't want to be afraid to go after the things I wanted for fear that he would be there waiting for me just around the corner. And so, poof, he was gone. Legally bound to stay the hell away from me.
And my life settled back down for a few months. I continued school. I quit my job and quickly got a new one, a better paying one, as a waitress at a middle class restaurant. But all in all, it was pretty uneventful for a few months, and I liked it that way.
But once things got comfortable, the bipolar started coming out. And in a manic state I made a hasty decision that sounded good at the time, but of course wasn't for the best. Tell you all about that another night.
One day I was leaving my college computer class, and I saw him. My father. Standing right outside the classroom door. Waiting for me. As soon as I saw him, I darted back into the classroom. I immediately started crying. I couldn't breathe. My heart was pounding. I thought I was having a heart attack. Turns out it was just a panic attack, but it felt so terrible.
When the teacher saw me, she came to see what was wrong. I told her between gasping breaths that my biological father was outside waiting for me, and that he had molested me for years. She tried to calm me, and told me she would see if he was gone yet. She looked and he was still there.
I collapsed to the floor in a big heaping mess. I felt like he would never go away. He'd never go away from that classroom door, and he'd never go away from me and my life.
I forgot to mention in my last post that when my son was born, on the day I was leaving the hospital, he called me. He had found out from my grandmother, who had found out from my mother, that I'd had the baby. I was just about to leave, my boyfriend was loading the car. I had a panic attack and had to stay at the hospital an extra 2 hours to calm myself down. And then when Bubs was a few weeks old, he contacted me via email, saying that he wanted to see his grandson, and that if I wouldn't let him come see him, he guessed he would just have to come take him. As in, kidnap him. Yeah, not the best way to convince someone to let you meet their kid, dirtbag.
Anyway, after about 15 minutes of me hyperventilating, my father finally left. My teacher walked me down to the campus security office. I talked with such a nice security guard. I told her what my father had done to me. I gave her all his information, she determined that he had once been a student at the university, but it was 3 years prior, and that he had already been warned once a few weeks ago about trespassing. Trespassing, I believe, in an attempt to find me. She said she would look into getting some sort of punishment for his trespassing, but that I should consider getting a restraining order. And I decided right then and there that was what I needed to do. She offered to drive me to the court house right then to help me figure out what I needed to do. She made sure I was able to get off the campus without running into my father. She was such an amazing friend to me, and we had just met an hour ago. I filed the paperwork and soon got a court date for the restraining order.
When it came time for court, the security guard informed me that she and my teacher would both be attending, and that the college was pressing charges of their own for trespassing.
It was a very difficult day. It was hard to keep calm in the same room with that man, and he was only 8 feet away from me. I cried, I could hardly talk, but I made it through. I told the judge everything he had done to me.
And the restraining order was granted. And not just for me, but he was also ordered to stay away from my son. I felt like a weight had been lifted. I felt safe. And I felt proud of myself for standing up for myself, doing what I needed to do to keep him away from me, and no longer being his victim.
He was not a father to me. He did not treat me the way a daughter should be treated by their parent. He was a pervert, a predator, a manipulator, a liar, and a coward. But I was not his victim any longer. I was a survivor. I was stronger because of what he put me through. I wasn't going to ever just deal with it anymore. I wasn't going to take living my life in fear. I was moving forward. I had big plans, plans that I wasn't going to let him keep me from. I didn't want to be afraid to go after the things I wanted for fear that he would be there waiting for me just around the corner. And so, poof, he was gone. Legally bound to stay the hell away from me.
And my life settled back down for a few months. I continued school. I quit my job and quickly got a new one, a better paying one, as a waitress at a middle class restaurant. But all in all, it was pretty uneventful for a few months, and I liked it that way.
But once things got comfortable, the bipolar started coming out. And in a manic state I made a hasty decision that sounded good at the time, but of course wasn't for the best. Tell you all about that another night.
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