The hardest days

Since this whole thing happened, the worst days have been the kids birthdays.
I find myself thinking about them all day, wondering if they have received whatever I bought them over Amazon.  Tabber's Birthday, (Thomas' Nickname) comes on Wednesday and I have not yet bought him anything.  It hurts in a way I cannot even describe.

Mother's Day is the next worse, just because we always had rough days on Mother's Day, and I don't think I fully appreciated the time with my children then, just because they were so challenging with the accused always being so sick.  (He usually spent both Mother's Day and Father's Day in bed the entire day.  Like, from sunrise to sunset, not just sleeping in.  His parents would have a barbeque for him, his older brother and his father every year.  The last year I remember I took off without him as he was too busy on the computer to bother getting up.

All holidays are excruciating.  I always have to find some sort of distraction so that I don't try to find them.  They were my world, they were the whole reason I went back to work and the reason that I am trying so hard to keep their father locked up: (From the literature I've read it was pretty clear he was grooming my Tabbers for the same fate as my daughter.)

I always think to myself, is this really better than quietly divorcing and not saying a word?  Is this really better than never handing him over to the Police?  And again and again, I decide that my daughter's safety, and in turn the safety of my little men, is more important than my ability to see them.

I will stand by, steadfastly the decisions I have made.  I won't give up, I won't give in, I can't.  I think of my daughter and the individuals that have come into my life since this happened that thanked me for believing my daughter, and thanked me for doing the right thing.  I think of the fucked up scars on their arms, the far away looks in their eyes, their tears, their view of the world and how fucked up it is... and I think, if these folks would have been able to tell their parents, or in turn if their parents had believed them, maybe they would have had a chance at repairing their relationships with them, and in turn with themselves.

And if I have to sacrifice for others to be safe, to put my own little dent in the problem of child sexual abuse, then I did good.  I wasn't the best Mom, I did the best I could.  I've always done my best.  Turns out, I seem to associate better with computers and completely "crazy" individuals; people who have been through trauma, people who have been "broken" by their circumstances, or by shitty people being shitty to them.  Do I feel like a kindred spirit?  Sometimes.  Sometimes I feel like the light at the end of a long tunnel and that for once, for these folks, that light is not a train.
Sometimes, I feel like I'm a kick in the ass, and the vast majority of the time I feel I am not much help at all.  I do the best within the confines of my life.

The best I can hope for it to spread a little light and let folks know they aren't alone.  If you were told by your kid that someone is molesting them, ACT IMMEDIATELY.  If you suspect anything, act immediately.  Do not wait.  Do not try to gather evidence.  That's what the police are for.  That's what CPS is for.  That's their job, not yours.  This lesson, was a very painful and very costly one for me and my broken family.

I will, more likely than not, not see my sons again until they hit 18 years old.  I've already missed the better part of 2 years.  I used to get pictures at least and I don't even get that anymore.  I'm a shadow in their lives, and as time goes on, I will continue to be.

I will not let this silence me.  I am not a victim, I am a survivor.  I am not perfect, I am scarred but I keep getting up each day, I keep moving forward.  I will keep writing and no one will stop me.  The truth will be known.

Except on my kids birthdays.  Then I collapse under my own weight.  I die another quiet death.  

They think I am not worth having in my kids lives.  Plain and simple.  It's not because of what I do not know but what I do know.  The truth is only shunned by those living a lie, and they are living a LIE.  They are the victims here.  I feel terrible for their loss, but they refuse to see the truth that is right in front of them.

At least my daughter and I know the truth.  That way we can deal with it.  We can move through it and past it, and address it, and make the pain subside.  It's like if you have an infection and you don't know where it is in your body... your whole body suffers, until someone, be it a doctor, nurse or practitioner of some kind, finds the source of the discomfort, then attacks the infection.  
If you can't locate the infection, you can't attack it, and you just feel worse and worse; a generalized catatonia.  Chills, shakes, fevers, vomiting...

Only in this case it's fears, shaken faith, anger and regurgitating lies.  They don't know what they are doing, they are being manipulated by a socio path.  To them, he is their dear, loving, innocent, sweet and sickly child.

My psychologist has imparted to me that the accused seizures were largely psychosomatic in his opinion, meaning they were caused by a stimulation and almost entirely self brought on; an act of a socio path.

He refuses to believe that he did anything to hurt my daughter, even after he himself confessed to the crime, after facing my daughter who had the bravery to tell him, and everyone in the court room, exactly what he had done to her, these are the acts of a socio path.

In every story in his history where he got in trouble, there could be a version where he was actually guilty of the act he committed, but his parents always bailed him out.  Because he's autistic, or epileptic... but but, he's SICK.  This is the upbringing of a socio path.  I bought it.  I drank that kool-aid.  Thus the case in 2009.

I'm autistic too, I'm no child rapist.  If ever I committed wrong doing, I fessed up and I took responsibility for my actions.  I didn't lie, or cover up, or bend the truth.  When I did wrong, my parents punished me and made me accountable. Often times I would feel so guilty I would fess up on my own.

By my observations of being married to the man, bending the truth to make things look better was the norm; and he expects others to just fall for it.  He is such a convincing liar because he lies to himself.  I do not hold a degree in Psychology, but those are the actions of a socio path.  My Psychologist IS trained however, and has told me during virtually every session that my ex husband was a socio path from his observations.

I lost my children because of this man and because I believed him.  Hook, line and sinker.  It makes me sick.  Now his parents, who could quite possibly be the cause of his delusion are raising my sons.  Hopefully not to be just like him.

I can only hope.  I can do nothing else and hope that they snap out of the spell their son has woven for them.