My webpage, blog page, Apple ID, and all of my other email accounts and even utility accounts have been hacked and changed or monitored.
Why do these people want me to shut up? Because they fear what I have to say. Sucks to be them. Because I am not shutting up. I am not backing down. The Silvio’s, Brent’s, and Ryan’s of the world can go to Hell because I am not shutting up until my story is heard. So go on and hack me. Go on and steal from me. Come to my home and “haunt” me. Gas-light me if you must. Because I am strong enough to weather the storm.
I can rail at the injustice of it all. I can claim to not understand why it all happened, but at the end of the day I still know that every choice I made took me farther and farther from the path God set out for me and it took me a long time to figure that out.
I lived in fear for a long time and let it own me. I; however, now realize that, yes I made mistakes, but I can’t stop what other people do. I could never control what they think or how they conduct their lives.
I can be shocked and dismayed and even confused by their behavior and actions. The only thing I have control over is how I chose to respond and how I choose to look at it.
I believe without a doubt, that most of these monsters are sick and are low life’s with nothing better to do than to participate in a conspiracy to ruin a good person.
Why? Who knows? I believe that when people do wicked things that they themselves must hate themselves so deeply that they recognize no fear from God and believe that they operate outside the bounds of any governing morals or ethics or higher power to answer to for their actions.
Their biggest mistake is believing that everyone is just like them.
I used to laugh out loud, like some kind of lunatic when these people actually thought I would let them break me.
So, from the very beginning I called them out. Said their names out loud. Explained motive, means and opportunity. And, I’m not goingto stop until my story is heard. I will not stop until speaking my truth becomes the truth on stone. I cannot live in a world where corruption, manipulation and lies ever win this war God has chosen me to fight.
Family court corruption. Stalking. Police and Sherrif’s not doing their job with due diligence. Illegal Surveillance, gas-lighting, fraud, stolen identities and imposters. Using illegally obtained videos and pictures to publish online for their amusement and my humiliation. Breaking and entering, intentional food poisoning, car theft and the complete infiltration into someones life. All in hopes of taking it over; debasing, defaming and discrediting them.
All because they could not silence me, control me, and thought that the lies told to them by a sick narcissistic sociopath were true and I was or am some kind of villain.
Let me remind everyone; I’m here and writing for the monsters who underestimated me. All the people that thought they could say and do whatever they wanted about me and have it cripple me. Send me hiding in some hole, never to be heard from again.
I am Here! I’m not going anywhere and with God by my side they have no chance in hell.
I was angry. Angry at everything. Angry at everyone. No where to turn but my eyes up to God railing at all the injustices and asking why. The last question we should ever ask, but when I was stuck in the mire I could only ask,
Why is this happening to me? What did I EVER do to deserve this?
After the divorce in July of 2014, while living in Lakeland, FL in my mothers’ home, I survived. If I did anything; it was only survive.
Two weekends a month my mother and I would make the hour and a half drive to Sarasota to pick Lyla up under the watchful eye of my ex’s mother and sometimes aunt. Then we would rack our minds of what we could do to visit while staying out of the heat and making the most of our time together.
These are some of the moments we were able to share during this time of separation. This first picture was our first visit, the second was a luncheon and you can see by the way Lyla hangs on her big brother that she is missing being with him and the third my dear saint of a mother arranged us a Bibbity Bobbity Boop princess day for her birthday. This time was to last only for six months whereupon I could petition the courts for more time or a change in the court order.
We hired an attorney only to learn that he was making back-door deals with Brian’s lawyer that would support Brian’s family and attorney and their agenda instead of mine or what was best for Lyla. We ended up firing him, of course. He was a complete failure. A total let down and another traumatic event that left me feeling hopeless.
The time ticked on and the weekends kept coming and the days kept ending. My mother and I would drive six hours a day to visit with Lyla for seven hours. We wanted to make sure Lyla still knew she had another family, so we would ask to take Lyla out of Sarasota county if only to make sure Lyla remembered her other home, her other family. We would get my cousins kids and Lyla together, we would have Christmas on days where we could have Lyla. We would try and arrange to have Lyla experience the other side of her family. It was hard. It was hard to look at her when we picked her up knowing that in a few short hours I would drop her off again and I would not be able to see her for another two weeks. It was killing me, slowly.
My ex’s and his family even denied my mother, cousin and sister from having time with Lyla. They did not want to expose Lyla to her mother outside of the designated time the court had ordered I could see her. They were afraid my family would let me see Lyla; even if that time was spent at their own home and I came over- they said no.
During this incredibly vulnerable time for me I thought;
If I could only find a lawyer to fight for me and my daughter- she suffers’ more than I.
Lyla would cry to her grandmother and cry to her father about missing me. They did not want me to know that. They would coach Lyla on what she could tell me and whenever we dropped Lyla off they would interrogate her on everything that happened that day and everyone she saw. They twisted everything around. Lyla cried when I asked her how she had scraped her knee and would not tell me how she had scraped her knee. I got so upset that she refused to tell me, that I finally looked her in her little face and said,
Why can you not tell mommy what happened? She answered, because they said I will never get to see you ever again if I tell!
Then her face scrunched up and turned red as she wailed. Can you imagine my heart break? Can you imagine my anger at not being able to protect her from their manipulations?
People took and took and took from me. Without family, people I had considered friends, a man I was quite attached too, my ex’s family all of them took from me. I kept allowing it. I had no other choice but to let it all happen. Feeling forsaken on all fronts.
I had only to renew my faith that I remembered that good people don’t go around ruining other people’s lives. But those wicked hearts and evil and lost souls that do not fear God’s wrath will take from you with nothing to ever give back in return.
And like the sweet cleansing rain He makes right the wrongs of sinners and evil doers. Foiled at every attempt to break me. God knows my heart and for me has judged me truly. He has preserved me as He has promised all His people that turn to Him and believe in Him.
I had no hope. God gave me his. I had no way out, yet He showed me the way. I was scared and He made me a way through the fear free of terror.
The fear breed in me an anger that had no outlet other than working myself into shear exhaustion by working outside. Cleaning till my fingers bled. Working on DIY projects for Lyla and my son in the garage with sweat dripping skin pinked with heat, yet I would keep going.
Only with God’s promises and reminders and grateful prayers of thinks was I able to be delivered into this life.
He smites those that attacked me. After awhile, No good has come to them. One has fled. One is no more. One is maimed and yet more are living the life of a beggar.
My blessings are great. My blessings freely given for the heart I promised to God alone. And He gave me my loves back. My children of God that He granted me the responsibility of raising. Because he knows my heart.
I did make through to the other side of all this torment. My story did not change from here. I still had more trauma to go through before I would get to this life I currently live, but I made it. Just remember- You can too.
Psalm 36 reminds me that I too have a message from God.
“heart concerning God before”
“ ” Psalm 36
My story does not get easier, but it is time to remind myself and someone else out there in the ether, that if it were not for God I would not have made it through these horrifying experiences and these hopeless times. For I was hopeless. I was fearful and I was attacked by the demons of the devil for several years. I let the devil’s worshippers grab a hold of my most dreaded fears and make them into a reality to drive me away from God.
But then in my most trying times, my worst nightmares realized; I was given a gift from God.
I kept asking “why” and in the dark of night huddled on the floor with a knife and a flashlight out of fear of what the maniacs in my life were doing to me and had me reduced to a wild fearful creature I asked Him,
“ I am sorry I am not worthy of your love; why do you not love me?”
in those small moments. He would give me His sight. He had removed Himself and His angels from me, but He would end up giving me protection through HIS wisdom and HIS sight. So the next time I faced one of the demons that had entered my life- I was given the opportunity to understand how to protect myself and expose their plots. Even if only to them and myself I was given to understand what was happening.
Even if no one believed me at that time, I believed, and soon they too thought I was too smart and shook their heads in amazement as I told them of their own plots and how they would not work. I laughed in their faces.
But in those dark moments of night when I called out to God, I did not feel alone anymore anymore. The fear slid off of my shoulders at the same time I felt a warmth of a strong shoulder rest on top and around my own. It was the words I heard in my heart in those moments that said,
“Silly, child, I would never forsake you, but it is you whom has forsaken Me.
You have turned to me now when I have removed everything and everyone for who you could turn, so that you could be reminded that I am your LIGHT and I am the only One to whom you should ever turn to. It is My path and My plan that is the Only path you can be on where there is Light, Forgiveness and Love. I am that light, I am the Forgiver and I am everlasting Love.
Let Me show you the way. For I have never left you, nor forsaken you, but you have My plan to fulfill. You have My purpose for which the blessings will be many, but you will follow Me and Know that it is I that can do anything and it is I that is mightier than any of these little things you are so scared of- You have only to listen and follow and these demons will drop like flies at your feet now that you have turned to me”
. I left my faith, hope and confidence by the wayside because a maniac entered my life and I let his lies and threats and manipulations take root inside my mind. Those abusive words that told me I was not good enough. I was a bad mother, a worse wife, and if it was possible the worse kind of person. All because of one man’s lies to another and then another that I was guilty of some such nonsense for which I was completely unaware. Which I knew not to be true, but when so many clamber together from different corners of your life to tell the lies about you it becomes easier and easier to believe them.
I turned from God. I was the recalcitrant child running from the disciplining Father that would only save the day if I would have turned to Him instead of trying to rely on myself because I felt unworthy of anyone’s help or love.
Everyone had turned on me. I was alone and because of this I was removed from the protection of His angels and love because of my bitterness that I felt unworthy of those that had left my life and unworthy of any help from people. I had turned my back on Him and my family instead of turn towards Him.
It was only then when I had turned to Him out piercing fear in the solitude and fear with tears streaming down my face that I was reminded.
Reminded that psalmists words that so piercingly said;
is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings…
Continue your love to those who know you, your righteousness to the upright in heart.”
Because my heart was righteous, myself genuine and true. I had never left whom I was. I was still here just battered and bruised. The strong woman I had always known, the outspoken, loyal friend and the sentinel for those that would hurt people I loved was still there… just buried deep under the devil’s handiwork.
I was reminded that the devil only attacks those who pose the greatest of threats to his purpose. I was reminded that the greater the threat and the greater the blessings I was to be given or already have was the reason and if I only remembered who I was I could be redeemed. So I prayed.
In Jesus’ name, God hear me. Forgive me, I have been childish, forgive me for turning from you. I love you. I remember that you love me. With you I can accomplish all things and You will remind me of my strength and put on all Your armor and all of the angels beside me and You in front of me; only You will defeat them, but you will give me what I need to survive. To testify. Amen.
And so, I was given gifts of His sight. What does that mean, you may be asking yourself. Well, quite literally I was able to foresee within the next year in those darkest moments of fear what was being plotted and planned to, in effect, break me. Break in the sense, that there were people planning to malign me to the point where I would be declared pathologically crazy or legally a criminal. People had planned to debase, defame and defraud me. But I was able to see with clarity what was being done. Through my courage and steadfast belief in myself, which was restored by God, He gave me the sight and wherewithal to fight back, protect myself, and those I loved.
Never has a woman overcome so much without any other helping hand in her life than the hand of God. Unseen, unbelieved and without help other than His. Which is what he wanted all along. How else could I sit here right now in my big beautiful home with both my children and my husband back by my side and a booming career with the courage to tell my story? Because I turned to God and He has restored me to where I should be.
I am sitting here in my big beautiful home, with my family restored and an amazing career and all my family both small and large back standing tall behind me believing in me and in my story.Faith restored to all and my testimony for God’s greatness and His ability that even with all that stood against me; I rose. I rise!
My fear and my guilt played with my otherwise confident, outgoing and confident self. I had seen the worst in humanity and was put in the category of
Not a good person
I have always tried to live and let live. I was raised with manners. I was raised to be civil even in anger. I have a temper, but who does not? The only times I have ever let that anger express itself is when I have been pushed to the very limits and I dare anyone to say I have an “anger problem” who has had to deal with what I have had to deal with.
After everything that happened that day at the beach with a madman. My husband still wanted me. Can you believe that? My guilt and my fear of what would happen to me and him- with his family? I could not go back to him. I felt that it would be better to let him find someone whom he could be proud of. So, for two years we enjoyed fifty-fifty custody of our daughter and my son would often go and visit with her during some of these times too. (My son is not his).
Two years of sharing everything to do with my baby-girl with him. To nothing.
I worked, but then I didn’t. I moved to the house in a different city eighty-nine miles away from where we used to live to live in a house my mother owned. We continued the shared parenting time. I put her in daycare, he paid for that mostly, but the daycare/preschool was with me always.
Then everything changed. He said if I would not come home we would have to do something about our daughter because she would soon begin kindergarten and she would have to be with one of us the bulk of the week and she would need to be with one of us more than the other. I knew this, yet I could not bring myself to go back. To allow him to make everything alright after everything I had went through with this other man”ster” (monster). What kind of woman would I be if I went back and let my husband make it all better? His family would hate him and I would be the disgraceful wife to all of his friends. How could I let him face all of that? He deserved better.
I kept putting the brakes on it. What I did not know was that his mother and aunt had got him paired up with a lawyer that “took no prisoners”. My husband had convinced my mother that I did not need a lawyer because he would never do anything to hurt me.
She believed him. Why wouldn’t she? I was the one that did him wrong. He had never hurt me like I did him.
They were busy little bees, and I was trying to navigate a legal world to whit I had no clue how it operated. I was so naive about the process that I did not even know when my mom and I showed up to a court hearing one day that that was the day I was to be getting a divorce and custody would be established. I had always thought of myself and pretty smart, but the legal jargon and the names of the hearing not at all usual or clearly stated to it’s meaning by word. I was bereft.
Then when in that court by myself and my husband and his family with the “in” within the legal world in our county showed me just how biased and unethical the legal system can be when you know people. I was condescended to, unfairly persecuted and the hearing had barely begun. I begged for an extension to acquire legal help and the magistrate denied me at every turn even though I had proof I had been trying to get free legal representation. I tried to ask for a few things. Denied. Every time. I was humble and respectful and the magistrate talked to me like I was a dog.
It was a setup. And we walked right in.
Rather than lose all sense of self and tightly reigned in anger and astonishment I begged the court for a recess and went to the bathroom to have a near breakdown. I spoke to my mother in the bathroom and then out in the hallway and told her, “we need to leave, we have to leave. There is no way I know how to fight this fight and the magistrate is in his aunt’s pocket somehow, because this is not RIGHT!” The Bailiff came out and condescendingly told me that if I go back in then I will be able to tell my side of the story, at least. He said much more than that, but his tone, his words were dripping with sarcasm and barely held censure and negativity.
I have never been spoken to by professionals in that manner before. From the magistrate, to the bailiff and all the rest of them. They would speak to dogs better. Telling me to my face that I was lying without proof. The magistrate herself introduced evidence against me as if that was her job. Passing judgement before we had even begun. It was all rigged.
So we left. I have never been more upset. Angry that my mom believed my husband in that he would never hurt me and I did not need a lawyer. Hurt that his aunt whom worked in the legal realm in Sarasota County had pulled strings to have me put in a position where the magistrate and all the Kings Court Jesters would unethically and illegally abandon their oaths and responsibilities because I had no one to turn to.
Perfect for them; and absolutely the worst for me.
Later that day, my mom came over to tell me the news. I would only get to see my daughter for fourteen hours a month with supervised visitation. In Sarasota county only. And only after six months would I be able to petition the court for a change.
From 50/50 time to 14 hours a month.
In that moment, I was broken. Death could take me. I felt as if my daughter had died everyday I couldn’t see her. I re-lived this grief daily. I could not think straight for the pain. Screaming in pain as if I had watched it all through a lens. And my pain was just beginning.
All the struggles, rape, false accusations and threats from a madman and nothing compared to the pain of this moment. My baby girl was lost to me. How would she handle it? Would she be okay? Two years had passed since the incident and she didn’t recall a thing. We shared her and she was with me every week 3 to 4 nights a week. Now? Never would I smell her neck in the morning, or dress her for school, or comb her hair out or… anything.
The deck was so big against me from every turn and every place I turned, I thought surely God has forsaken me. Because this was too much. Really, I did not handle any of this in anyway. I shut down. Literally.
The ultimate price being paid for not by me, but my daughter. Whom went from seeing her mommy for several days in a row and over night for two years to fourteen hours a month. All due to a system that was manipulated and used to hurt a woman not caring that the child they sought to protect was abused in the process.
Being persecuted for something you did not do is hell, but then being guilty of being dumb is just as damaging to self anyway. Why fight the smear campaign? Why fight the threats? Why do anything at all?
I may not be guilty of neglecting my daughter, but I was guilty of being dumb and not fighting the kidnapping of my baby girl.
The attorney didn’t think the odds would be in my favor and playing it safe for the long road was the option I took. I should have done it all so differently. I blamed myself. For everything. So I took what came my way and pulled up my pants and took the chuck to my chin like a man.
I was afraid of being convicted. I was afraid it would get worse. The way Brent was so committed to following through with his threats.
In that fear I learned that those decisions would be the ones I would regret more than any other decision I ever made.
My baby was kidnapped. The police believed a drunk man over me. I read a study once that stated that police believe men’s version of an even 89% of the time over women. I am living proof of this statistic. Over and over this has been my truth.
And I’m over it!
So here I am world! See me! Shouting from the rooftops as loud as I can! I did not neglect my daughter. I did not let my husband take me back. I did not do any of the dozens of other things Brent put out there that I did!
He did though. He did take my daughter. He did stalk me. He did plant evidence on my laptop, in my home. He did break in to my home. He did coerce and manipulate others to join him in humiliating me. He did talk other people in to believing his lies about me. He did talk about having me killed. He did coerce people to make statements and make false police reports about me and by me. (Or a fake me, that is).
I am over living in silence. I am over pulling up my pants and taking it on the chin.
I grew up learning to take responsibility for my actions. I was not guilty for everything Brent ever said about me, but I was guilty of being naive. I was guilty of thinking that walking a brief distance away from the car where my tired daughter sat strapped in a car seat to get my beach belongings only to turn back around and find her gone. I am guilty of thinking,
Who would ever take a child not there own that I know?
Answer: a madman. A monster. My first lesson was, in his mind at least, to give him what he wanted. Over my children’s needs and my own. That’s when the fear set in. Coupled with responsibility and accountability and we now have a stage set for my own destruction. And I allowed it to happen because my own guilt of being an idiot and putting my child anywhere near a monster proved I was guilty of something.
So I took it. I took it all.
I blamed myself for everything, so I fought against nothing. I let myself be run over. I also set the stage for my husbands family to run on a platform that would be the most harmful and detrimental experience of my life. And that of my daughter. With lies, exaggerations and conscious decisions made by those whose only concern was to win. Even at the expense of harming an innocent with their lies to her about her mommy. With the interrogations after my time with her.
So I live with this face that haunts me. Knowing this is how she looked and felt when she was found in the car in a strange place with a scary man that was passed out behind the wheel.
And the police, after I spoke to two different cops, anxiously asking for help finding my daughter, believed that vile man when he said I left them to their own devices and I’m the one that parked illegally in a place where I’ve been going for years. Knowing exactly where to park and knowing exactly where I parked that day with witnesses that could prove it.
But I was not believed. I was the villain. I was the one who hurt my baby girl. Me. The one she clung to during all times of fear and sickness.
I took it for her. I took it for my family. I blamed myself.
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Do you have a story? Maybe you know someone who does? Maybe your mom or dad, sister or brother, friend, child, relative or neighbor? Marsy’s Law is important in that it gives rights to victims and ensures law enforcement begin to receive training to learn how to spot abuse and gives victims equal rights to protection and information and a voice in our Justice System.
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Tell your story.
After the arrest and subsequent separation from my husband. Which was what I had wanted all along, right? I mean, my husband could always talk me out of whatever decision I tried to make that he disagreed with. That is why I made the choice to step out because he had always told me that would be the deal breaker. That if cheating was ever an action between us, that we would be over.
So I decided. I made the choice. I did the unthinkable and I paid for that choice ten-fold.
The entire year following what Brent did to my daughter, my family, and I was spent in fear, terror and living under the thumb of a maniac and his mother. I spent every waking minute being contacted through text, phone calls, and emails; constantly being barraged with pleading, and threats and even coercion. The shear quantity of communications from Brent was unbelievable. Hundreds of texts in an hours time, calls at every few minutes interspersed with texts and emails.
I was kept on the phone for hours by this Brent maniac telling me what to do. How to pack, what lies to tell and how to conduct my life. Whenever I went to his house, because he would not let me have a moments peace, where he lived with his mother, I found out what and where hell as I knew would be redefined.
His mother threatened me, he had her do it and he also threatened me. They told me they would turn my mother in to the IRS for fraud because she was an accountant. They told me they would tell my husband about us and I laughed because I had already told him everything. Then they told me they would call child protective services and worsen the case against me. They told me they would call the state licensing board regarding my husbands license and how he was conducting fraud too.
I had learned that his mother and his sister, before she had died, that they had done just those things to other girls when other girls would get in the way of what her daughter wanted. This whole family was… wrong. More than wrong; evil.
Living with Fear for the ones that I loved the most… I had never let anyone have that much control over me. I was the strong one. I was the one that could walk away from anything and anyone.
Being adored those few short weeks and in between the threats and coercion I was off-kilter and in fear.
I did not know what to do or where to turn. I felt shame. I felt unworthy of my husbands attempts to reconnect and return to the fold. How could he really want me after I put our daughter in such danger. I could not let him make such a bad decision again. And believe me he tried.
During a visit where his mother made her threats very clear, Brent wanted to go out. We did. Brian started asking when I was going to be coming home to get the kids and I took the calls in a bathroom stall and somehow Brent freaked out and started making assumptions about what I was doing, so I told him the truth. My responsibility to my husband and kids still more of a priority than him. A mistake to be sure.
My honesty has always gotten me in more trouble than any lie ever has.
That night he kept his mother and I awake with his crazy ranting and raving. I was so tired. He would not let me sleep and he would not let me leave. That night was my first physical abusive encounter with a mad man.
He ended up telling me that he did not feel safe enough with me around him to go to sleep. His mother outside his bedroom door. He told me he would have to tie me up in order to feel safe enough to sleep. I told him no. NO! I repeated over and over eventually I yelled out to his mother whom replied, “Brent, no one is tying anyone up!”. He told her to shut up and he closed the door and locked it. Where he proceeded to find rope he had already in his room and tie me up in the most unusually skilled manner.
Rope around my neck that went from the back of my neck to my hands which he tied together behind my back then around my waist and between my legs which he wound around my arms then to my ankles which he tied with my knees bent. When the aches began in my legs I tried to stretch my legs out which I learned would choke me and simultaneously rub me awfully between my legs. Bending my legs back up would lessen the choke around my neck and rub again in a painful way between my legs.
He would pick me up and position me to my knees with my face on his mattress and on my knees with my feet almost against my rear end. Where he proceeded to… well rape is obviously what happened, but he did so in a manner in which no place was left untouched and moved the rope as he needed to reach where he wanted. Choking me and my words from me. He made it very difficult to say anything at all, but I did say no. Repeatedly, at a whisper which is all the rope allowed.
Afterwords, he slept. He left me there while he rested. When he woke, he tenderly untied me and rubbed the places on my wrists and ankles where the rope had left red marks and dents. Picked me up and took me to the shower where he washed me off and was so unbelievably nice about it.
He wanted to lay out on his dock on the lake where he boldly laughed and commented,
Wow, last night was kinda like rape, wasn’t it?
I looked at him as if he had grown three heads, because up until this point I had not said a word to him, but I replied to that rhetorical question with a firm, “yes it was!”. He just laughed.
A little while later I was packing and trying to leave when he began another tantrum about me leaving. We tousled and argued and his mother just sat there. He physically restrained me from leaving by sitting on top of me in the drivers seat of my car. Which I decided to try another tactic and say, “fine, I’ll stay, I’ll stay”. He got out still holding on to my arms. It was getting late and I needed to leave, so that I can get back to my kids. At one point, I grabbed his phone and threw it as hard as I could across the yard thinking he would run after it and I could run to my car and make a run for it.
It did not work. Brian called and I answered and quickly, in front of his mother and Brent, shouted, “he won’t let me leave, Brian, I don’t know what to do, he won’t let me leave” which is when Brent dove for me and my phone and hung up on him. I had already said I was going to call the cops and that was when his mother told me that she would tell them that I was drunk or on drugs or whatever to make sure that it would not be home that I would get to go to, but jail.
After everything that they had threatened me with and followed through with, I believed her. I believed they would follow through with everything they said.
This situation lasted much longer than one day or one week, but months on end. I did not know what to do. I was shamed and felt unable to talk to my mother, my husband, or anyone. My reputation in tatters who would help me anyway? This is how I felt.
Ashamed and embarrassed and unable to ask for help. Until one day I had had enough and felt at the end of my rope, literally. I told my mom everything. Well, almost everything, I left out the physical abuse. I told her about all the threats. I told her what they said they would do to her, Brian and my kids. She told me she was not scared of them and if they said they would do something to her regarding her job, she said, “let them, any investigation would prove naught and it was just as illegal to turn in a false report as it was to be doing something wrong.” She is the most ethical person I know.
It was not until this conversation that I finally had the courage to get away.
And there was so much that happened in between this conversation and the arrest that it would take a year to tell it all, but for now this was all I needed to hear to give me the strength to go no contact.