Why I hate Mackworth Island, by Rick Wormwood

Why I hate Mackworth Island Imagine if Abu Ghraib was populated with deaf children. One of them was my sister. That’s why I went to see that house burn BY RICK WORMWOOD

On a recent, overcast morning, the deaf gathered in the quiet corner of a Falmouth parking lot, waiting for their ride. They were once students together. Now they are an alumni association of sorts. When I introduced myself, several of them recognized my name from having gone to school with my sister, so I was quickly accepted into the fold. Using more sign language in the next half hour than I had in the previous decade, I was surprised at how much I remembered. The signs emerged from my subconscious and somehow worked their way down to my hands. Two navy blue vans and a yellow school bus arrived to load us up for the short drive to Mackworth Island, the 100-acre jewel in Casco Bay that is home to the Governor Baxter School for the Deaf, Maine’s only institution of its kind. Given the afternoon’s emotional agenda, the school’s administration took the unusual step of closing the island, which is also a state park, to the public. Certain people who used to work for the school, and who still vehemently deny the truth of what once happened there, will occasionally make trouble for the former students. Nobody wanted them around. We were going to Mackworth for some healing, not to fight. Passing through a security checkpoint on the bridge seemed to justify the palpable nervousness in the vans. I couldn’t help but feel that it was a dangerous day. When we were deposited near the guardhouse, not far from a convoy of what seemed like every fire truck the town of Falmouth possessed, people started making their way up the hill towards the house that we had all come to watch burn. It’s not hyperbole to say that the abandoned farmhouse that had been rotting away in a secluded island meadow for more than a decade was the epicenter of the most evil and shameful chapter in 20th-century Maine history. A quick perusal of the 1982 state attorney general’s report on the scandal that hit the school is horrifying. For many years, this house was the home of Dr. Robert E. Kelly, the Governor Baxter School’s principal from the early 1960s until his resignation in 1981. According to the AG’s report, it was common practice for Kelly to require young male students to report to the farmhouse at night so that he could "teach him about sex for the future." His lessons, say the report, included strip poker, sex acts, bondage, the threat of beatings, and lots of photographs. Kelly was a shutterbug. You know all those pictures you’ve seen from Abu Ghraib Prison? Well, just imagine that instead of Iraqi prisoners, they are young deaf kids, and instead of the pictures being taken to humiliate a suspected insurgent into spilling the beans about terrorism, which is twisted enough, they were shot to shame kids into doing whatever sick sexual thing Dr. Kelly desired. Now imagine, if you can, that this went on in one form or another for 20 years. Dr. Kelly knew just how to break his targets down. Stories abound in the deaf community, and not all made it into the AG’s report, but try just this one on for size: Any child initially unwilling to comply would be bound naked to a tree outside until almost dawn, when they would be released with a warning; if they were still unwilling to submit the next night, it was back on the tree. The remote school’s layout provided the perfect setup for Kelly’s activities. Not only was the house just far enough away from the rest of the school to be hidden from view, but who were the kids going to tell? Most of them were too ashamed of what happened to tell anyone, but even if they had wanted to, they couldn’t communicate with 99 percent of the population unless the hearing person was willing to take some extra time and trouble to glean the message. And where would they see these people anyway? They lived in isolation on an island. There were no police cruisers happening by on routine patrol that might notice something, no early-bird neighbors walking their dogs at four in the morning to wonder why the hell there was a naked kid tied to a tree. Charles Dickens and Stephen King could have worked on the problem for a year and not come up with a more perfect location for such an insidious thing to happen. Deaf since birth, my only sibling and older sister, Sharon, attended Governor Baxter from 1973 until the watershed year of 1981, when the shit hit the fan in public. Because of her, I practically grew up on Mackworth Island. Our mother was constantly shuttling Sharon to or from the dorms where she spent weeknights, or attending some fair or seminar, almost always with me in tow. I knew the ins and outs of the island and the Governor Baxter School long before attending school myself, and back then, I thought that Mackworth Island was a wonderful place: not only postcard beautiful, but full of playgrounds and curiosities. And if my mom and I encountered Dr. Kelly, or his boss, Dr. Joseph Youngs — Governor Baxter’s superintendent and the de facto King of Mackworth Island — before leaving, then all the better. Even a passing audience in the corridors was a special event. Bumping into them was like chancing upon the Pope, or maybe Don Corleone. When we met up, my mother would lavish them with a level of deference and gratitude usually reserved for priests, and I, taking my cues from her, did the same. We craved their approval. It makes me sick to remember now, but that’s all in hindsight. At the time, we didn’t know the truth. As a kid growing up in Sanford, when Dr. Kelly’s name was spoken in our house it was said with enough reverence to suggest that he was a saint in heaven. Dr. Kelly and Dr. Youngs were considered among the leading lights of American deaf education. Maine was lucky to have them, we were told, and so it seemed to be (even in the course of its criminal investigation, the attorney general’s office did find that hundreds of students appeared to receive good educations and sound care thanks to other dedicated professionals not involved in any wrongdoing). The Governor Baxter School was a place that the frightened parents of small deaf children, people wondering how their kids would learn the extra skills necessary for them to make their way in the world, were beyond relieved to learn existed. It was an answer to their prayers. They delivered their extra-vulnerable children to live and learn on the island with great relief and dispatch. Whenever a kid came home on the weekend and told his or her parents a strange story or displayed an unusual bruise or mark, Youngs or Kelly had an explanation: The student got hurt during harmless roughhousing. The kid was telling lies because he or she was having a hard time adjusting. The child wanted attention; had a fanciful imagination. The deference these men cultivated among the families of their charges, combined with how deeply people needed to believe that Governor Baxter actually was what it seemed, made such lame excuses work time and time again. Kelly and Youngs were hard men to question. Only with the AG report did many of us find out that the injuries were often the result of their fists. My sister broke her arm out there once, and we still don’t know why or how. The two men were very different types. Dr. Kelly didn’t affect Dr. Youngs’s paterfamilias, Albert Schweitzer–of–Casco Bay act. Youngs was Mister Community Involvement — the Falmouth Lions Club 1968 Man of the Year, the past president of both the Falmouth and Portland Rotary Clubs, past president of the American Society of Deaf Educators, etc. Dr. Youngs was a public figure. If you had a board, he would sit on it. If you had a civic group, he would come and give a talk about his educational philosophies. He ate more banquet chicken than a presidential candidate, and had more commemorative gavels than Judge Wapner. Dr. Kelly was, by contrast, quiet. Though not the public personage that Youngs was, he did make his presence felt at the school. I can remember once visiting my sister’s class and being startled to see Dr. Kelly walking around the outside of the buildings, peering in at the students through the windows. Never could I imagine my own grade-school principal, Sister Theresa, the toughest Ursuline nun in the diocese, doing something so strange. When I asked my sister’s teacher about it, she said that Dr. Kelly walked around the school like that all the time. There was also a telling piece of sign language that Kelly would flash to kids in class through the windows while making his exterior rounds. Former students say that he would just slightly lift his thumb before bringing it back down on top of his fist, which meant: "This is where I have you, under my thumb." It was all part of how he kept people frightened and quiet. He was the spirit and driving force behind Mackworth Island’s secret culture of sexual abuse and its code of silence. And it wasn’t just Kelly devouring young boys, or Joe Youngs beating the crap out of whomever stepped out of line, or various other faculty and staff taking their cues from the top and acting in kind, although the public eventually learned that all of that happened. In a twisted version of trickle-down economics, the older students extended what had happened to them to the younger kids until the abuse touched nearly everybody. Then some of those kids brought it home from the island. I know this from firsthand experience. In 1980, soon after Sharon started commuting to Mackworth Island daily instead of sleeping in the dorm, when I was nine and she was 12, she came into my room late one night and turned on the light so that we could sign to one another. Sitting on my bed, she signed, "I want to show you something." "What," I replied? Then she pulled aside her nightgown to expose a breast and leaned forward, clearly aiming to stick that breast in my face. When I lurched away, practically climbing up the headboard, she grabbed my foot and pulled it between her legs, wanting me to stick my toes in her vagina. As I pushed her away she tried to overpower me, so the fight was on, but she didn’t want to escalate to a point that would have awakened our sleeping parents, so she quickly changed tactics and tried to convince me. "No, no, you don’t understand," she kept repeating, "I want to show you something. You don’t understand. I want to show you something." I pointed towards her room, signing "no" and insisting that she leave. After realizing that I would not acquiesce, Sharon stood up, called me fucking stupid and then returned to her bed, but there was no door between our two attic bedrooms, nothing to shut or lock between us to prevent her from returning, which she did most nights for the next few months. Sometimes, when I heard her coming, I’d turn on my light and send her back before she crossed the threshold; or I’d pretend to be asleep, so that after sitting on the edge of my bed and poking my shoulder a few times she’d give up. Often, she would hit the light herself, and then insist that she only wanted to show me something, that she was mad at me for being stupid, that I should just let her. "Just let me," she would sign again and again. "I just want to show you something." These late-night encounters always ended with her stomping away, frustrated. To say that this freaked me out doesn’t even begin to get there. I was beyond freaked out. Why she would try something like that with me was beyond my nine-year-old ability to fathom. Physically, things never progressed past the inelegant and immediately rebuffed bum’s rush of that first night, but they would have if she’d had her way. Those frightening evenings were the beginning of my life as a night owl. Sound sleep was hard to come by. I stayed up reading, or with one ear on her room and the other on a small radio. On most nights I made certain that she was sleeping soundly before relaxing enough to drift off myself. Afraid of the consequences to her if I said anything, and also because I was a bewildered kid with no idea of where to begin, it took me 13 years to tell anybody what had happened, but even after telling my now-ex-wife two days before our wedding, the subject didn’t surface again until being discussed for 40 seconds in the summer of 1997. I remember it because it happened to be the night that Robert Mitchum died. July 1. That’s how I remember it. It was my deepest secret. Within a year of what happened between my sister and me came February of 1981, when stories about the true conditions at the school hit the press. Coping, a state-published newsletter for the disabled, laid out the basic charges, and that was like Mrs. O’Leary’s cow kicking over the lantern. Over the next few weeks, the Press Herald got more specific. Dr. Youngs was accused of viciously beating students, including one well-documented time when he stabbed a student in the thigh with a pen to get his attention. Jan Repass, the Dean of Students, himself deaf, was accused of having sexual relations with teenage girls, and Dr. Kelly, well, what I told you about him before was just the tip of the iceberg. Governor Joe Brennan ordered the Attorney General to investigate, but all three men named in the news stories denied everything. They tried to both fight the charges and to return to their jobs, but the blood was in the water. Too many other shoes kept dropping. The furor all of this caused dominated the papers for months. I had a Press Herald paper route at the time, and every morning as these things were exploding into public view I would sit on the steps of Sleeper’s Market, where I picked up my papers, and read the articles in the light of dawn, dreading to see just how much farther my world had splintered apart since the previous day. As the allegations piled up, I was again at my mother’s side as she became involved in a parents organization that formed to oppose the school administration. In a strange way, this was one of the most exciting periods of my life. Always the only child sitting around crowded tables in various Portland bars or church basements, I listened in amazement as the adults plotted against our former heroes. It felt like we were joining a great rebellion, attempting to overthrow the great commanding power of our lives, but this participation and excitement eventually cost me my final bit of idealism. First, Youngs, Kelly, and Repass resigned, which we thought was a great victory because it meant they had to vacate the school and island. But, to quote Attorney General James E. Tierney: "Because many of the incidents uncovered by the State investigators were beyond the statute of limitations, and other incidents were not clearly criminal violations under the current language of the Maine Criminal Code, and because of considerations for the emotional well-being of the victims, no criminal indictments will be sought by the State as a result of evidence compiled to date by this office." That’s right. When the attorney general’s office issued their report, it was announced that no charges would be filed against anybody involved, not because the stories of abuse weren’t deemed credible, but because only people for whom the statute of limitations had expired were willing to testify. Any student that had been targeted recently was afraid to talk, so nobody responsible ever stood before a judge or jury. If that seems hard to conceive of, consider this analogy: When the regime fell on Mackworth Island it was a lot like when Saddam Hussein’s government fell, in that right after it happened there were a lot of people going around Baghdad saying, "This storm will pass, and when it does, Saddam will be back, so keep your mouth shut and don’t help the infidels." Governor Baxter’s students had good reason to suspect that Kelly and Youngs might survive the accusations, because they had before. In the late 1970s, students had circulated a petition calling for Youngs and Kelly’s removal, which they sent to Augusta. A couple of days later, Dr. Youngs called a school assembly and ripped the petition up in front of everybody. Without giving its merits a second thought, Augusta had just turned it over to Dr. Youngs. Given that history, how could anyone from Augusta make the students feel safe enough to speak out? They could not. Until learning that no one would go to jail for these crimes, I was completely naïve. I believed in truth, justice and the American Way. I was a Boy Scout in Saint Ignatius Parish Troop 327. I took my hat off during the National Anthem and rooted against Communist athletes on ABC’s Wide World of Sports. Nothing in the world as I understood it had prepared me for the moment when I realized that nobody would be held responsible for the outrage at Governor Baxter. It was crushing. I was beyond devastated. Compounding that tragedy, when their potential legal troubles disappeared, nothing prevented Kelly, Youngs, and Repass from collecting their pensions, since they had resigned and not been fired. Dr. Youngs angrily professed his innocence to anyone who would listen right up until he died of cancer a few years later. Dr. Kelly left the state, but he still gets a monthly pension check from Augusta. Jan Repass is Portland Adult Ed’s most popular sign language instructor. I check the catalog every time it comes to my house, and his classes are consistently marked "fills up fast," which always makes me want to puke. Maybe he’s made his peace with the past, but I’m still making mine. This is why I hate Mackworth Island, and I even hate that people around here think of it as such a beautiful, wonderful place — perfect for short hikes or long picnics. Two married members of my band, the Rumbling Proletariat, go there for romantic walks. I know someone else who was proposed to there by her longtime boyfriend. That one really bothered me. Would you propose to someone at Auschwitz? Would you stroll around Ground Zero, holding hands with your baby and listening to the birds sing? I guess that you might if you had no idea of what had transpired there, and that’s the way it is with most people around here regarding Mackworth. Lots of people know that something untoward happened on the island, but they aren’t sure what, and they aren’t real keen to find out. Why would they be, if it never touched their lives? I can’t blame people for not wanting to face it. I’d prefer not facing it myself, but to those of us connected to what happened at Governor Baxter, it’s a piece of recent history so big that it seems to fill the sky. I’m not saying that nobody knows, just that almost nobody knows the real story. Sure, it’s been in the press. It’s been written about dozens of times since 1981, and I’m sure a lot of people saw the articles about the budget fight over what’s commonly called the Governor Baxter School Compensation Fund, which was set up for the victims several years ago, or the preparations for destroying the farmhouse. Not even Governor Baldacci knows what happened. On March 25, survivors, supporters, and deaf activists gathered at the State Capital to protest the proposed budget, which at the time did not include the promised funding for the Governor Baxter School Compensation Program. After all of the speeches on the steps, and several victimized former students once again told their stories to the state media, everyone moved into the rotunda, where Governor Baldacci was about to proclaim April 15 "Teach Kids To Save Day." When this bit of flummery was over, one of the deaf activists asked Baldacci if he would briefly meet with the Governor Baxter alumni there that day. Baldacci came right over, listened very intently to the deaf plead for the Compensation Program, and then told everybody that no mater how much he wished that things were different, he was committed to a balanced budget, and this prevented him from being able to allocate the six-million-dollar infusion the fund needed. Eventually, when the final budget passed, the money was included, but that was their party line on that day. The Governor Baxter alumni then asked Baldacci about Dr. Kelly’s pension, a subject that Maine’s deaf community finds endlessly infuriating. As they explained who Kelly was, the governor seemed confused, and then, as he listened, mad. "Who is this man?" Baldacci demanded, before adding, "Someone give me a pen and a piece of paper so I can write down his name." I was standing behind the governor at this point, and once the interpreters finished signing what he’d said, 40 deaf people went into their pockets all at once, they were so anxious to meet his request. Some of them actually seemed to think that he was going to do something about Kelly’s pension. But Baldacci, by his own admission, was in the dark and didn’t even know who Kelly was. Maybe that’s why he could live with not funding the Governor Baxter School Compensation Program. Worse, if the governor doesn’t know about Dr. Robert E. Kelly, whom I consider an evil, degenerate, and remorseless pedophile who got his twisted, illegal jollies right under Augusta’s nose for decades, then how the hell does he know to look for the next Dr. Kelly, who could be coming soon to a school near you? That’s why I was on Mackworth Island to watch that damn farmhouse burn down to nothing. That’s why we were all there. Hardly anyone knows the truth, and hardly anyone cares. Whatever peace there was to be had wasn’t going to come from outside the deaf community. We had to go out and get it for ourselves. Dr. Kelly’s persuasion tree had been cut down several years earlier with similar ceremony. Many of the people who came to watch the house go had also been there when the tree came down; they pointed out the spot in the grass where it had stood. Several rows of folding chairs had been brought down from the school, but nobody sat. For the sake of closure, which I have always considered a cheap and overrated concept, we were all invited to throw an item onto the farmhouse’s porch to be consumed in the inferno, the idea being to transfer our rage and anger to these things and then let these emotions go forever when they were destroyed. Small blocks of wood were provided on which to write messages. Some people threw in the pictures that Kelly had taken of them. Then the local fire department burned the place down to almost nothing. It was hot and glorious. In 1984, my sister suffered a mental breakdown from which she has never recovered. She needs to be constantly assured of her safety, always asking, "Is everything okay? Am I safe? Do you like me?" She is obsessed with sex, and has believed herself to be pregnant for longer than I care to remember. She carries around a doll in place of the baby that never arrives. Occasionally, she makes up stories about being raped, at different times alleging that both my father and I have raped her. Do these rape visions have anything to do with her time at Governor Baxter? You could ask the same question about her mental illness in general. Was it the bad luck of biology, or did the God-knows-what that happened to her on Mackworth Island drive her crazy? A school friend of hers once told me how groups of boys would run Sharon down in the dorms at night like a wolf pack in order to pin her down and grope her, and this wasn’t something that only happened occasionally. For years, if you asked Sharon about anything improper that happened to her at the Governor Baxter School, all she would say is that once a housemother smacked her on the hand for no good reason. Press on to inquire about possible sexual abuse and she would adamantly contend that nothing like that ever happened to her. She doesn’t know about it happening to others, either, but these denials belie her sexual obsession. Her story on that matter has changed slightly in recent months. When she was asked to write down anything abusive that might have occurred to her, she supplied three words before refusing to elaborate: "dorm," "principal," and most ominously, "sisterhood." Does a mystery like that lead to closure? Man, I hope so. I hope maybe someday. It’s rumored that Dr. Kelly lives in Port St. Lucie, Florida, although some say Ireland. Wherever he is, Dr. Robert E. Kelly is a free man, sitting somewhere unperturbed. He may be thumbing through his old snapshot collection as you read this. But we cheered anyway as the flames consumed his old lair. The fire didn’t make up for anything, but when justice is elusive and imperfect, you have to hope that there is a reckoning somewhere other than on Earth. In that context, watching those roaring flames and imagining that they are the judgment awaiting Kelly someday, somewhere, was slightly satisfying, and when you’ve been marked by something as terrible as what happened to so many, for so long, on that lovely island, slightly satisfying is as good as it gets. Rick Wormwood can be reached at rickwormwood@excite.com *************************************************************************** My brother went to this school.  What abuse he suffered at the hands of these men, I don't know.   Maybe I don't want to know.  He won't discuss it.  It's hard to open up to your family that is hearing and doesn't know your language, didn't care enough about you to learn it so that could communicate with you.  I suspect I will carry to my grave, guilt and remorse for not adequately learning sign language so that I could  know my brother as a person and have a real conversation that's not limited to how are you on pen and paper.   It wasn't till he was late into his 40s that he ever even talked about it.  When I did finally learn what happened, it made sense about why my brother did what he did to me.  I don't blame my brother for what happened.  I don't think it was that big of deal, it happened once.  When we were older and I felt that maybe he was crossing boundaries not appropriate, I told him to knock it off.  You see, I had a voice, I had fists for fighting, I knew right from wrong, I was able to stand up for myself.  When he went to that school it was between the ages of 3 to 12, , he didn't have that power.  What breaks my heart now, is that he continues to drink out of control, have episodes of depression and not face the trauma of the past.  His drinking and how he is doing emotionally though, those are things that he has to take responsibility for.  He has to decide when enough is enough.  He is deaf, not stupid. What makes me mad, is that my husband is on the registry and what he did is nothing compared to what these other men did, who were never punished or disciplined.  They don't/didn't have to live with the label.

Are families going the way of the dinosaur?

Now this blog, like most blogs, is just my opinion, thoughts, feelings, which as we all know, is worth maybe two cents.  So bear that in mind when you are reading.

It seems like to me that this country is doing its damnedest to destroy families.  I know that some of you out there will say, that is crazy thinking!!!  So please if you can for a few minutes, try to follow my line of thinking.  Maybe I am crazy, so please feel free to share your thoughts and opinions, just in a nice way. 

We live in a day and age where divorce is becoming more and more frequent.  According to the statistics of some researchers, the US is 6th out the the 10 ten countries for divorce.  I am surprised, I thought we might have the highest rate.  Of course, I always think the US is #1 for everything, but most of the time, we are not.....except for when it comes to incarcerating people, we are very successful at locking people up, and not just our own.  Imagine that.  Any way, back to our divorce rates.  "50% of all marriages in America, end in divorce.  67% of second and 74% of third marriages end in divorce", according to Jennifer Baker of the Forest institute of Professional Psychology in Springfield , Missouri.  Statistically speaking, it sure doesn't look good for my husband and I.  This is his 3rd marriage, first marriage for me.  The chances of us, getting divorced are even greater since he was incarcerated.  85% of marriages where one of the partners is incarcerated ends in divorce.  Hmm, I wonder why?  Yes, I am being a bit sarcastic there.  I have a pretty good understanding from personal experience of why a marriage might end in divorce when someone has been incarcerated. Its a long list of reasons.
I knew going into this marriage that its likely that we will fail, but I didn't want to end up as just another statistic.  I am not saying this won't happen, but it won't happen without a fight.  The reason, I won't divorce my husband without having given it all I have is because I think divorce is detrimental to the well being of our children, our future children's children and the country as a whole.  I prefer to keep working on the problems that we face instead of packing it in, even if we are separated, while we figure out how to approach the issues.
I know that there is research out there to back up what I am saying, but personally, I don't care if the research supports what I say or not about most things, when I am able to observe things for myself and draw my own conclusions.  What I have noticed is that when people divorce, the quality of life goes down for most people, especially for women and the children.  Their homes are messier, the children have to fend for themselves more, more people end up on welfare because of divorce.   The children run wild, with less boundaries to safe guard them. Its hard for one parent to control their children. 
 Now I know these are generalizations and its not like this for every family.  I will say, that these generalizations are probably true for the majority.  It makes sense when you think about it.  Its harder to care for your children when you are doing it by yourself.  You don't have the time to clean your house or cook wholesome meals because you are too busy working your ass off just to survive.  I think its  harder to eat meals as a family too because as an adult, its lonely eating a meal without your partner, that you shared so much with.  It becomes easier and dulls the pain and loneliness by sitting in front of the TV with your food. Its hard to be the bad and good guy.  Its hard to find the emotional energy and physical energy that is needed for parenting when its just you.   Raising a family by yourself without the help and support of a partner is not optimal.  Its so cliche, but two are better than one.
What bothers me so much about this day and age, is it seems like we are telling people, either by words or actions, that" hey two parents is not needed to raise a family."  Listen, I know that single  parents can successfully raise their children, but honestly I think children do better when they have a stable family environment with at least 2 adults, if not more to help in their upbringing.  For a majority, that would be a mother and father.   I say this as a parent who is once again raising children on my own, and having had the chance to raise them with someone.  I prefer raising them with someone despite the heart ache that came with it.
I know that there are lots of reasons not to stay with a person, and everyone has to do what is right for them, but maybe if we thought about the consequences a bit more either before we make a family or before we divorce, we might make different choices.  I do wish I had thought about things more before I gave my heart away, but that is water under the bridge so to speak.  I also know that marriage is not easy, I wish it was.  Maybe we need to realize that having a family is not easy peezy like" Leave it to Beaver or the Brady Bunch.  It can be hard hard work, but then end result just might be worth it.  If we keep skipping from relationship to relationship, without fixing what went wrong in the first place, then what ever was broken in the first place, will continue to follow us and end up impacting more people.  Why not limit it to one family?  Think about it, my husband and his actions have affected 3 seperate families.  If I divorce my husband without learning about what I did to sabatoge our marriage, after all it takes two, I will bring that to the table in the next relationship.   I believe chances are that I would find another man who is an alcoholic or addict of some type.  There is something gentically encoded in me to seek out people who "need fixing" .  I say this because I come from a long line of caretakers.  I know it sounds sick in a way, but that's why I am talking about it.  It can't get better if its not acknowledged and appropriate steps taken to heal. 
 If he moves on and gets involved with another woman without addressing his problems, well then that's another family to get hurt.  Men as much as they hate to admit it, have a hard time living without us.  As much as women out there would think they wouldn't fall for my a man like my husband, I know that its not true, because I see them throw themselves at him more often than I like.  In my opinion, he does not know how to live without someone taking care of him.   So as many won't understand this, by staying with one person, maybe in the long run, less people will get hurt.
 How do I say this...our welfare program has in some ways hurt families and maybe is destroying them,  by giving money, when what we need to do, is find ways to make people more accountable and responsible for their children.  Its become too easy to let the government take care of us instead of toughing it out and taking care of ourselves. 
Another way that we are destroying families is by locking so many people up in prison.  I get that people need to pay for their crimes.  I get the idea of punishment.  What I don't get is why we have so many people locked up and for such long periods of time.  ( a majority who happen to be young black men, in case you didn't know. Still what is a problem for one, should concern all of us, because it won't long before its a problem for other groups of people as well)  What I don't get is why when a person fails to pay child support, that we lock them up, which just perpetuates the cycle.  What I am trying to say, is that we should be looking for solutions to strengthen people, strengthen families, so that this country can be strong.  If someone can't pay child support because they can't afford it, don't have a job, or they are not able to make wise choices because of immature behavior, addictions, whatever the case may be, aren't there ways to help them other than jail?  Wouldn't it be better to try and instill in them a sense that they are needed, that they have a purpose and then help them obtain what they need to be a member of society?  When we send people away to jail, the children who are left at home, are losing out on learning important lessens, like what a responsible parent is supposed to be like, what it means to be a man or a women.  What contributing to society means. If the children don't learn these lessons, then it affects their ability to raise their children, which again affects the next generation of children.
We are also losing our families to things like addiction to TV, the Internet, drugs, alcohol.  Whether we see it or not, these things when they are not balanced, and are in excess, they hurt our families.  We are hurt, because people are social creatures, at least some are.  Me, I am not so sure.  When we allow ourselves to be isolated by spending too much time in one activity, we are not spending face to face time with others, which is how we grow and develop healthy ways of thinking.
To sum it all up, I feel that its become too easy to give up when things get tough.  Its become too easy to let the government take care of us, instead of looking for solutions to our problems.  Its become to easy to walk away from our responsibilities when we say "I do."  We have lost sight that children need to be raised by a person, not a TV or computer screen.  We have forgotten that we are our childrens first and most important teachers.  (By the way, maybe we should think twice about letting our government run our schools)  We are losing sight that the roles of a mother and father are equally important.  We have forgotten that the roles that grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends play are important as well.
  Its become too easy for the government to use jail as a solution.  I think that there is a reason why so many people are in jail and its not just because of criminal behaviour, I think there is a bigger problem, but one that very few people want to think about. 
I apologize for the rambling that I do.  I know the words do not express my point very well, but if you can just think about about what family is, should be, what it means and what we can do to safe guard it, then I have succeeded despite my limitations.

child protective services is.....

Out of here.  As of May 21,2013, they decided to close the case.  Their rationale?  My children's safety which was why they came in the first place, isn't an issue at this time since my husband no longer is living with us and we are not receiving any of their "services." I think if my husband had met with them, and started getting counseling, that they would still be involved.  So maybe, he did the right thing?  I don't know.
 Whether or not my husband moves back in with us it will be between him and I, which is the way it should be.  I don't think he will be coming back home anytime soon, if ever, because for 1) We would have to move somewhere else.  There is no way, that he will come back to this address with neighbors who would love to harass him. ie, call the cops or cps 2) I am not sure that I am up for moving again.  We have just settled into this area, haven't been here a year.  The town is stuck up, clique, but cute.  My girls have made friends.  I would like to see my oldest one have a chance to graduate from a school where she has a couple of friends.  If she passes, she will be going into 8th grade next year.  Personally, I wouldn't mind moving, either closer to my current job, but then again, that might put us back in NY and I am not sure that is a good idea.  The physical aspect of moving, is what I dread the most. It will boil down to what I think is best for our children.   If moving seems like it will be better for them, we will move.  I don't really want to move to where he is, get all settled down, and then he ends up being taken away from us.  I fear that will happen because he has "unfinished" business to attend to here.  Another reason for not moving is he has other children in this area, which means, our children have brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents in this area.  Is it good to leave them behind for their father?  For me, that is the million dollar question. 3)Where I want to move to, he does not want to go.  I want to go to Houston, TX, not the actual city, just the general area.  I want to be where its warm, has close proximity to an ocean, good spicy food and a thriving economy.  I also like to listen to the Michael Berry show, not that he would appreciate that, seeing that I have a husband who is a RSO, but whatever, I have learned from that show not to be offended by so many things in life.  4) I don't know that my husband is ready to come back home.  It sounds like he is enjoying his work, fishing, meeting "famous" people, moving from area to area.  I know he would verbally disagree with me, and say he wants to come back home, but for me, actions speak louder than words.  Before he was released from prison the last time, I had my doubts about him being ready to settle down and raise a family.  While he was with us, he was gone so much of the time "for work" that it seemed like I saw him more in prison.  I don't see the point in being married if someone is not around.  I haven't seen him since February, soooooo......Also before he lives with us, I would like to know that he has addressed the reasons he was asked to leave in the first place, his drinking and also what I consider to be a sex addiction.  I don't want to go backwards.  Its too risky and it hurts a heck of a lot.  So while I love him still and miss him like crazy, I just don't see us being reunited as a family anytime soon. 

words I hate

There are some words that i absolutely positively detest and I cringe when ever I hear them, words like victim, needy, those people, cunt,and sex offenders.  I hate these words because they are negative, condescending, demeaning and they isolate people from one another.
The word victim is used to describe someone who had something bad happen to them that, that they had no control over it.  Every time some misfortune happens to someone people want to talk about how they are victim.   Your parents mistreated you, you are a victim.  A tornado destroyed your house, you are a victim.  You loss your job, you are a victim. You have cancer, you are a victim.  A victim is someone who needs help and compensation usually for how unfair life has treated them.  the problem I have with this, is that then we are all victims of something.  Life isn't fair, sometimes its down right crappy.  Some people have an easier time of it than others.  Some people seem to have really shitty things happen to them.  The thing is we all have bad things happen from time to time.  Does that make us all victims?  I guess if being human makes you a victim then it does.  Personally, I hate to see myself as a victim no matter what happens to me.  I like to see myself as getting stronger, learning and growing from whatever comes my way, not as a victim in need of help or pity from some other person.  Sure I may need to lean on you for support from time to time and that's fine as long as you understand, that we are equal and you are no better or no less than me.  It's like that song, "lean on me, when you not strong, I'll be there to help you carry on.  You can call on me brother, when you need a hand,  cause we all need someone to lean on. I just might have a problem that you understand, we all need somebody to lean on." this song, does not make victims out of people, instead it reminds that we all to lean on each other because we are in this together.  No one person is better than the other.
Same with the word needy, which implies that someone needs something, and we are just the person to supply it.  The funny thing about people who need something, is that the people who are giving to the "needy" person act like they are doing them a favor, never realizing that maybe they are the ones in need of something.  Someone may need some heat to stay warm this winter, but maybe, just maybe they have wisdom that someone else desperately needs.  Again, its these words portray in my head, an inequality, imbalance between the giver and the receiver.
I hate the word sex offender because again, it makes it sound like that person is different from you or me, for which I totally disagree.   People may hate what I have to say, but I believe we are all capable of sexual offenses.  I think we all have the capability to kill, commit affairs, lie, steal, cheat, etc. and that is why sexual offenses scare us so much.  We don't want to admit that in our deepest darkest part of our soul we are no different than the people we are so scared of.  I don't have scientific evidence to prove this, but I don't feel like I need it, especially when I know I am as average as they come, and yet I know that I am just as capable of horrible act as the next person, but by the grace of God, go I. 
There are things, I have said I would never ever ever do and I have done them.  The very fact that I could do things that I totally didn't believe in, things that went against everything I was ever taught, showed me that if I can do these things (which for the average person would not be that bad, but because I grew up in a very strict, conservative home, they were a big deal) despite praying for God's deliverance, then who is to say that anyone is incapable of anything.

                                                                  OOPS
I posted this blog before I had finished it, and then haven't been back on to finish it.
I put the word cunt in my list of words I hate because its one of the ugliest and most infuriating words I think a person can call a women.  Have you ever noticed that the more offensive/curse words have hard sounds in them like fuck, and shit?  I don't know why that it is, maybe because vowels are softer sounding so they don't make good swear words.  Cunt means the same thing as vagina.  If you called me a vagina, it just doesn't have the same ring to it, plus it takes longer to say.  You can call me bitch and I will probably laugh it off.  Call me the c word and I am likely to fight with you and probably with a fist, not just words.  It's one of those words I see red when I hear it.   Even the word dick for men, which is the equivalent, doesn't get the same reaction from men, maybe because they are quite proud of their johnson and don't care if you make references to it.  Not to mention some are saddled with that name at birth. 
In this day and age of equality, it bugs me to still see that women are looked down as the weaker species.  I know that most men won't say that our face because its politically incorrect, but it exists.  Every time, I hear men say to other men, come on "don't be a sally", I know that women though loved by men, still are considered less than them.  I truly don't understand the relationship between men and men or women and men.  When you stop to look at them, it can just be bizarre.  I think love/hate relationship between men and women would be more accurate.  Men love women, but on some level, I think they hate them as well.  Oh, well that could be a blog for another day.  :)
Another word that I think we could replace for more creative one is the word cronies.  I used that word for a report when I was in 10th grade.  I think we could have come up with a new word by now to describe the relationships between politicians.



Being vulnerable is a scary place to be.

It's the day after the Boston Marathon bombing.  Feels like a small version of 911.  Hard not to feel sad and a little lost.  I am sure many others were wondering where is the next bomb gonna off at?  I hope that we can live and not be ruled by fear. 
Today is a lonely day.  I feel a little forlorn and melancholy, more than usual.  Sometimes you just think about so many sad and unjust things that it brings you down.  I want to write tonight, not because I have anything happy or upbeat to say.  I wish I did, I just don't.  I just need to get some of this darkness out of my head and shine the light of truth on it.  I want to talk about how vulnerable person can be. 
My husband has been gone for almost 4 mos now.  We still talk and text a few times a day.  I miss him everyday.  I feel like a zombie sometimes, just existing, going through the motions.  Pretending to be alive when inside I feel lost, empty.  It's hard to go through these feelings and live this way.  I have lived through it once before and now I guess I get to live it once more.  So often I want to run away.  Other times, I just want someone else to love and hold me, take some of this incredible loneliness I feel and make it go away. 
This loneliness makes a person vulnerable.  In my head it would be so easy to have an affair.  Who would blame me?  He is gone, most likely going to be gone for a long time and maybe in the end years?  I know its probably not fair for me to encourage him in someone ways to find someone new to be with.  It just seems the easiest way to go.  If he fell in love with someone else, which would be easier for him than for me, we could just kind of stop this charade of being together.  Do you really think things will ever be the same when or if he ever comes home?  Do you think our children, especially my oldest will easily welcome him back home?  Do you think that we will be able to pick up where we left off? 
Its hard, I try telling him I'm not in a real good spot right now.  Other men, seem really attractive right now, more than usual.  It's not that I am afraid I will cheat on him.  I may want to, but it's something that the walls I keep around my heart keep me from doing.  Sometimes that is aggravating in its self.  I wish I was one of those free spirits who can love easily.  Love  doesn't come easily to me. I think I can count on my hands the people in my life, that I have said the words I love you and meant it.  It's a small miracle that we ended up together because it's really difficult for most people to get past the invisible walls I put up.  I guess that's why when I do love someone, I  don't stop loving them, even when I know I should.
In the past when he was incarcerated, I found that the easiest way to deal with these vulnerable stages was to be honest and upfront about it.  Say, hey...I have a crush on so and so.  When I did this, the feelings I may have been experiencing, seemed to diminish.  It was hard to talk about, but it helped a lot.  I don't know why it worked, it just did.  That's why I think honesty, even when it hurts is very important in a relationship. 
For me the honesty that I usually give to him isn't there.  I haven't told him about this blog or my "other face book"  account.  It's not that I need to hide these things from him.  I could tell him about them, but what's the point?( I am sure if I am honest with my self, that some of my actions and thinking is a bit about hurting him and getting revenge in some small weird way. ) When he comes home (if that happens) then I will share this part of my life with him.  I know he would criticize me for this blog, saying I put too much personal stuff out there that could hurt us.  I just can't keep living a lie, acting like everything is good, when there is so much pain. 
It's different this time, this is the longest I have ever gone without seeing him.  Our conversations are limited.  Having an honest conversation in which we are connecting just isn't happening at the moment.  Whether it's me, him or the situation, I am not sure.  It's just so hard not to drift away, me in my life and him in his life.  He doesn't seem capable of an honest to goodness conversation at the moment.  I don't know if counseling would help.  So here I am trying to share with someone how things honestly are, the raw painful emotions and the toll that loving someone with addictions can take.  I hope by sharing what reality is for me, that some how, it will help the people to start talking about the truth of their lives instead of hiding behind the picture they want everyone else to see.

Bullying....do you think it too will become a shame label?

I just finished reading the book 19 Minutes.  It's a novel written about a boy who shot students in his school.  I really liked how the author didn't try to demonize people in the story, but wrote from trying to help the reader get to know the characters and to get insight into their actions. 
A big theme is the bullying that took place toward the boy/killer.  We hear a lot about bullying from the media and the schools.  I missed the movie that was put out in the last year about the effects that bullying has.  I heard it was very moving.
  Last week, my daughter asked me if she could stay home from school so she could talk to her friend who is a victim of bullying.  Her friend told her that she has been cutting her wrists.  From what I understand, she feels harassed and unaccepted by students, peers and her family because of her sexual orientation.   My daughter, who has cut herself before in the past, wanted to make sure her friend knew she cared, even though she lives four hours away because she knows first hand the pain that one can be feeling when they cut themselves.  I let her stay at home, because, even though I know physically there is very little she can do to help her friend.  I felt that if she didn't do what little she could do for her friend, even if it was just texting and talking, if something happened, she would blame herself.  I could tell her a million times, it wasn't her fault, but I know she wouldn't believe me.  As a parent, I hate to see my daughter getting sucked into this drama, especially when we have so much drama going on in our own lives.  I want to protect my daughter, and at the same time allow her to do what she feels is the right thing for her. 
There are so many tough decisions in life.  For my daughter, would her friend be mad that she told an adult about what is happening?  Would she lose her friendship over this.  Do you ever feel torn between honoring what was told you in confidence, yet trying to protect someone from themselves?  How do you reach the parent of a child, who has moved since you left an area, and the only communication is texting or social media?  Who do you report it too?  Thankfully, one of her other friends told her mom what has been happening, so hopefully healing can begin.
I think that most of us, can recall times of what it felt like to be bullied.  Maybe some of us recall being bullies.  Probably there are a good many that fall into both categories.  I believe that most people who are bullies, probably learned the behavior somewhere.  If they didn't learn the behavior then I guess it's instinct.  Survival of the fittest.  Ever notice the natural hierarchy in the animal kingdom, and human civilization?  As much as we don't like to talk about it or admit it, there is a natural pecking order in society.  Upper class, middle class and lower class.  Jock vs nerd, babe vs geek, rich vs poor.
I remember having chickens and how the weakest chickens would get picked on by the stronger chickens.  It was so difficult to watch and you just wanted to run out punish the those mean, nasty roosters.   I also know that the roosters would attack me, before they would attack my husband.  Chickens are not as dumb as people would like to think they are.
My daughters are subject to bullying, especially my oldest one.  She truly marches to the beat of her own drum.  Adults love her, kids her own age, it's a little more difficult.  She, is like her mother, a little bit socially clumsy.  Lucky for me, I eventually went to a small church school and was spared bullying.  Unfortunately for her, she is in public school where he lying is pronounced.  Something to think about....when chickens don't have a enough space or food, the bullying behavior is intensified.  When they have wide open spaces so to speak and freedom to forage for their own food, the fighting lessens a great deal.  Do you think there is a lesson, we could learn from this behavior?  Cramming our children into overcrowded class rooms may be intensifying the bullying behavior, and the bullied ones have no where to go, so to speak.  It's just something, we may want to think about if we really want to stop this behavior.  Personally, I am all for changing our educational system. 
 When we moved, though it wasn't for the sole purpose to escape bullying, it was a factor in our leaving.  I remember last year, just after we moved in Feb. to down state NY, and she transferred schools, how she became the target of cruel facebook posts because she became friends with a boy.  Unbeknown to her, he had broken up with a girl, who now was ridiculing both my daughter and her friend. 
One part of me, wanted to react like a wild mom toward this girl and her friends. I am down playing how I really feel, but if you are a parent, you probably know how I was feeling...I did contact the school, facebook, the children and their parents on facebook with a private  message that was very calm and rational about what a horrible thing it was to be bullying others like this.  There was a brave girl who told her peers that what they were saying was wrong.  I commended her for being brave and going against peer pressure.   I also contacted my daughter's friend's mother and let her know what was being said about her son on facebook.  For awhile I had my daughter stay off facebook because, you don't need to let your child needlessly hurt themselves over and over again by reading hateful emails or messages.  I had to start limiting my facebook time as because I was becoming obsessive to a certain point.
I learned a little background information about some of the children involved in the bullying.  One of the boys who was an instigator, came from a separated home.  People who knew his family, talked about how his mom was an alcoholic and drug addict and that his dad wasn't very involved in his life.  It's sad.  I can get why he is acting out.  I understand the rejection and jealousy that the girl was feeling.  Though dating at the age of 11 is beyond me.  I don't think dating should be in any child's vocabulary until at least 15.  We may think our children are smarter and wiser than we were at their age.  I totally disagree.  They may have been exposed to more adult subject matters and may know more about technology, but they are still emotionally immature and are not ready to be dealing with these matters at this tender age. ( Even my daughters friend and her sexual preference.  I am of the personal opinion that she is a bit young to be worrying about whether she likes boys, girls or both.  Focus on school, grades, your childhood and worry about who you like in about another 5 years.  She will be amazed at the difference a few years will make.)
 I can understand why my daughter and her friend are easy targets.  They both are sensitive, mild mannered children who don't look like those children who you see on TV.  They are both a little chunky so to speak, don't have the coolest, greatest clothes.  (Don't let me get started on the clothes because I absolutely hate the style of today's, hip hugging jeans!!!!!!)  they don't have perfect cream and peaches complexion.  What they do have is a beautiful caring spirit, that won't be appreciated till they are older.
What I see as far as bullying goes is a multifaceted issue.  We live in a  society that bombards all of us with sexual messages almost constantly.  These messages confuse our children at a young age, making some of them vulnerable to being bullied.  I am not saying to bar or censor the media, but if we all make conscious decisions that we are not going to buy into their propaganda, things would change. Its that supply and demand theory that we learn about in economics. I like sex, its fascinating and feels good, but that doesn't mean that I have to surround myself with it every day.  There is a time and place.  I guess, my point is, change begins with us, individually.  If we want to change the direction this country is taking, we have to change the direction we ourselves are taking.  This is the same in our families.  We need make sure we modeling healthy relationships for our children.  Are we bullied by our spouses or partner?  Do we bully our children in some way, whether it be emotionally or physically?
What do we do with the bullies?  Should we make a bully wall of shame in the schools?  Will that help the bullies change?  I bet some people would think it would be a great idea.  Personally, I think that as tempting as it sounds, to shame the people who shamed you, I don't think its a healing solution.  How about support groups for people who have bullied?  Maybe if we met with other people who have been bullied or are being bullied, we could find empathy, understanding and unity.  Sometimes that is what the bullied person may need the most, understanding that they are not alone.
We can not depend on the government or our schools to fix the bullying.  We have to start with changes in our home and let it work its way out to our community.  Healing comes from inside.  It cannot be mandated by government.  Morality can not be mandated by our leaders.  We have to decide for ourselves what kind of people we want to be. 


 

A new start or running away..hmm

So many days, I feel crazy in my head.  I have a lot to figure out and don't know where to turn.  Often I can't figure out what it is that I should be doing.  I am tired tonight, so lets see how far I get.
Frankly, I am tired, tired of dealing with alcoholism, tired of being married to someone with the RSO label and how that makes me feel.  Tired, of not having a vacation, literally.  Tired, of being in debt.  I have been worn down by the constant emotional toil that life has taken.
I currently rent, but I know that my landlord wants to sell the house, and I know that I am not in a position to buy it.  I also fear that because I am now paying for health insurance, I will not be able to afford renting this house and will need to move.  The question is where to move.
Do I find a place around here to move into, so that my children can hopefully stay in the same school and have contact, however limited with their other brothers and sisters?  They also have aunts and uncles in the area.  Altogether, there is probably a good 20 family members around here between my family and my husband's family.  That is a major reason to stay.  They would like to stay in the same school as well.
 Chances are my husband will eventually return to the area, man up and face the court charges and quite possibly go back to jail.  He should stay in this state because if he does there is the possibility that he will come off the registry.  He is due to come off this June.  I don't know how it will play out since he has been running from his DUI, cps and the other stuff that he has been accused of , but currently not charged with.  Confusing, huh?  Is it better to stay here and deal with everything? 
I sometimes, get the strong desire to, lose my phone, pack up the kids and just leave this life behind, make a new start.  Can I really start over with all the baggage that  comes with being married and  having kids with a man?  It's a thought, but...would it be the best thing?. 
Still, when I daydream about moving, I think I would like to move to Houston, Texas area.  I have never been there; it sounds like an interesting area.  I like the idea of being where it's warm and near the ocean.  I love exploring new places.  The cost of housing, is cheaper than it is in the north east.  Texas has a stronger economy than this area and lots of jobs in my line of work.  Don't  you think, a new start, would be a good thing? 
My husband hates the idea of Texas because he believes that they are more apt to shoot you, or lock you up and throw away the key.  I don't think,it's a friendly state if you have a crimnal past.
Logically, the other place I should move to, would be near my job.  Ya, know, cut down on the commute, be home at a reasonable time.  It's still not so far away, that we couldn't visit family once in a while.  The big problem, is I am so freaking tired of NY state.  I can't wait to get away from it.  If my husband moves back to NY, even if after coming off the registry I think he would have to stay on the registry for another 20-30 years because we moved there while he was on the registry and got slammed with 20 additional years for NY state.  I think that that its totally unfair of how the states can tack on additional time when you have done your registry time in another state.  That definitely, needs to change.
I know a part of me, is wishing for a knight in white to come rescue me.  I know that is unrealistic.  I also know that realistically speaking, as much crap as I talk at times, I love my husband and can't see myself with anyone else.
The other big reason why I am so wracked with indecision is because I can't figure out, what does "God" (or whatever higher power there is) want me to?  Half the time, I am not sure there is a God.  If there is one, does he want me to continue to stay with a man who is so troubled or is he telling me to hit the road?  What "sign" is he giving me, that I am not listening to?  When bad things happen, is it just life and you roll with punches and carry on or is it something more than that?  Is there a purpose to his relapse?  They say everything happens for a reason. 
I was brought up to believe that when bad things happen, there are a few main reasons.  1) its caused by sin and or the devil.  If I did wrong, its because I gave into temptation.  2) if I am not being blessed, its because I am not doing something right, such as not paying tithe, not following God enough.  Now I don't confess to follow God, don't pay tithe, don't go to church.  Is all this stuff happening because I don't do such things.  I don't believe its the devil attacking me because I am messing up my life without his help pretty good.   I don't like using the belief in God, like a suger daddy.  If you follow him, then you get what you want.  That just doesn't seem right either.  3) One of the other reasons is that there is a purpose or reason.  God is trying to make you stronger for something else.  There is a lesson for your to learn.  If that is the reason, I am good with that too.  I just need to know what it is, I need to learn, so we can move on and get to the good stuff.
So today, my prayer is that if there is a god, please prepare me for your answer and remove whatever blinders that keep me from following the path I am supposed to take.  I don't think that I really mind what direction my life takes as long as its the path that I am supposed to be on.  I think that I would be perfectly fine to love my husband as long as that is the "right thing" to do. 
Like always, please feel to share.  How do you figure out what direction to take in your life?  How do you know you are on the "right path"? 
 

Prisoners of love: Some good food

Prisoners of love: Some good food: I know that I share a lot of negative crap.  I feel bad that what I share so often is negative or sad.  Unfortunately it is, what it is.  S...

Some good food

I know that I share a lot of negative crap.  I feel bad that what I share so often is negative or sad.  Unfortunately it is, what it is.  Some days it really seems like the glass is half empty. 
One thing good thing has come out of this situation.  I don't know how long it will last, but for now I will enjoy what I can.
When I was worried about putting food on my table because of having to pay for health insurance, so that cps cannot accuse me of not tending to my children's medical needs, I decided to call up a woman that I met last summer.  I met her and her husband at the local farmer's market.  They were selling csa shares.  CSA shares are local farmers that sell you portions of their crops.  Its a type of community agriculture.  I think it's a wonderful thing.  Some farms allow you to volunteer so that you can have access to the shares for a reduced price.  Now this particular couple were not able to offer that last year.  They do not have any government grants or funding helping them with their project.  They have what they are able to grow and then sell at the farmers market.  Last summer my husband and I bought a "share" in this program.  Every Saturday, we would go to the farmers market and pick up a box of fresh vegetables.  Some weeks we would have fresh potatoes and broccoli. Other weeks she would make home made bread and soups.  It was different every week.  Kind of like getting a care package every week and you never knew exactly what would be in it. 
It's not exactly the cheapest way to buy your vegetables, but it is probably the next best thing to being able to grow your own vegetables.  Let's face it, many of us are too busy doing other things to grow our own food.  Or you may live where growing your own food is impractical.  True, it's easy enough to go to the local grocery store and buy your fresh fruits and vegetables.  Nothing wrong with that, except that you don't know where your food is coming from, how it is grown and the money is going to a big corporation.  The other problem is if you are like me, when it comes to shopping, you get into a rut of buying the same thing over and over again.  You like corn, so you buy corn.  You like carrots, so you buy carrots. Rarely, do I venture out and buy things that I am not accustomed to.   When I got food from the csa program, I was given new foods.  Foods that I would not typically purchase for my family, like rutabagas, beets, and acorn squash.  Last summer, my children and I learned that fried beets taste good.  We also found that you can make radish chips.  Not that I did, but at least I thought about it.
Any way I called up Mrs. M and asked her if it would be possible to work out a way for my family to get fresh vegetables.  Would she mind if me and my girls would come work at her farm, helping plant crops and pick them in exchange for some of the produce.  It will help get us out of the house and outdoors, doing something productive.  Since I have no money to go anywhere now that my husband is gone and I have to pay for wicked expensive insurance, my girls and I are just sitting around the house sleeping and cleaning on the weekends.  They are watching anime 24/7 and I am reading books.  Not bad, but not great for the soul.  I was happy when she said yes, but then she went a step further than that.  She offered to come over during the week and help me prepare some meals ahead of time that can be eaten during the week.  This is fantastic because it gives me and my girls someone to interact with and breaks up the monotony of life.  It gives us something to look forward too.  For the first time in months my youngest child smiled and was happy.  She has been so sullen and angry since her dad has left.  It is heartbreaking because she was a energetic and  happy go lucky child.  Now she is becoming this stranger who finds comfort in the cold world of the Internet.  This situation has not helped my relationship with my children.  It has caused us to isolate and withdraw from each other.
The first time she was here, we made granola bars, soup, shepherds pie, meatballs, ham and scallop potato casserole.  The granola bars were a big hit with my oldest daughter and our dog as well.  My youngest daughter and I loved the soup.  You know, you can never go wrong with meatballs and spaghetti. 
This last week we made more granola bars, spicy cabbage soup (which is good for losing weight), bean and beef burritos,  yellow and green squash boats, eggplant parmigiana and pizza.  Her friendship and help these last two weeks have been a God send in helping to turn things around for me and the girls.  I can't say, that I am still not depressed at times.  I am.  I miss my husband so freakin much, that it hurts.  I want him back, but I know that I have to carry on and do right for my children.  I may not want to be present in life right now.  I may want to sleep and hide in a book, but I can't continue to do that.  It's time to face life on lifes' term and carry on.  It's things like friendship, a Higher power, a blog, the singing of birds, a good book, little things that help some of us to keep going.  These things are like food for the soul.
What keeps you going?  What brings peace to your heart when life has you twisted up inside?

I shouldn't be writing ....but I need to vent

I doubt that I should be blogging right now.  My heart truly is not in the right place.   I am blogging because I can't sleep. I can't get out of my head and I am sinking deeper into self pity.  I have spent the last hour and half trying to sleep and before that I was crying because things seem so desperate and unfair right now.  It's hard to feel optimistic when you feel trapped and like everything you love is slipping away.  Some of it is my own damn fault, some of it is because of my husband's actions and yet some of it is the actions of the state I live in.

Recap: My husband and I have been separated since Christmas 2012.  It's now going on 2 1/2 months.  Child Protective Services (cps) aka Department of children and families (dcf) came out the week after I asked him to leave and said he had to stay away until they say so.  He is gone, and on the run because he is scared.  Where he is I don't know, nor do I particularly want to know at this time.  The children have not seen him since their visit.
 We are a family, but only in the slightest sense presently.  It was easier when he was in jail because at least we could see him a couple times a week, if we wanted to.  I don't know if we would see him or not, but at least  it would be our decision to make, not somebody else deciding what we can do and can't do.
CPS came to visit again last week.  This time so they can begin their "treatment program."  They have decided that my husband is guilty of emotional negligence and the children are his victims and they must step in an "fix" this family.  What their treatment is going to consist of I don't know yet.  They haven't given me their "goals" yet.  What I do know is that at minimum they are going to visit the children and I weekly for the next 4 weeks and then 2x a month after that for 6 months.  If we are not meeting our goals or making adequate progress then they will contact the courts and take it to the next level.  Which I can only assume meaning they will begin the process of removing the children from the home. 
One of their goals already was that I obtain health insurance for us.  When this country first was founded there was no such thing as health insurance.  Life was a risk, so was your health.   While I have no disagreement with having health insurance.  I feel that it must be left up to the family to decide if it is appropriate.  For many families its a luxury they cannot afford.  I was able to get health insurance through my job, but it is going to cost me an 196.00 a week.  A 181 for the health insurance and 15 for dental insurance.  I had the choice to enroll in health insurance last year but I opted not to because financially it was too much.  I think it's cheaper to pay out of pocket when we need to see a doctor or a dentist if we need to.   We are not typically sick and when we do get sick, I try to use natural remedies or allow our bodies to heal themselves over time before running to see a doctor.  I think for the average family that has little health problems, a health insurance that is there for catastrophic purposes is more appropriate.  Sean Hannity and I are on the same page as far as our ideas go about health insurance.  A health savings account that would be available to everyone would be better than forcing people to pay for something they can't afford and may not ever need to use is foolish.  There is no reason why I should I pay 12,000 a year for an insurance plan when the most I may need to spend is 2,000.00 on medical expenses.  If this is a taste of what is coming with President's Obama's Healthcare plan, then we are in Trouble.  If anyone thinks that his national health care plan is  not going to affect you and your family and it will be easy to incorporate to you family finances, I have a feeling you will be disappointed.  One of my friends believes it is the goal of the government to have two classes of people, the rich and the poor.  The poor will be dependent of the government for all their needs.  The rich will be in control.  Scary thought....
What is your thought about health insurance?   How would you fix our heathcare system in this country?
 

A look at the past...which is stronger, nurture or nature?

My husbands father by adoption/uncle and his wife  as well as my step daughter and her boyfriend came over to visit last night.  My husband told his other children that my daughters have been lonely and feel like no one loves him since he left.  It was nice to have some visitors as the house has been very quiet since everyone left.  I know I wanted the drinking to stop and people to leave at a reasonable hour but wasn't looking for this drastic of a  solution.  Like they say be careful what you pray for.  It why for a long time, I didn't pray for anything when it concerns my husband and I because I generally don't like the answer.  I started praying again because the drinking and parties were getting out of control.   
The relationships on my husband's side are as twisted and mind boggling as any soap opera.  The truth is just as confusing.  Some days when I talk to his family, I feel like I should be taking notes so that I don't get things all mixed up..  Then again, they might ask why I am taking notes.  Do you think they would mind, if I wrote a book?  I don't know, some might be cool with it, others would probably be highly upset.  Not to mention, I am sure no one could agree on what was true or not. 
My husbands adopted step mother loves to talk and tell stories. Her stories are colorful and can be fascinating.   When you are with her, if you don't have much to say, then its perfect because she will do all the talking and she won't ask a lot of personal questions.  Instead all you have to do is listen, and listen and listen. 
Some of the stories she shares though hits home, how  addictions and sexual issues have permeated this family for generations, going back to the great grandmother on my husbands side. 
Just a little family tree on my husbands side.  When he was born, his mother was young, had no job and no husband.  She had a young child already, whose father apparently had died.  She was living with her parents.  Her dad told her "I am not raising another one of your children, either get a job and your own place to live and keep this child or give it up."  I guess my mother in law didn't really feel like she had much choice as she had no job skills and therefore no way of caring for this second child.  So the family decided the best thing for my husband would be for her brother to adopt him.  At least he would be raised by family.  They wouldn't tell him he was adopted, and his mother would be his aunt.  So that's what happened.  His uncle and his wife adopted him.  Then that marriage fell apart and they both remarried.  His adopted mom kept him instead of his uncle.
  His biological dad had been told that the baby had been miscarried.  Now whether his birth mother told his biological dad this or whether his aunt told his dad this is somewhat unclear.  According to his adopted step mom his aunt wrote his biological dad telling him that his birth mother was no longer pregnant, she had lost the baby, so it was no sense in coming back to town to marry her.  His biological dad also was expecting another baby or had a baby with some other women during this time.  Who that was or who that child is, I don't think anyone in the family knows. 
What a sad way to start life.  A dad who doesn't know you exist, a mom who is unable to care for you.  Given away, only to have that family split and a new family started.  It seems to me that as far as my husband goes, the odds have been stacked against him from the day he was conceived.
There were seven sibling I believe on his mothers side.  Six girls and one boy.  His mom and one of his aunts has passed away.  From what I am told the sisters of his family had quite the reputation.  They were pretty, friendly and willing, if you know what I mean.  Some people like to say that one of the sisters has slept with with every man in three counties. Granted, this opinion comes because that particular sister had an affair with somebody's hsuband at that time.  So the resentment and bitterness may cloud the story a bit.  
It's not surprising that these girls were wild and loose though, because then you hear how their father like to spend his time at the local bars and was known for being a "touchy feely kind of man."  "Lucky" for him and apparently his brothers, they lived in a day and age where such behavior was tolerated.  Its rumored that one of his brothers didn't care what age you were, you could be old or you could be young.   People whispered stories, but no one ever did anything.   Now in this day and age, this type of stuff will get you locked up for good or at least on a registry for life. 
 I didn't know any of this until after I had my own children.  At the time, when I met my husband, if you had told me this stuff,  I  still probably wouldn't have given two thoughts about these stories.  That's all they would be to me stories about other people.  I would never have thought about the implications they might have for my children.  I wouldn't  have said "Hey, wait a moment, if his family has these issues, he might have the same issues."  Now I wonder about the genetic component.  I kick myself for not realizing that where he comes from will affect who he is, even if he was raised differently. I wonder about nature versus nurture.  Can a loving nurturing environment over come genetic predispostion?   Will my own children carry the same legacy of not being truthful, of looking for love by sleeping with anyone who shows them some attention?  Based on the past,and the present nightmare that we are living, I am concerned, that it is highly possible. I am optimistic that it doesn't have to be that way, though.  I think that we can change the outcome if we are willing to talk about the past honestly without judgement and fear.  (check out the website sexualfuterist.com. I think they are on to something about honestly talking about sex)
Maybe by learning about the past, we can begin to figure out what steps to take to avoid the same future mistakes. Just maybe, if other people begin to open up about their family histories, we will see that, these stories I am sharing here, on not much different for other people.  Just maybe, we as a country will see that the registry is not going to protect us since most molestation happens from a family member or friend of the family.  Just maybe, we will see that its not that people are evil or predators, but instead have been broken for generations and need healing more than they need judgment and isolation.  I want to break the cycle of shame and abuse more than I want to be rich or have the perfect American life.  I want healing for my husband, his family, our family.  I want to find answers so that other families can find healing and peace.  I don't want to see other children growing up with the shame that my children are growing with right now. 
What about you?  Why are you reading this blog?  Is it because you have your story and are looking for answers?  What have you learned from your own life experiences?  What struggles are you going through?  Please feel free to share. Thank you for stopping by.  

What is the big difference?

I recently learned that my art teacher from kindegarten/first grade days has finally retired.  Thank goodness, as far as I am concerned she retired about 20 years to late.  I think she should've quit teaching art before I had the displeasure of ever being a student of hers.  I remember her clearly even though its been many years since I have seen her.  she was this big hulk of a teacher, with long black hair with streaks of gray.  I remember seeing her sit behind her black desk, with her boobs resting on the desk.  If you are a women, you know what I mean.  Sometimes it nice to just sit and rest your boobs and let something else support them because they are so heavy and cumbersome.  She used to do that a lot. 
When I was younger I was a bit shy and reserved, not much different than I am today,  hmm that is a surprise.  I was easily intimidated.  Hmm, not much has changed in that regards either. One day she was giving us instructions and I didn't understand what we were to do, so I did it wrong.  When she found out she told me I was stupid and the most untalented art student she had ever had.  That just about crushed me.  She may have been right, and the truth cut me to the core.  I believed her and to this day, I cannot paint or draw to save my life.  Even my stick figures are ugly and crooked.   I hate art class, I resented her and I never wanted to ever be in her class again.  I was very happy and relieved when my mother took me out of public school and put me in a small private church school. I shudder to think of how low my self esteem would be if I went to that public school for my whole childhood. If you think its' low now, what would it had been after 10 years of that kind of nonsence.
Fast forward 20 years later, I am raising my own family and have my own children.  My youngest daughter, since her dad was forced to leave us by cps, has been sad, angry, withdrawing, sassy, and just plain negative.  Its heartbreaking because she is usually loving, funny as heck, easy going and level headed.  Alot of her behavior I attribute to what we are going through as a family.  Some of it though I think is from school.  There is a boy there who for one reason or another has decided to pick on her.  Now I don't know if its because he likes her so he has to be obnoxious.  They are in 3rd grade .... Any how last night she was going on about how she didn't want to wear a jacket out side because a coat doesn't look right on her body and how she is so ugly.  Ugly is the last word I would use to describe her.  She takes after her dad and looks a little like the pocahantus from the disney movie.  It seems like he thinks she is ugly and she believes him.  Why we believe only the negative crap that other people say to us is beyond me, but most of us do.
Then I think back to the supposed worse events in my life, the ones that I imagine the counselors would say I am in denial about.  The ones that have made me whatever it is that I am today. The molestation I went through as a child.  When I was five and six I didn't have many friends that I remember.  I didn't live in a neighborhood where other kids were.  I am seven years younger than my sister because I was an "accident".   I didn't fit in school.  I wasn't exactly picked on by other kids, more or less ignored.  Can't say much as changed in that regards. 
In the small Protestent church I went to, there was a boy there, he was six years older than me. He had dark black hair and red cheeks.  His cheeks always looked red, but would get even brighter red when he was mad.
  He used to come and play with me after school.  We would play with matchbox cars in the mud, and he would push me around in a wagon, really fast.  I would steer it as we zoomed all over the yard.  In the winter we would go sledding.  He would make jumps or we would go over big rocks and fly through the air.  I had a lot of fun hanging out with him and since he was older, that made it even better. He was "cool" in my mind.   I don't think we did a lot of talking, just playing.  Sometimes I would go over to his house and we would watch fraggle rock or play some archiac video game.  This is the early eighties so we didn't have much for video games. 
I don't remember exact dates about what happened.  It all just seems to blur together.  I think one summer day we were bored and he wanted to go across the street where an old barn was.  I believe this barn used to be a part of a camp for kids, but I don't know  for sure.  It was abanoned.  I remember in the lower part of the barn, the basement like area, had  porn magazines down there.  My sister and brother showed me one time. 
I knew that I was not allowed to cross the road, that was off limits, but I let him talk me into it.  "Its  okay, you won't get into trouble, I will look out for you, your parents won't mind because you are with me."  So I went with him and that was when he did something, but whatever it was I don't recall because I blocked it out.  I remember him zipping up his pants and telling me to zip up my pants.  Nothing happened after that, we went home and played some more.  I was uncomfortable about the situation and curious about how I could "float away in my head" when something happened that I didn't like.  I find that fascinating. 
Time went by.  We never talked about that day or anything.  Winter came around, and he started to ask me to kiss him.  It was something I didn't want to do. I was never much of a kisser or a hugger growing up.  For what ever reason, I have always  had trouble showing affection for others.  Not that I didn't want to be able to give hugs and be loving, it has always been hard for me. Just like I would like to be friendly and outgoing but my fear stops me.  My fear keeps me from showing affection as well.  So him wanting kisses may have been an innocent thing.  I don't know.  It was nothing major, he just wanted little kisses on the cheek.  At first I gave them to him, but then he wanted more and he wouldn't let me go inside until I had given him a kiss.  One day I was cold and wanted to go inside and he was saying no you have to kiss me first.  I saw his mother and told her.  "he wont let me go inside unless I kiss him, tell him to stop, its not fun anymore."  Well that was the end of that friendship.  I don't know what kind of trouble he got in.  I don't know what happened, just he stopped coming over to play and afterwards he didn't have much to do with me, even when my parents started to send me to the same one roomed church school that he was in already.  I didn't understand why he stopped liking me. 
What I do remember is when I was in the third grade (that's when I switched from public school to the church school) he kept getting into trouble a lot that year.  The teacher would make misbehaving students do "air chairs" and not just for a few minutes but 30 mins to an hour.  That was probably a pretty painful punishment.  Sometimes he would also draw a circle on the chalk board and you had to stand on your tiptoes and keep your nose in that circle. I never had to be punished so I don't kow what it was like.  Finally one day he got fed up with the punishments and he climbed out the bathroom window.   I was pretty impressed how he managed to make it to the tree outside the window and escape, without getting hurt.  I never saw him or his mother again after that.  I believe the school board expelled him.  Years later just after my daughter was born I saw him again briefly.  I didn't say much to him because I was resentful that my husband was in jail for a sexual offense that was less than the stuff that I imagined happened to me and here he was at my sisters house like nothing ever happened. 
Some interesting similiarities between him and my husband.  They both have black hair.  They both were adopted and they both have been accused of sexual misconduct at some point in their lives.  They both showed me love and friendship and filled a void in my life.
So what happening had more impact on my life?  The art teacher or my childhood friend?  What hurt the most?  I can tell you that the art teacher is someone that I have disliked ever since that day in her classroom.  I am still angry about how she treated me.   My childhood friend, I am torn about.  I don't like what he did, but I regret how it ended.  I wish in retrospect that some adult could have seen that he needed help and knew what kind of help would be best for him.  I wish we had stayed friends at least for a little bit longer.  I wish I could talk to him today about what happened and ask why he did it, and why he stopped being my friend.   

Fairy tale love, what is that?

Most of the times I don't consider myself cold hearted or even a very bitchy.  Jealous...well that's a different story.  I do believe there are those who may disagree and probably do consider me a heartless, selfish, jealous, mean bitch when it comes to my husband.  I feel like people who don't know me and my husband when they see us together, probably wonder what is such a handsome man doing with such an ugly plain boring woman.   No, I am not saying that I am truly ugly, just plain and understated, average.  You would have too look twice to see that I am pretty in my own right.  You would have to take time to get to know me, before you would find out that there is more to me than you see on the surface.  (yes, I am aware that I need my head examined because I suffer from low self esteem and I need to correct this.. blah, blah blah)
My husband on the other hand, is the type of man, that women notice, and notice a lot.  Maybe it's because he is flirt and not afraid to make eye contact with others and then give them a big smile. When he is at his most  charming, he will make you feel like there is no one in the world for him but you.  He has the ability to sweep a woman off her feet.  Too bad reality is a bitch.
 He has always been blessed to have a body that attracts attention as well.I won't go into detail....but he has the most beautiful lips and his backside is nice too.   What people don't know is that behind the smiles and come hither eyes is a man who is insecure and worries way too much what other people think about him.  He carries with him a fear that people if they know the real him,  they will not like him.  So getting to know the real man, sometimes can be difficult.  I have been with him for 14 years and some days he still is a mystery to me.
I feel like I get judged a lot by other women because they feel I don't love my husband enough, show him enough attention, do enough for him, sometimes I am mean and nasty and it goes on an on.  My response to them...walk in my shoes and lets see if you last as long as I have.  Lets see how your love holds out.   Love someone who has been in and out of prison, is on the registry, has problems telling the truth, and is admittedly an alcoholic and drug addict.  Personally, I think sex addict should be added to the list.  Try to love someone and have your heart broken what feels to be a hundred times and see how hard it is to be loving and kind.  Tell me what disappointment does to your heart.  At least for me, the pain has changed me.  I feel like if you could take my figurative heart/love out of my body you would see it is scarred and has become tough and leathery.  A hurt heart does not love like an undamaged heart.  Whereas 14 years ago, when our love was young and fresh, I was ready to climb mountains and take on the world because I loved him so much.  In some ways, I have climbed mountains and do take on the world because I love him.  I'm just not as open about it.  I am not as easy on him as I was in the past because I don't see him with the rose colored glasses of young love.  Loving him is as they say for better or worse, in sickness and health...has been for many years for worse, and in sickness.  I think we had three months of beautiful, uncomplicated love.  After that the truth began to emerge and nothing has ever been the same.
Recently, he told me about how this woman from FB realized he was separated from me and called him, wanting to know if he would like to become "better acquainted".  I can tell you that I am jealous when other women make passes at him. It hurts. Not only can't I trust my husband completely, but I also can't trust other women.  I also think that as women we are too quick to get involved before we really know a person. 
 My husband knows he is free to go and be with someone else, if he doesn't want to be with me.  "Don't let the door hit you on the way out".  I promised him I would love him and be there for him, which I try to do to the best of my ability, but I am not such a glutton for punishment that I wouldn't let him go if that's what he wanted.  
I know when I get talking like this, people have got to wonder why do I stay if I sound so miserable.  Well, that is complicated in itself too.  My misery is only partial, other days I have the most beautiful life/husband/family.  We promised each other we would stay and love each other through "No matter what."  We are trying to keep that promise, though sometimes it feels way too hard.  I also know that for all his faults I have a good husband who loves me.  Granted his love is complicated and we don't live or love in a fairy tale fashion, but I believe its genuine.  I also believe that we all have our imperfections and inadequacies.  I know that I am not the perfect wife, far from it.  I don't dress or look like a Stepford wife.  I don't keep a perfect house, nor do I care to cook.  I don't have a body to die for.  (I wonder how come Hollywood marriages don't  last when they seem to have everything a person could want, money, looks, personality)  There is a long laundry list that I could name that makes loving me difficult.  I am pretty sure that we are all that way.  We all have good traits and bad traits.  None of us is perfect.  So whom am I to cast stones at anyone?
My husband for one, when he is around, does a majority of the housework.  We will clean the house together, but since he is faster, he ends up doing more.  He will cook meals and we all eat as a family.  Since he has left, rarely do the girls and sit down and eat as a family.  I think one reason is that its painful and too quiet.  When he is here, I know I feel safer.  Life though challenging, didn't seem quite some overwhelming.  Now that he is gone, it seems like one thing after the other keeps going wrong.  He would do little things that are easy to over look, but you miss when you no longer have them.  Having gone ten years with him gone, and then having him back again, I can tell you that I love having someone in the bed next to me to cuddle up next too, especially when you start to feel lonely.  It's one reason I would not want to marry a truck driver or a traveling salesman.
He may not have always given me as much attention as I craved, but I do know he gave me more attention than some husbands give their wives, whether it was talking with me, helping me, or desiring me or giving me permission to take care of my needs.  Something that I was taught not to do growing up. 
  He has been my for the most part my only friend for the last 14 years, though I am starting to develop other friendships.   I think that our friendship is the biggest thing that maybe keeps us together.  We love each other, we have each others back when no one else would and we have been best friends. 
There is an an analogy in the Al- Anon rooms, that if life was like a backpack and we could all put our backpacks in a pile and then go choose a backpack from that big pile, that most of us would end up choosing the same backpack.  I think that for me there is a truth to that.  I know our life is hard and some days overwhelming difficult, but I don't think I would trade it for any other life.
Sure some days, I would love that life on the beach, soaking up the sun.  Sure I think I would love to have a life with a butler and a maid, but what would the trade off be?  Would I have a husband who was gone all the time?  Maybe my husband wouldn't want me because he could have some young thing that reminded him of his youth.  Maybe another husband would shame me or push me around.  Maybe we would love each other and then I would lose him in some tragic accident.
 Just the children I have with him are a blessing.  I don't know how or why we were blessed with the girls we have.  They amaze me beyond words.  I can't imagine a better gift than the children we have been given and that includes my step children.  Despite having parents that come with a lot of baggage, all these children have hearts that are as open and loving as the warm summer sun.
So do you see, that there are just as many reasons to stay as there are to go?  So far I can't picture myself with another man.  I can't picture being able to love another man as much as I love my husband and visa versa.  Though I do believe a man could love me, it wouldn't be the same.  What if he was controlling or wanted a perfectly clean house?  What if he was uptight?    What if he had the same problems as my husband, then I would be jumping from the pot into the fire.  So for today, I stay with what I know.  If it's not meant to be, then I am sure it will change.  Life has a way of working itself out.
What about you?  What struggles do you face in your life or relationships?  What have you learned?  Why do you stay?  Why did you leave?  I know that as unique as my situation is, that its not completely unique and there are plenty of people in the world who can relate in some way or another to what I am going through.