Archive for the ‘Speaking Out’ Category

Returning to you all

December 15, 2014

I must admit, it feels weird to return to this.  When reading my old posts, I am struck by how much I left out, by what I decided to include, and by my apparent lack of spellcheck.  I am now a sophomore in college; it’s amazing how much time has passed since I made the first post.  I wish I could say that everything was better now that I have moved across the country and that I left my past behind, but as much as I wish that to be true, it isn’t.  I think one thing that is striking me is how different it is trying to find an open ear as a survivor instead of as a current victim.  I guess the good news update is that I got into my top choice college.  I became an EMT my first semester of college and am also an RA.  But I feel like I am digressing.  I want to update you all on all the good that is in my life now, but I feel like I’m lying when I do.  It isn’t that good hasn’t happened; it’s that the hard parts of my life now, ie coping with my past, are so hard to describe that I feel like I am painting a false picture when I go on about the good.

Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about telling people I don’t know about how I’m doing when I am not even telling many of my loved ones.  I would love to pour out all my feelings, but I am not nearly as good at that as I was in middle school when you met me.  I struggle to say what has happened to me and even typing the words “my father” is foreign and uncomfortably revealing to me now.  Thus, I will tell you this: I will try for both you and myself.  I feel that you all were there when I needed you, and you should get to see the person I have grown to be.  I also wonder if making myself type out everything will help me process it.  I am sorry this post is so vague; I figure that by reading my other posts you can probably tell what “it” is and who “he” is.  Maybe one day I will feel comfortable typing what happened to me out again, and maybe one day I will be able to say the words again without discomfort or shame.  These are my goals, and why I will type.


Happy? Who me???

February 23, 2010

When I was with my mom for the fifteen days after the hearing, I was happy. That might seem like not that big of a deal, but it is. I cannot remember the last time someone told me that I looked happy. But during those fifteen days I was told that repeatedly. I was shocked every time I heard that; happy and I are not used in the same sentence without a un or a not. I was laughing and it sounded real, because for the first time in three years there was not a hidden depression fighting it. I was not struggling to keep myself afloat in the quicksand of depression; I was walking on a bridge above it. I started to realize that although I was scared of the future and was worried, I was happy. This fact shocked me. I have never been a happy person. My imaginary friend committed suicide. When I was little I would stand at the top of the stairs, look down over the railing and think about how easy it would be to jump. The only thing that kept me from jumping was my mom. I knew that she would be devastated. I could never hurt her like that. Not a day goes by when I don’t think morbid thoughts of one kind or another. And yet in those fifteen days, no morbid thought entered my mind. I had no weight in my chest. I felt as light as a feather. I will look back on those days as the best fifteen days of my life, covered by fear and worry, but peaceful and happy. I have never looked back because the past was too painful the first time, why make myself live through it again, but these fifteen days I will hold in my memory forever, not look back on them but rather know that they were there and in the mist of the fire pits of hell on Earth, there is an oasis. I will always hold those days dear. I had believed that I could never be truly happy as the weight of my past would never allow it. Now I know that I was wrong and I will be able to be happy when this is over, or even sooner. I have not lost the ability to be happy.

Just when you think its going to be ok…

February 4, 2010

Of course our legal system is so corrupt and unjust you might just end up the one in jail punished for accusing the other. Your kids ripped from your arms because by trying to protecting them, you are alienating them and dangerous of course what else could be a logical conclusion? Oh and don’t forget trying the same thing that did not work three years ago again and the family is still trying to recover from it. Nevertheless, of course this time even though every aspect of it is the same, it is completely different, and it will work this time, of course. That is the difference between law and justice. THE LAW IS NOT JUST! They take kids from their caring, loving, responsible, archetype mom and give them to the abusive dad’s latest girlfriend, when the girlfriend will soon not be the girlfriend anymore. There are pictures of a naked woman on his phone. That is the “stable” environment in which they want to place the children. That is our legal system at work. Is that in anyway shape or form justice? Is taking a child, who has been following all the unjust laws, and telling her that because she does not love her father enough she cannot see or talk to her mom, justice? They have her come in to the court, sit down and then the judge starts talking; to the girl it is like a nightmare. The judge is far away and looking down on her making the decisions that will change her life. The judge starts to grow and get closer, and the girl grows slightly dizzy. She knows that any second now she will pass out unconscious in her chair. And she waits for unconsciousness to take her to a peaceful place, it never comes. Then the judge stops talking and the girl’s sister starts. Soon after that, the girl is sobbing and yelling at the judge. The sister storms out and the girl follows.  And with the step outside that room, she steps into her new life and as the door closes behind her, the possibility of turning back is sealed off forever. This story about the United States’ legal system is not uncommon. This injustice happens everyday in courts across the country. When well we step up and not take those unjust orders? Did that girl really need to go through it once to realize that it was wrong and that she could disobey the orders and try to change the system? When is injustice to much? Why don’t we protest all injustices? Why doesn’t anybody help the girl?


November 23, 2009

A lot of people don’t understand why people cut, so let me explain.  So, you know how when you have a twisted ankle you ice it?  At first, the ice hurts a ton, but then it numbs the pain and makes it so you can use your ankle again.  Cutting is the same, sure it hurts but the pain is soon followed by a great feeling of relief and then nothing, the pain is gone.  Then the next day you can be strong and get through the day again.


November 23, 2009

Just something I wrote about how “alienation” is used as an excuse not to listen to kids


You say my mom alienates me

And pay no mind to me

When I’m telling you that what I say is true

My father did hurt me last night

But you don’t care at all

You shrug it off as my mom’s fault

And tell me I have to be good

My father beat my sister last night

I could hear her screams

I cried because I could not help her

And could not block the screams

When I told you this, you told me to be good

And said that I could only see my mom if I did not tell a soul

I am still haunted by my sister’s screams

But you just shrug it off

As something, that my mom told me

And pay no mind to me

Dr. Doyne

August 14, 2009

Hi, i just realised that i had never mentioned that Dr Stephen Doynehas been our evaluator for our case.  My dad chose him of course. You probably know that when his credentials were investigated, they were found fake, and a cat has the same ones. He is one of the people who have kept me from my mom.  He recommended my current physicist, Dr Squire, who even though i have told her that my dad has hurt me, told the court that i had never said anything about him hurting me.


July 22, 2009

The short virgin of what has happened recently is…

I ran away to a woman’s shelter a while ago.  Polanski’s would not take me in and they called my dad to come and pick me up even though i told them about him.  i have not seen my mom since then, it has been about a month.  my sister would run away and go to my moms during the day.  My dad called the police and the very very short virgin is that she was taken to Polanski’s.  The next day she was realised to my dad.  The police have come a countless number of times because my dad keeps calling them.  I miss my mom so much.  I’m at a friend’s house now so i can get on for a little bit.

Father’s Day

June 21, 2009

My sister and I decided with our mom’s encouragement, to spend time at our dad’s today for Father’s Day.  When we arrived he wanted to leave immediately to get a DVD player.  I went upstairs to grab the card I had made him and to find my iPod.  I could not find my iPod so I grabbed the card, went downstairs, and gave it to him.  I asked him if he had taken anything from my room, and he said no.  I went back up stairs to look again; I still could not find it.  He came into my room and promptly told me what belongings of mine he would throw away.  I was rushed downstairs and into his car.  He was rude to me and I decided that I would get out of the car and walk home to my mom’s while still on the driveway.  I tried to get out but he kept driving.  He told me that he would take me to an emergency insane asylum.  At the second stop sign I got out of the car and started walking.  I went a little ways and then I saw that my dad had pulled over on the other side of the street.  My sister got out of the car and started to walk to my mom’s house.  My first thought was that my dad had dumped her on the side of the street because I had left.  When I caught up to her I found out that she had left just as I had.  She called Dave Schulman, so she would get to tell him the truth before our dad called.  Our dad drove to our mom’s house then circled around and followed us the rest of the way.  He kept following us as we reached our mom’s house.  We sat on the curb for awhile and then sat on the front step.  We opened the garage and then went in.  The door to the house was unlocked and partially opened, which was a complete surprise because it’s never even unlocked.  We went inside and my sister called my mom and I let in our dog.  Our dad was still outside in his car.  He finally left after my sister texted him and told him to and something else.  Right after my dad left, my mom came home. 

About Me

May 21, 2009

I was taken away from my mom by the courts over 2 years ago.  My dad is abusive.  My mom has done nothing wrong.  She just wanted to get my sister and my self away from harm.  My dad and my lawyer, dave shulman who has been complained about in many cases for being unethical and only wanting money, twisted my mom’s desperation in to parental alienation.  I know telling you this will not help me get back with my mom, and home, because i have given up on all easy solutions, but i do need to get my fealings out.  Please be nice to me, i am going through alot, and i will try to protect my mom’s, sister’s, brother’s, and my own idenity as much as i can.  Please do not ask my personal questions, i am under 18 and will not do anything that could harm my love ones.  Thank you so much for your time.

A Cry For Help

May 20, 2009

Friday started out like every other day, but that was not to last long.  I got drooped off at the upper school parking lot.  I walked over to my locker.  When I got to my locker I saw a man with his head in it.  The man was going through my stuff.  I ran to my locker yelling, “Get out, go!  What are you doing?”  As I got closer I realized that it was my dad.  I was so surprised.  Then I asked my dad what he was doing and he glared at me and said, “Looking for your brother’s phone.”  I told him, “It’s not in there” and “Get out!”  After that it happened so quickly I don’t remember exactly what happened.  All of a sudden my dad was dragging me by my wrist somewhere.  After all that my dad has done to me in the past I was not to keen on that idea.  I wanted to stay in a group of people.  So I started to struggle.  I tried to wiggle free, but I could not.  So I bit him on the hand he was grabbing me with to make him let go but he pulled away without letting go and jerked my arm with him.  I had my purse with me so I banged him on the head as hard as I could with it.  I then threw it behind me, so he would not steal it.  My dad then hit me on the head.  And then started yelling at me and hurting me.  I forget what happened next.  My dad picked me up and started to carry me.  A shoe fell off and my pance started to fall off.  I begged my dad to let me at least pull up my pance. But he refused.  He carried me to the office where he threw me onto the couch.  He walked to Mrs. D and I followed him.  I stood there helplessly while he twisted what happened to make it look as bad as possible to Mrs. D.  He showed her his hand.  I had left a bit mark.  All ready it was purple.  I was shocked.  I only meant to bit lightly to make him let go of me! My wrist was really sore where he grabbed it.  As soon as my dad left I started crying uncontrollably.  Ms D hugged me and let me sit on her stool.  She gave me two tissues.  Mme gave me my purse.  Mme then told me to remember mountain pose. (Stay strong, nothing can hurt you, you become stronger with every breath) two friends came in to the lost and found.  I gave them my purse and told them to hide it.  They agreed and then left.  My dad came back in and I stopped crying.  (As a rule I NEVER cry in front of my dad.  It shows weakness.)  Finally Mrs. M came.  My dad left to talk to her.  They were in there talking forever!  Finally my dad came out and I went in.  I was still kind of in “shell shock” so now I have no idea what I said.  I hope I did not sound to dumb.  All through out the day I would randomly start crying.  I got so many hugs. Some of the people that hugged me, I did not even know there names!  To protect the identity of a friend that helped me I well call here A.  During the school day A came up to me to comfort me.  I barely knew her.  She said she knew what I am going through and gave me advice.  At the end of the day I was told another friend that my dad was by my locker.  I started to panic.  I wanted to run and hid, but I knew that I could not.  I began to cry and then to hyperventilate.  A girl hugged me and yelled for someone to get Mrs. M.  I herd some one yell for someone to call the police.  I noticed my dad looking at me and on the phone.  I started hyperventilating harder and began to fell dizzy.  Mrs. M reached me a second before my dad.  My sister grabbed hold of my hand and walked me out of the protection of my friends.  Once we were out of hearing distance she stopped playing nice sister and started yelling at me, “What happened?  Why did you bite dad?”  Since my dad was there I said nothing.  My sister always picks the worst times.  On the way back his house, my dad to take me to the police and make me stay there over the weekend; I kind of liked that idea.  He then threatened to not take me to school on Monday if I “act up” over the weekend.  He then told me where I would be spending my weekend, in the downstairs bathroom.  Even to sleep!  I was not surprised.  I was in the downstairs bathroom for seven hours.  I was let out for a couple minutes to set the table for everyone else.  My dad brought me my dinner and then started to pat me down.  Always returning to my privets!   I was so shocked I did nothing for a couple seconds.  Finally I asked, “dad, why are you feeling me up?” He denied it and then said, “I’m checking for your brother’s phone” Then he left me to eat my gross diner in peace.  I was then aloud to come out of the bathroom and wash my dishes.  About one hour later I was aloud to do homework.  After I finished, had written a letter of apology, wrote “I will act appropriately” 53 times, and memorized how to spell appropriately, I was surprisingly let out.  I had been told that I would spend the whole weekend including nights in the downstairs bathroom.  I fact my dad had even already brought down my blanket, not a pillow though.  I think he let me out because he was afraid that I would call Mommy.  I just finished showering and I’m in bed.  Dreading tomorrow, another dad with my dad probably in the downstairs bathroom.