Lesson Learned

I feel blessed. I know that statement might sound a little silly or premature for anyone who knows the battle I've been fighting, but the reality is I do feel blessed and I feel compelled to share why.

I have friends. Many, many friends who care deeply about me and my children. I used to view myself as someone who had few friends and many acquaintances, but that's just not true. I have seen during this past year how many of the so-called acquaintances are actually true friends. So, to my friends, I say thank you for your continued love, encouragement, and support.

I have a great family who has been there as my safely net--catching me every time I fall or even slip a little. They really are amazing and loving people.

I have role models, though they probably wouldn't consider themselves such, they are the ones who have given me the strength to continue on when I have felt I wasn't strong enough to do this. They are (mostly) women who are currently or have in the past overcome huge obstacles and did it with an exorbitant amount of faith and courage. I admire these women and yearn to be like them.

I have a lawyer who is talented, passionate, and amazing at what she does--it's obvious why she is one of the best.

I feel blessed because no matter what the outcome of this will be, I believe I will be okay.

Court, although extremely painful at times, went well. I have come out on the other side of this believing that we did all we could do. And with that comes a small feeling of peace.

Court Detail:

First of all I have to set the stage. The husband is at the far left of the courtroom with his lawyer. The in-laws are also to the left with their lawyer. Then I'm on the right with my lawyers. The first two days I had two lawyers there working as a team (which was pretty cool to watch how well they worked together). Then the last day it was just me and one lawyer. I looked overpowered because of the sheer number of people opposing me. It would have been intimidating if I didn't have truth on my side and believe in my attorney.

Both opposing attorneys are the antithesis of mine. While mine is energetic, theirs are somewhat lethargic and slow. Mine is strong and determined, theirs are passive with, seemingly, no agenda. Mine is happy and positive, theirs are plastic and somewhat gloomy even when they smile. Mine is succinct when she speaks, theirs fumbles around for words. Mine seems to embody everything you picture a good lawyer doing, while theirs you end up wondering how they ever made it through law school and why they chose this career. It's such a stark contrast.

The first day in court was our day to present witnesses and our evidence. I was on the stand for a good 3+ hours. Not my funnest moment in time, but not my worst either. I felt like it was going well until cross examination. Then it was like trying to convince someone to believe you when they've already made up their mind about your guilt. It's awful and feels like a bad dream that you want to wake up from.

His main points seemed to be that I signed the relinquishment, end of story. That I was a willing participant in my husband's deviant sexual behaviors and that I was under no duress at the time of relinquishment. What he clearly couldn't see (or didn't care to point out) was that duress is accumulative and that I was being forced to participate (and LIKE it) or my husband threatened divorce. If I didn't behave as he wanted me to, then he would divorce me and take my children. That was always the threat. Their lawyer also tried to say that because there was no physical abuse that abuse didn't happen.

The next day was just as difficult because I had to sit there, listen, and try to digest a copious amount of lies. Even my father-in-law wasn't completely truthful. That surprised me, but I kind of understand--he's been living with 2 manipulators and liars who have been feeding him the lies for over a year now, so he probably believes what he is saying. Who knows?

One of the other witnesses they called was a bouncer from a strip club my husband made us go to. He was truthful, but not really helpful to the opposition's case. I had already stated that I had been to clubs with my husband because it was a requirement. So, his testimony was nothing short of a waste of time. Except that in cross examination my lawyer asked if he had ever seen my husband there by himself. His answer was, 'Oh, yes!' It was pretty funny.

The third day was last Thursday. It was still the oppositions turn to finish up witnesses. So, that left the mother-in-law and the husband. We knew it would be a long day just because of who was on the stand!

It's amazing to me how good of liar my mother-in-law is. She can spout off any lie without a second thought, she can talk enough to turn the question around and never actually answer what was asked, she has this uncanny ability to appear creepily friendly, but slice you with her words. I shiver just thinking about her. My lawyer found no reason to cross examine her because she's not credible and won't be truthful and will just waste time in the process of trying to get a real answer out of her.

So, all that was left was the husband. I learned a few things about myself from his testimony. As shocking as these things might be, I hope you all will get a laugh out of it and hear my sarcasm even as I write this list of things I discovered about myself (these are all the things I can remember that I had never heard before...I'll leave out all the ones I had heard over and over again in my marriage):

He said--when I was pregnant with Bethany I wanted an abortion.

He said--I faked a miscarriage to my sister, Bekki, because I wanted to keep my options open.

He said--we only moved to Boston because I didn't want to live in Utah (true, I didn't want to live in Utah just up the road from his parents or worse with his parents!), it was just a coincidence that Harvard happened to be in Boston, so he got to attend his dream school.

He said--I wanted and asked, on several occasions, for the adoption because I didn't want to be a mom and I couldn't handle it.

He said--I had sexual addictions and he was lucky that they just happened to be things he liked and was into, too.

He said--I wasn't a virgin when I got married, but that I had had multiple partners and sexual encounters.

He said--I had viewed porn frequently before I got married (good grief! I didn't even know what porn was exactly before I got married. I knew what it was NOT, but I didn't know what it WAS. Naive, but true).

He said--I, frequently, threw things at him and at my kids. He cited me throwing cereal bowls and cereal at them (just a word of clarification: I don't eat cereal and neither did my kids because they didn't like it. We rarely ever had it in the house. So, the likelihood of me actually throwing a cereal bowl is pretty bleak).

He said--I yanked, pulled, kicked, bit, spanked, slapped, and hit my kids. And that I told them often that they were worthless and that I hated them. (Anyone who has seen me with my kids knows that this just simply isn't possible--though I do have to say, I did try spanking, but my kids just laughed at me. It was completely non effective, so I turned to more positive methods of discipline).

He said--I, frequently, was yelling and screaming at him and the kids (more on that point later).

He said--I suffered from extreme postpartum depression after I had Bethany--(His self diagnosis. I never saw a doctor because I felt fine)

This list is longer, but I think these are the ones that shocked me the most. However, the words that came out loud and clear were the words unspoken--even my lawyer picked up on it. That he was so utterly PERFECT and accepted no responsibility for anything that had transpired during the marriage because he was the quintessential ideal husband--no faults, no issues, no problems with him at all.

The highlight of the day came while my lawyer was questioning my husband. He was becoming flustered and she was becoming very passionate about what she was saying. He then declared, "Stop yelling at me!" I almost laughed out loud! My lawyer retracted momentarily and apologized for, perhaps, sounding like she was yelling, but reiterated that she was not. Even the judge said, "I don't think she was yelling at you." Haha! It's only funny because of what he had been claiming: that I frequently yelled and screamed at him the kids. Well, if he thinks that yelling is what my lawyer was doing, then it's pretty clear that his and his parent's definition of yelling is drastically different from reality!

Then in the middle of the opposing counsel's (boring, long winded) closing remarks it started raining outside, then thundering, then hailing and lightening-ing. We were on the top floor of the courthouse so it was so loud and deafening. I thought that the roof was going to cave in and lightening was going to strike them all down--perhaps, that was just wishful thinking. The timing of that hailstorm couldn't have been more perfect.

The last thing I wanted to add regarding this trial. It was long, tough, and very grueling. But I learned something so critically important during this process. And I learned it on the very last day in the very last hours of court.

I was watching my lawyer give her closing remarks. She was so poised. She was articulate. She was calm and collected. She was prepared. BUT she was animated and passionate when she spoke. There was nothing passive about her. I wouldn't call her aggressive because that's too manly of a term and she is anything but manly. And I thought to myself, "wow, it's okay to be like that. It's okay to be passionate. It's okay to be articulate. It's okay to have an opinion and defend it. It's okay to be a woman who knows her own mind. It's okay to be confident, self assured, and to have a career you enjoy." This was revelatory for me because for 5 years I was told it wasn't okay to be who I am. It wasn't okay to have moods. It was a bad thing to be too happy or too sad or too angry or too frustrated or too passionate. But I saw in those last few hours of court that it WAS and IS okay. Not everyone is going to like me, but it's still okay to be me.

As for the outcome of the trial, we will have to wait. The judge has 60 days to make a ruling, so I'm not expecting a decision before then. We've done all we can do to this point and it's out of my hands. I now have the test of sitting back and trusting in the Lord and that truth will prevail.

The Whole Fam Damily

My brother Kristoffer's birthday is today. He would have been 35. A grown man. What a crazy thought!

When Kris was 4 years old, he got cancer--Leukemia. Devastating news to any parent. Though, to me, I grew up with his illness and so it was normal. He lived a short time but influenced many people for good during that time. He went into remission 7 times before he died 13 April (Good Friday) when he was only 13. I was 12.

It has been years since I remembered and celebrated his life. I suppose I have been too busy living or, more accurately, I made myself busy because it has always been too difficult to celebrate his life. So, I'd like to honor his memory by remembering and thanking my family, of which he is still considered a part.

I have a family; a wonderful, crazy, messed up, loving family! They are not perfect, but they are there for one another. And like a piece of old tough fabric, intricately woven together over time--this family has become beautiful, strong, determined, and steadfast. They are immovable. And I have to remember that it was this family, my family, who caught me, cradling me to safety, when my world came crashing down. They were my saviours...still are.

By modern society's definition, I have a large family. By Utah's standard's, it's a medium sized one: Mom & Dad, 8 kids, 12 3/4 grand kids. And when we are all together, (which is rare), it borders on resembling a chaotic musical, complete with our own theme music and voice over narration.

That, we can all agree, is Mom's doing. We are all musically inclined, thanks to her and her ability to use (sometimes) not so gentle persuasion to get us all to sing, play the piano/instrument, or, at the very least, to whistle a tune without modulating into a different key. When we were little, she had us singing and performing all over the community, often while wearing Raggedy Ann and Andy costumes! So, there was just no point in resisting the musical gene. (Pictured is Bethany playing dress-up at Grandma's house, in our old costumes).

My dad, on the other hand, has always claimed he must have been out playing in the fields when the talents were divvied out and, therefore, missed out on any such musical ability. While, I don't believe he's lacking in the talent department, I do think that's why he married my mom. She was soooo beautiful, had the voice of an angel and possessed more talent in her little pinkie than he thought he'd ever have in a lifetime.

We lived on the lower end of the middle class spectrum. Mostly this was due to the fact that my parents decided to have as many kids as God would bless them with and to make the sacrifices necessary to allow my mom to stay home with us while we were young. (This example set the stage for my belief and desire to sacrifice luxury to become a stay at home mom, myself. This was subconsciously ingrained in me as the ideal, so, I strove towards that goal at all costs).

It's easy to get lost in a large family, but I think all individuals, who grow up with siblings, know that everyone has their own unique place in the family. My family is no exception. These are my perceptions: My oldest brother was the talented one: musician, actor, playwright, director, (even if it was only for pretend on the playground) and we mustn't forget, he was THE boss--our moral compass to condemn or condone our actions. My oldest sister: the beautiful one and the ring leader--if she decided it was worth doing, we all followed along. My second oldest sister: the peacemaker and the crafty one. My older brother (Kris): the entertainer and jokester. Me: I was, simply put, the middlest (all that that implies) and I was known as Happy Jacq. My younger brother (Joey): forever the baby. My youngest sister: the compassionate one and 'the shimmering glowing star in the cinema of firmament!' My youngest brother: the easy going trumpet player who every one of us love, admire and adore.

Not a whole lot has changed since then. The major difference is we grew up and I don't think we see each other as ONLY these things anymore. Though, I think it does takes us by surprise sometimes when THE boss no longer tells us what we should be doing, but rather, listens and sympathizes. Or when the compassionate one takes a firm stand, demanding justice instead of mercy. Or when when the peacemaker instigates an argument and fights to the death. Or when the beautiful one doesn't think she is stunning. Or when the happy one...well, isn't laughing anymore.

Through the years, my family has stuck together and supported each other during very difficult times. I knew this from past experience, so, it's surprising, looking back on it, that while I was in my marriage and was isolated from these friends, I began to believe I had no one on the outside that cared for me. I believed my family was my enemy. That they were disappointed in me and the person I had become. I believed that if I left my marriage, I would be labeled 'the divorced one', and therefore, I wouldn't be accepted, but would be shunned. I truly believed I would have no where to go and I would be a single mom alone.

What a sense of relief and enpowerment I have felt, as my life came crashing down around me breaking into a million little pieces, as I have found out that I'm not alone, but am surrounded, held up, and sustained by my family.

Thank you, family!

Postponed and Divorced.

I entered court last Tuesday with a certain expectation that our case would be heard. I exited court last Tuesday with an unexpected delay and an unexpected surprise.

The Delay: Our court dates needed to be rescheduled. So, Tuesday's and Friday's court dates were cancelled. Unfortunately, the next available dates, when all parties involved would be able to be in attendance, aren't for another month. Bummer! (That word doesn't do justice to how I feel about another delay, but my vocabulary is at a loss.) The new dates are 15 & 18 July 2011 and 4 Aug 2011.

The surprise: Our wonderful judge ordered the divorce to go through! It will be finalized within a few days. Everything else relating to the divorce is in abeyance until the case is heard. I would venture to shout, "I'm free, at last!" But without my children, I do not feel free and I, certainly, don't feel much like celebrating.

This week has found me to be in such a lugubrious mood until I met someone today who had a very refreshing view on life. I couldn't help but absorb some of his energy and viewpoint. Everything this stranger said and did had a positive spin to it--not in an annoying, that-person-is-way-too-happy kind of way, but, rather, in a very real and tangible way.

There was no pretense or facade he was trying to wear. It wasn't a mask. It was just the way he saw things. And just from one brief conversation, I could tell he lived every day and every moment of his life viewing the world through these tinted glasses.

After this brief encounter, I found myself wanting to view life and my current situation a little differently. Although I would love to say I will forever and from this day forth become a person who exudes positivity with every breath, (I love the thought of that), I am too much of a realist to believe that I could change that quickly or that intensely in such a short amount of time. And I fear, if I tried, I would come across as pretending. So, instead, I'm opting to find a happy medium between the sad realities of life and the happily-ever-afters I want.

Mother's Day

Mother's Day sucked! End of story.

I have to admit I was elated it was overcast and rainy! The brooding clouds fit my mood. If it had been bright, sunny, and cheery, I think it would have, easily, been catalogued as the worst-day-ever. But with the bleakness of the weather I felt, at least, God understood my plight and had planned, accordingly, for rain. So, while it was not my favorite day, it wasn't my worst.

I had planned to, dutifully, attend church, but as I drove into the parking lot, I was struck with the realization I couldn't face the endless praise of Motherhood that would certainly ensue upon my entering the chapel. In my current state of selfishness, that would be too much for me to handle. I decided being alone, completely alone, would be the best course of action for me. So, I turned around and headed back home to spend a day in the solace of my garden.

Unfortunately, I had been planting flowers for a measly 15 minutes before the downpour started. Looking up into the gray sky, I stayed, soaking in the big, wet raindrops. The rain quickly blended in with my salty tears and I sat there crying for what seemed like a millennia. For the first time, I didn't care what my neighbors were thinking. I didn't care what people driving past might be thinking. All I could do was sit there wallowing in self pity while the rain poured down around me and crying because I missed my children; I missed being a mom. For an entire year, that has been taken from me and the weight of that is unbearable to handle alone.

My entire day was like that. No, I didn't sit in the rain for the entire day, but I felt like doing that. Instead, I drove around aimlessly and allowed myself to feel sorry for myself. Probably not the healthiest thing to do, but I think it helped me. I think it helped to mourn what I've lost. I have lost a year and I can never get this year away from my children back. That, in my opinion, is a loss to truly mourn.

I can see clearly

To all abusers and manipulators out there in the world, I just have to ask: Why do you do it? I know some of the answers to that, but I just had to throw that question out into the cosmic abyss.

I got another email from my husband yesterday. Interestingly, both my Dad and brother-in-law, Joel, had premonitions just this past weekend that he might try and make another attempt at fixing our broken marriage (controlling me). They were right, he did.

I will save you the gory details of the lengthy and quite wordy email and just give you the tidbits of info that are quite telling of his nature. It was the same old rhetoric: Jacq, you're broken and sick, you single-handedly ruined our marriage, you are abusive and neglectful, I don't trust you, the girls don't trust you, and my parents don't trust you...BUT I still love you and and I will sleep better at night knowing that I am continuing to try to reconcile our marriage!

The best part, (do you hear the sarcasm?). He says, only he will be the one to decide if and when I adhere strictly enough to the conditions he sets out in order for me to see my children. He claims that because he no longer trusts me, I will have to prove that I am good enough, well enough, obedient enough to see my children. Also, that I'll need to prove this to his parents, but he won't guarantee that they will ever drop the adoption case because that's in their hands not his.

Who is he to decide whether I am trustworthy enough to be with my children? While I am fully aware of my imperfections as a wife and mother, (I don't pretend to be the epitome of perfection, never did and never will--I'm much too aware of my own flaws), I know I am a good, fun, kind, and loving mom. I make mistakes. That's one thing I know will never change! So, I know that I will never be able to become trustworthy enough for him. The bar he and his parents measure me against is set too high. It's unrealistic. I cannot achieve perfection all the time, in every situation, and with every mundane task I'm required to complete. I couldn't do it in the marriage and I know, moving forward, those requirements are impossible. That, my friends, is the crazy making! Feeling like being a normal functioning human being isn't good enough.

On top of that, I just have to ask, in what realm does his wanting to reconcile our marriage even makes sense? Do people who are healthy (emotionally) knowingly seek to be with someone they are claiming is sick and abusive? I don't think so. Hence, my interpretation of his email was: Jacq quit it out. You are not obeying me. This was not in my plan! This is my attempt to control the situation that has exploded into chaos. And I am manipulating you to try and get what I want. I will threaten you. I will lie. I will expose you. I will ruin your life, if you don't shape up and do what I say. BUT if you do conform, then I will lovingly take you back--however, you still won't have your children!

So, it has become clear to me that I am a lot healthier than I was a year ago. While I am still fighting the effects of living in an abusive marriage, I can now see so clearly the manipulation and lies and I want nothing to do with it. I'm simply done with it. And as Ben Folds sings, "Bye, Bye, I tried. I've landed."

Thing. Just things.

I never realized just how hard it is to live without my things until I didn't have anything except, literally, the clothes on my back, a couple of changes of underwear, and some basic makeup items.

You see, I took very few things with me the day I left because I believed I would be able to come back at any time and pick up the rest of my belongings. After all, my husband did convince me to just separate temporarily. He said, "Don't tell your family about the divorce. Don't get a lawyer, yet. Just wait it out, ponder and pray about it and then we'll meet back together at your next therapy (in 5 days) appointment. At that time, we can then discuss divorce or reconciliation." Why he was planning on attending MY therapy session is a story for another day. The point is, I left the house that day without my most of my things.

To be completely honest, I don't have very many things, though. I've never had a plethora of money to spend frivolously and I've never been someone who hordes junk. In fact, I regularly (every year actually) go through my storage boxes. I toss out anything that hasn't been used or looked at during that year and I throw away any paper or gadget that has lost it's sentimental value to me. I do this because 1. I hate clutter 2. I see no point in keeping something that isn't being used. 3. Very few things hold enough sentimental value to me to keep around.

Don't get me wrong, I do adore gifts from other people. It makes me feel loved and wanted. I remember every gift I was given, from every person, and when I received it. The reality is, very few items make it to the keep-forever-and-a-day pile.

I understand there are a lot of people who just can't, no matter what, get rid of anything because everything, it seems, has strong emotional ties. I get it, I tolerate it, and I usually don't even mind if other people do it. I just never have been like that. So, after I was served divorce papers (at my therapy appointment) and was forbidden from entering into my in-laws home to retrieve my things, I was somewhat mystified when I realized how attached I had suddenly become to my things. And I found an extreme loss at not being allowed to retrieve them.

My family, thank goodness, helped me out by restocking my personal hygiene items, gifting me with an occasional piece of jewelry, and taking me out to buy a few new articles of clothing every now and then so that I would have some basic necessities. But after only a few short days of being without, I found myself longing for my closet full of shoes. I missed my piano, books and sheet music. I longed for my P90X DVD set. Daily, I grumbled under my breath that I had no running shoes, multiple outfits to choose from, and sadly, I even pined after my home decor, even though I had no home of my own in which to display it. I realize this was silly, yet it's how I felt.

Well, last week (almost a year after I left) my old things and I were reunited once again. What a happy reunion! I had a entire trailer load of stuff my husband was claiming to 'give back' to me. I must say, I was somewhat disappointed at what I found while sorting through these things. Only about 1/4 of everything located in the trailer was actually mine. Some of it I recognized as items belonging to my in-laws (junky dinnerware, utensils, goblets, shelves). Some where things I knew belonged to my husband. And some I had never seen before in my life. Some items, actually, still had prices tags from a thrift store attached to them. It was as if they had cleaned out an entire room full of junk and pawned it off on me, in a hope that they could claim they split our assets evenly. Incredible! And ridiculous! What I found even more astonishing, was that not all of my possessions made it back to me.

Like I said before, I really do remember every gift that was ever given to me. So, while I am happy beyond belief that I now have a choice in which shoes to put on, I am acutely aware of the glaring fact that I am still attached to those other things I didn't get back.

Why her?

I recently learned that an acquaintance I went to high school with, just left an abusive relationship, too. She lasted over 10 years. As we sat talking I felt myself relating to her sad, depressing tale, the abuse she endured, and her current view of herself. Yet, while we were talking, a question plagued me, "why her?" She seemed to have everything going for her. She is strikingly gorgeous. She oozes self confidence (at least she seemes to), she is so musically talented. She comes from a fantastic family. Looking at her, it just didn't add up.

Now, I don't pretend to know exactly what her feelings are or what it was like for her, but I could relate to the words she used to describe what she went through and the questions that she was asking mimicked my own almost word for word.

The question I most identified with and needed answered was: why us? What was it about our own selves that made us attract some guy who would abuse us...and what was it that made us not see the abuse and stay so long in the relationship?

That question has plagued me, elluded me, baffled me.

Waiting. I hate waiting.

It's said that patience is a virtue. It appears it's a virtue I haven't mastered, yet. I believe I'm capable of it and I'm sure God is pretty set on allowing me to take the longest road possible to get there!

My deposition, that was scheduled for last month, never happened. It was cancelled. The opposing side decided they wanted to attempt mediation first. Ironically, my lawyer was in favor of this, too and thus, cancelled the deposition.

Mediation did take place last week. I was thrilled to have it over with, but not so thrilled with the outcome. It was a bust. No compromising. No settling. Nothing accomplished except a check mark in the box on the way to trial. The in-laws (or out-laws in this case!) blatantly said they showed up only to see if I was willing/ready to let them proceed with the adoption, unhindered. "Just trust us," they said. At that moment, I saw flashes of the snake off from Disney's, The Jungle Book, with his hypnotic eyes spinning while chanting to Mowgli, "Trust in me...trust in me...." all the while preparing to devour him in one bite. Glad I can see the snakes in my life, now. That's an improvement from the last 6 years.

As for the husband? He showed up without his lawyer. He was burdened with gifts meant for me; an enticement to reconcile, I suppose because every other word out of his mouth was about reconciling (however, only if I allow the adoption to go through). A little creepy, I know! Yet, there he was. I found out from the mediator what the gifts were and realized they were things that were already mine, so I accepted them as he was just returning my belongings to the rightful owner. I, then, put a big, loud, *KIBOSH* on the whole reconciliation idea.

A court date was scheduled for 2 May 2011. Yesterday I got word that it's been cancelled due to my husband claiming he has finals that week, not even that same day. Am I to understand that he is not capable of doing two things in the same week? I have to admit, I wasn't blindsided by this stalling tactic (it's been used frequently in the last 10 months), yet I am frustrated and upset. I would love to be able to take the ups and downs in life in stride--perhaps, I'm better at it than I think. But when it comes to facing another 2 months, (at least!), without seeing my kids...I'm not so patient.

Tolerance

I have this friend. He is amazingly talented. Fun and funny. Relaxing. Accepting. He has great perspectives on life. He treats me like gold. I have the deepest love and respect for this guy. And yet, to look at him, one might cross to the other side of the street. I mean he is big and strong. Very tough guy-esque. Think biker--goatee, tattoos, studs, I don't know about the leather, but he could pull it off.

I had a conversation the other day with my sister. It was a discussion which ensued after I had had a brief falling out with one of her children--I had (erring-ly because I'm not the parent) calmly told this child that it was unacceptable to make fun of or judge anyone. My niece was distraught and troubled because she didn't think what she had said had been offensive. In her mind, she was stating a truth--her truth.

During the chat with my sister, we contemplated how to teach children tolerance without them losing their own core values. How do you learn to accept without condoning others' choices or emulating their lifestyle? I had never thought about how to teach this concept. I assumed it was something that was either inherent or something you learned by observing someone else's behaviors. So, to me it was simple, if she wanted to teach her kids to be tolerant then she, herself, should just be tolerant; her children would follow. She claims she is doing that and for her boys that worked, for the girls it didn't. She illustrated that children see it as a contradiction: why is it okay for you to do something and for me to tell you it's okay to do it, but it's not okay for me to DO the same thing.

I have seen children do this all the time. My girls were wearing cute little sun dresses last summer. They went upstairs to play with some cousins and I heard one of them tell Bethany, "why are you wearing that? It's immodest." Good grief! She's 3! She could've been wearing just underwear and it wouldn't have breached any modesty lines. But as I've thought about that, this child was just noticing the differences in boundaries--Bethany can wear a dress like that, why can't I?

I have found over the years, tolerance is one of my strongest characteristics. I was open and accepting of anyone. Didn't matter who you were, what your station in life was, where you've been in your journey in life or what choices you've made, I accepted you and would welcome you as a friend. So, I found wherever I went, I would meet a variety of people and have a fun time in the process. I didn't change my core values to do that. I was still me. I still believed what I believed. I still acted the same.

I found an alarming weakness in tolerance, though. In my marriage, why did I choose to stay after I, initially, found out about my husband's porn addiction and sex addictions? Well, not only did I not believe in divorce, but I loved my husband. I wanted him to KNOW that I loved him no matter what. I would stay with him through his issues and I would hope that he would work them out on his own and in his own time. I had faith in him and believed in him. So, I was tolerant. I didn't know that being tolerant of an addiction isn't always the best thing to do. I didn't know that my tolerance was enabling him to justify his actions and that it would become a slippery slope of entrapment. And that I would be pulled down into his own private hell.

What comes next?

So, I just wanted to include a brief update on the current court case. Absolutely nothing happened in December! Why? I have no idea, except perhaps, everyone decided to take a month off for holiday. I wish my emotions could have done the same thing.

January passed by relatively quickly. My husband and his folks finally showed up for their depositions (hours of questioning done under oath) and my lawyer said it went well. I don't know what that means exactly because I chose not to go. There was really no reason for me to be there except to look them in the face while they lied. I guess that could have been fun, if I got my jollies from that sort of thing. However, I did get a copy of the depositions, but I couldn't make it through the first few pages, so I stopped reading. But the good news, my lawyers came away from that interlude with renewed faith in me and a belief that we have to get my children OUT of this mess...meaning they didn't buy into all the lies and manipulations. I'm relieved.

My deposition will take place this Friday. I'm not as nervous as I thought I would be, but it's still Tuesday, so I have time to become a big ball of stress. (Which for everyone who knows me, knows this will happen! So, there's no use denying it.)

After that, who knows what will come next. I know there is mandatory mediation, then an evidentiary hearing, and then it should go to trial. I don't even have a guess at a time frame. I wish I could say it will all happen this month, but I don't think I can be that optimistic. I think I can safely say, within a year!

My hope: a MIRACLE.

It's not your fault

Over the last 8 months I have experienced things I didn't know I could handle. The worst part about challenges, for me, is when they never resolve and new ones come anyway. Pretty soon, I find myself unable to organize the life around me. It's utter chaos and seemingly, unmanageable. Yet, somehow, I survive. And I'm finding, I'm handling things better. So, perhaps, there is a method to all this madness. Maybe God knows I'm stronger than I think.

I have been reading this book on the Atonement of Jesus Christ. It poses an interesting thought. That there are degrees to which one is accountable and thus, degrees to which one is saved by grace. It argues there are outright sins which are committed; things you believe and know to be wrong, but you do them anyway. Then there are choices you make, but you don't necessarily know the extent to which your choices will hurt or effect yourself or others and you don't know if what you chose was right or wrong. Therefore, you are ignorant. Then there are times when you have no control over what happened, but you feel the effects of someone else's choices. This book indicates that you can be saved regardless, but the degree to which you, personally, are held accountable, varies.

That concept has been intriguing for me because it gives me a little perspective and it has helped me to set aside my instinct to blame and point fingers.

For example, in my childhood, there were things I've already discussed in earlier posts, which I don't blame anyone for. I don't point fingers at my parents and say, "You should have protected me!" Or I don't even really point the fingers at the bullies because they were kids! What they did hurt, it's true, but they were kids and kids can be mean, unintentionally. I blame no one, I just see things for how they were and try to explain how it made me feel.

Currently, since nothing in my life is resolving, it's been difficult to let go and move on because I WANT to point a finger at someone and blame them for what's transpired. For a while I could, but with this new perspective on Christ's Atonement, I find myself putting my finger down.

With that in mind, I wrote a letter to my in-laws this week. I wrote of my forgiveness, my compassion, and of my trying to understand their perspective. I tried to put myself in their shoes and in doing this, I realized something, I don't blame them.

My father-in-law, is a kind sweet, and humble man. He wouldn't do anything to knowingly hurt any other person. I feel that in my heart. But he would support his wife in all things. This is trait, that in the past, I have admired.

My mother-in-law is more difficult for me to understand. I know that she tries to do good...BUT sometimes misses that mark. I think her intentions are good, but she is misguided. It's good for me to see that she might not be intentionally trying to hurt or harm, instead she believes what she is doing is the right thing, (although to us on the outside, it clearly is not).

Because I can recognize these things, I am able to stop pointing blame at them and I can honestly say, Mom & Dad, it's not your fault. Which is why I wrote the letter.

It's a different story when it comes to pointing the finger at myself. I think it will continue to be a lifelong process that will take time and a lot of effort. I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop thinking about the 'I shoulda, woulda, couldas'.

With my husband, I don't know what it will take. The jury's still out on that! I think the confusion comes because I can't distinguish what was intentional harm, what was in ignorance, or what wasn't his choice in the first place, but instead were the effects of the choices of others. I'm sure it's a combination, but until I have it sorted out in my mind, my finger is still pointing towards guilty.

How I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I attended a small class today where there was a speaker speaking to us on The Five Love Languages. These concepts weren't new to me. I had heard them before. I even think that I read a book once that alluded to these, but I had never actually stopped to find out how it is I, myself, feel that I'm loved by others.

According to this paradigm, there are 5 Love Languages, or 5 different ways that one feels accepted, appreciated, and understood by those around them. They are:

1. Words of Affirmation

2. Quality time

3. Receiving Gifts

4. Acts of Service

5. Physical Touch

There are two that are critical for me. My number one Love Language is Words of Affirmation. With a close runner up, Receiving Gifts. I think those closest to me, like members of my immediate family, could have guessed these. They know me well. Honestly, it's not hard to figure out. I have always made it perfectly clear, I love gifts and I need praise. But what was fascinating to me was learning what others should and should not do to communicate their love.

Words of Affirmations

Tools to use: (This is how you should love me)

-Sincere verbal compliments

-Encouraging words

-Kind words

-Humble words

Traps to avoid: (This is what makes me wither up like a dried old leaf and crumble to pieces)

-"Constructive" criticism

-Verbal threats

-Making demands

-Verbal flattery to get what you want

Ironically, all the 'traps to avoid' were employed by my husband for most of our marriage. Now, I know there were other circumstances going on which effected how I felt about myself. There was a lot of abuse, and I think most people would feel hurt by it, but I always thought to myself, if I were stronger inside then I could withstand it or it wouldn't hurt so much. And I think I'm right. I think it was so crushing to me was because what he was doing was the antithesis of what I needed to feel loved. And under these conditions, I really did crumble. I remember looking for and seeking his praise, adoration, compliments, but when I didn't get it, I was emotionally destroyed and sometimes even blindsided. I knew he would tell me he loved me with his lips or in writing, but I after a while I didn't believe it anymore. There were too many traps and not enough tools being employed.

Receiving Gifts

Tools to use:

-Flowers and cards

-Personalization

-Gift of self

-Anything with a bow

Traps to avoid:

-Special Occasions

-Expensive gifts

-"Don't get me anything." (especially when I say don't get me anything--horrible offense!)

-Start a tradition you can't maintain

I know, needing to receive gifts to feel loved really sucks! But it's easy for people to show their love in this way because it doesn't take a lot of work to throw together a gift, unfortunately, it's also really easy to forget or to only get gifts on special occasions.

Until now, it has seemed vain, worldly and self centered of me. I found myself loathing this part of me during my marriage. But the fact is, it's real and no matter how I tried to change this about myself, I never could.

For me, the thing that communicated that I wasn't loved the most, was when my husband would offer himself (going with me somewhere that was important to me, for example) as a gift, but then would back out at the last minute. Or he wouldn't agree to do it with me in the first place. And that happened more times than I even want or care to count. It's just how it was.

The other hard part about being a gift's person is that it's easy for others to say, well I don't have enough money. For me, that tells me, you don't have enough 'love' for me. I'm not important. Because gifts don't have to cost anything; those kinds of gifts just take more thought and time. So, in my marriage, when we had extra cash, I got gifts, but when we didn't have money, I was given nothing.

The most fascinating part of learning about these languages was seeing that the way I try to show others, (including my husband), that I love them, directly reflects what my own love language is. I cake on the praise and I shower people with gifts...unbeknownst to me, not everyone is like me!

You're still you, after all. You're still you.

I was in the post office yesterday and witnessed an adorable little scene. While I was standing in line, waiting my turn, there was this little 3 year old standing in line ahead of me. She kept turning around and staring at me with the intensity that only a small child can pull off. There was no judgement, guile ,or embarrassment in her actions, just that stare. I don't know what it is about children and their ability to stare at the world and not only get away with it, but get in return a bunch of huge grins, silly faces, and finger waving from grown adults. I've tried the starting technique and am only confronted with averted eyes and rosy cheeks!

As she and her mom, who was also toting a baby in her arms, were preparing to leave, I overheard the mom say, "Okay, squirt, are you ready to go? Let's go."

The child, immediately stopped in her tracks, planted her feet firmly into the ground, as if preparing for a battle. She looked her mom squarely in the eyes and said with such firmness and determination, "I'm not a squirt! I'm Olivia!"

This child, at 3 years old, knew who she was.

In my minds eye, I fast forwarded to years in the future when that self image wouldn't be so clear. And I found myself hoping that this sweet little child would forever be able to hold on to that identity.

My ability to see myself that clearly has been altered so much. I feel as though I look at my reflection through murky water. I can no longer tell you what it means when I say I'm Jacquee. It doesn't carry with it the same significance that it once did. My my used to tell me, when I was unsure about a situation or decision, "You can do it! Why? Because you are Jacquee." I used to know exactly what that meant and I used to gain so much confidence through that statement. It wasn't just a name for myself. It was so much more. It carried a meaning, a value, a power. An Identity.

And now, while I can still identify different aspects about myself. Like what foods I like: Indian, Sushi, Pizza. Or what's my favorite color: Yellow. What do I like to do in my spare time: Read or Watch Movies. What is something I do well: Play the Piano. What are my hobbies, interests, character traits, etc? These are all things I can put labels to and list, but they don't carry the power of my identity. I no longer feel the empowerment that used to come from just knowing I was me.

I don't know what the missing element is or how to get that back again. I would like to, but I don't think it's possible to mesh who I once thought I was to how I currently view or perceive myself to be. Perhaps, it's not getting anything back, instead, maybe it's starting anew; building on my life's experiences and gaining wisdom along the way.

Jobless in Utah

Some months ago I began the arduous task of securing gainful employment...again. After moving 9 times in 6 years, you'd think I would know a little something about getting a job. I don't. I've mostly worked for myself or for my husband for 6 years. I have little experience in convincing anyone that I'm worth being paid any amount of $$$.

It's a funny thing trying to 'sell' yourself. I have a cover letter and a resume both of which are fairly well written and pinpoint my strong points, neither of which mention any of my numerous weaknesses. I have references that like me and think I'm pretty swell--and hopefully, will communicate my good points to the prospective employers. I am careful to apply only to jobs that are doing something I'm passionate about or would be good at and where I could picture myself being there long term. Thus, ensuring success, if I were offered the job. And then there are the interviews. Usually I'm great at face to face interactions, yet, lately it is proving to be something of a tiresome and worthless process.

For example, I went to a job interview a day ago. It's my second one in a month. Not good odds considering I have sent out over 200 resume applications.

I walked in 5 minutes early and was confronted with a barrage of women sitting down, waiting. I was the last one there. I sized up my competition. 20 women of all ages, sizes, and colors. To say that I was intimidated, is an understatement. There were women there that I could have birthed. There were women that could have been my grandmother. There were well-read individuals who were obviously above such a lowly position to which they were applying and there were ones in whom I'm sure this position would have been a stretch for them to succeed at.

Nevertheless, we all sat there filling out a monstrous application that was just a repeat of everything my resume (which was already filed with the company) stated. And then there was the infamous personality test--which, if you've ever taken these before, you know how to skew the results to get the personality they are looking for in the position--not that that is what I did! This was followed by a tour of the clinic and then just waiting. Waiting. (Seriously, I felt like a Dr. Seuess character waiting in The Waiting Place). Waiting for my turn for an interview with the boss. I waited 3 hours! 3 hours in a room full of estrogen. Chit chat with women who would like you to leave so that they can get the job. Polite, frustrated conversation. Everyone is thinking the same thing--"I need this job, but for heaven's sake, when is this madness going to end"?

I busied my time doing what I do best, writing list. Writing a list of questions to ask when I finally have my time in the sun with Mr. Boss-Man. And another list of what sets me apart from all the other women in the room. (That list seemed a little too short). I read all the pamphlets in the office. I texted everyone in my phone contacts. I stared each woman in the eyes until they became uncomfortable and looked away. I started chewing my fingernails, but quickly realized where I was and halted that before I entered the interview with little nubs for nails.

It's in these awkward moments of life, I'm left with my thoughts and I can't run away. I have to just sit there thinking about all my insecurities, faults, and the past that led me to the current state of affairs. It's as if someone is holding up a mirror in front of me and I'm confronted with myself. And the questions begin of why am I here? I don't have anything to offer this company. I don't really WANT this job, but I need a job! I don't have the experience or I have too much experience. How do the people in the room see me? Do they see me? Oh, how I wish I was my former skinny self, then I wouldn't be so self-conscious. No one is going to hire me, I have too many weaknesses, I can't cover them all up! People can see right through me. This job is so not worth the effort!

I'm about to abandon ship by the time it was my turn. However, as luck would have it, the boss was worn out and he didn't have time to talk with me, so I had an interview with the boss's wife. To say that I left frustrated, is an understatement.

Didn't receive a call back on that one...not that I'm all that surprised!

Veni! Vedi! Vici!

The start of a new year. This is a time I have always loved. I love to make New Years

resolutions. I love starting new things. The excitement, the anticipation of not knowing, but believing that I can MAKE things happen!

The world (until recently) has always be an open and inviting place to be. Full of possibilities. A place of wonder, amusement, adventure. And the New Year was a time to throw out the bad, (luck that went awry, unmet goal, things I'd been trying and rehashing throughout the year that just never panned out, old relationships gone sour, thinking patterns that were wearing on my soul, negative self limiting beliefs, or anything that I was just plain bored of), and begin again with new. New tries. New desires. New goals.

My motto, Veni! Vidi! Vici! (I came! I saw! I conquered!)

Even through the last 6 years, the New Year brought on, for me, the excitement of newness. I have, written in my journals, my New Year's Resolutions lists. Each, written with the hope that I'd be able to change enough to make my marriage not just work, but thrive. The beauty of hindsight, is that I can read these goals back to back and see that nothing changed in my desires from year to year. The only thing that changed was my desperation and hopelessness...and wording I used--to make something appear like it was NEW. By 2009, my goal was the same, but I never finished the list. I left off mid-sentence and ended up scribbling a short, sad, despairing poem at the bottom of the page. 2010's list just said: New Year's Resolutions 1: Find myself...

This year, is different. I feel compelled to make new goals, but I feel somewhat powerless to achieve anything, let alone greatness! But I know that to get to the light, sometimes we must take steps into the darkness. We have to have courage and use it, or we must take the courage that someone else has offered us. I'm choosing the later.

I don't necessarily believe in my own power or ability (especially at this time in my life) to transform this old body of mine into the healthy, fit, and efficient machine that I'd like it to be. Or to do anything of significance. But I do believe others have done amazing things through times of trial. So, I will take courage from others who have gone before and along side of me and I will step into the darkness and push forward this year until I'm basking in the sunlight...(and hopefully, I'll be in a yellow poke-a-dot bikini and lying on a sunny beach somewhere in the Caribbean!)

So, without further ado, my New Years Resolution (drum roll, please):

1) Have my parental rights reinstated and gain custody of my kids

2) Get down to a healthy weight (ha! When isn't that on my lists--especially after indulging in the holiday splendor?)

3) Run in the Top of Utah 1/2 marathon in August and the Marine Corps marathon in Oct.

4) Get a career level job that I LOVE

5) Move into my own place

6) Begin to payback my debts to my family

7) Start to repair my damaged credit

8) Write the music arrangements I've been meaning to do

9) Give back

10) Meet Josh Groban

Happy New Year!

(My sister's and I looking 'all pale and tragic' New Years Eve!