Copied from the Other Blog

*Note: I used to write a lot more bluntly on this blog than I do now. I wrote an entire series about my experiences with domestic violence in high school which I subsequently deleted when I found out some of my sweet nieces and former Young Women read my blog. This entry previously posted at my private blog addresses a lot of my experiences very candidly instead of the usual sugarcoating I try use now when I post now in deference to the kind LDS women who read here as well as my nieces who I don't want to offend or provide with "TMI." However, abusive relationships aren't sugarcoated. They are ugly and painful and because these details aren't explicit, I am not going to edit them out of today's entry. Who I was then, isn't who I am now. And I'm thankful from that and I hope that maybe this (and anything else I may post) will help others learn not to make my mistakes.

(And if any of my nieces are still reading here, you should know that the week I moved out of that apartment, your Uncle David, who barely knew me back then, offered to marry me and move me to Ft. Ord with him just to keep me safe. We didn't know each other well enough at that point to get married, but it made it very easy to say 'yes' to him when he asked again 7 years later. You may not think much of me, but he is a good man and I hope you all know that.)

"How We Are Different"

My freshman year in college finally provided me with the backbone I needed to dump my abusive, possessive, and very controlling high school boyfriend and move out of the duplex we shared and into the barely used dorm room I had paid for on campus. Once I finally got out from under his thumb, I had to teach myself how to function without him: I couldn’t drive, I was terrified to be alone, I even needed his help to load film into my stupid camera. But luckily I had good friends who were there for me to get me through that transition.

In the middle of all of that, summer came to the OU campus and I had to leave my dorm room behind and move back home for two months. My mother, not liking the new, becoming-independent person that had once been her easily manipulated daughter; did everything she could to make sure this was unpleasant. First, she allowed a mutual friend of my ex’s to move into the house too. This friend was a a 22 year-old single mom who was pregnant with no support from the baby daddy. (Our friendship happened as a result of the ex sleeping with her behind my back, followed by her getting to know me and feeling sorry for me, and ending her relationship with him only to move onto the baby daddy. My mom got involved because my youngest sister had babysat her kid a few times after we became friends. And I can’t believe I explained the complexities of that relationship in so few sentences…)

My friend was pregnant, moody, and hormonal and somehow fixated on my ex (who, let us remember, used her while continuing to live with me) as her #1 pregnancy support person which meant, in her mind and my mother’s, he needed complete access to the home I was living in. Because every neurotically insecure 19 year-old needs someone who abused her emotionally, physically, and sexually for from the time she was 16 to be able to come and go in her home at will.

Let’s stop here and clarify that my mother was at the ER with my following one of the worst fights he and I ever had and given her tendency to steal notes or letters from my backpack or eavesdrop on my phone conversations; she was well aware of what my experiences had been with him. She just enjoys tormenting me and what an easy way to do so under the guise of "being a good host." But when I complained to my Dad about the situation, my mother had the nerve to tell me that by denying the ex access to the house, my pregnant friend and her 2 year-old son would leave too and it was just too bad I didn’t have it in me to be “kind” like she was and where oh where did she go wrong when trying to teach me to “do unto others…” (And yes, I’m feeling a little sick just remembering this as I type it.) FYI: My friend was grateful to have a place to stay while waiting on assisted living. If either of my parents had even once said "He can't come in here, it's not fair to Melessa. She would have met up with him elsewhere, or even better, done without him altogether. But with no rules in place, she called him all the time. I'm blaming the pregnancy hormones. I've had 5 kids now, I hadn't had any then. I get it now. Though I still ask "Why him?" But I'm not sure she could answer that either.)

I couldn't sleep or even feel very safe in a house where he could drop by at any given moment, so I moved in with my best friend and her parents for the rest of the summer. It wasn’t the greatest move as far as our friendship went back then because sharing a trundle in a small upstairs bedroom can wear on a 19 and 17 year-old, but we weathered it. And looking back, I’m not sure what else I could have done. (So again Chris, thank you. And seeing it through almost 40 year-old eyes makes me that much more grateful. So seriously, THANK YOU CHRIS! And also, what kind of mother puts her daughter through that? Anyway...)

Flash-forward to me as I am now. I think I am kind. I volunteer with a Masonic youth group when my weekends could be much better spent on my couch in a pair of sweats getting caught up on the DVR recordings. (Not to mention I hear a lot of talk about how the Masonic groups are a bit outdated and may have run their course.) As if that isn’t enough, I run a non-profit which means I work as hard as possible for as little money as anyone I know makes in the Executive Director position. I once gave $5 to a homeless dude in a liquor store parking lot  because he told me I was pretty and wished me a “Happy Mother’s Day.” (Admittedly, that was not that bright on my part. But he said I was “pretty.” ;) I donate money or time to every worthy cause that I can and I do my best to teach my kids to treat each other and everyone else they meet with respect. I teach Primary (children's church) every Sunday. However, there are limits to what I will and won't do for someone.

Last night, my daughter and a couple of her friends and I stayed late at the lodge building following the Tuesday night meeting so that we could start planning an upcoming activity. It was just the four of us there when a man walked into the building and started asking me for money. If I had the $5 to give him to get him to leave I would have, but payday is tomorrow so I didn’t. The man refused to leave and pretty much ordered me to call the man in charge of the lodge. He made it clear he was going to sit in that building until he had $10 in his hands and even though I made it clear I wasn’t going to give it to him, he wouldn’t budge. It was unnerving to say the least.

I called several numbers WHILE HE STOOD RIGHT OVER MY SHOULDER getting a lot of voicemail boxes because it was about 9:30 p.m. and I can't imagine that they recognized my number. Finally, someone answered his phone. I had been pacing back and forth while I made these calls (with my unwanted visitor right there following me each step), and because I needed privacy, I ducked into the Ladies lounge (which had another door I could exit if I needed to-I’m not a complete idiot.) I was nervous to go anywhere that I couldn’t keep my eyes on him and the girls, but I needed 2 minutes of privacy. I had handed my keys to my daughter several times trying to tell her with my eyes to get herself and her friends into our car and lock the doors. But she seemed to be missing the hint, so I took a chance, went into the lounge, and told last year’s lodge director what was happening. He said he would be there in 5 minutes to handle the situation, and he was. (My daughter had texted my husband, but he lives 20 minutes away.) He also called another of the Masons who is a police officer and met him there within that same 5 minutes in a squad car. They dismissed me with their eyes and, unlike my daughter, I took the girls and got right out of there.

(The girls had known I was trying to tell them to get in the car, but none of them wanted to leave me along "with that creepy dude.")

I am sure the old man was harmless. I feel a little bad that my phone call resulted in him having to deal with the police and I wish I could have given him $5 and spared him the trouble I probably got him in last night. BUT, in my world, protecting my kid and myself is more important than "being kind" as my mother would define it. I’m sure my mother would disapprove of the way I handled this, likely suggesting I drive him to an ATM and giving him whatever he wanted. But I’m not my mom and I would rather my kid think that protecting her was my priority, which it was. I am glad we are OK and I’m glad I did what I did. I’m glad my idea of “kind” isn’t my mother’s.

(And yes Chris, next time I will lock the door.)

And how about those Masons getting there in 5 minutes from the time I called? They're pretty good guys. And I'm glad they're still around.