Here's what happened.

 On the 21st of December, while I was working in the distant north, my children were removed from my home for child abuse. My adolescent son ran away from home in the middle of the night, a Wednesday, and the police picked him up. What they saw was horrific, my son was covered in bruises all over his torso. Every individual rib was bruised. His arms were bruised. He had a bruise on his cheek that was as large as my open hand, which he later said was of his own doing (thank God! One of the hundred bruises was his own fault! Huge sarcasm here). My son has issues, don't get me wrong, he kills animals and tries to kill his siblings... but the police were astonished. He reported that he was told by my husband to go kill himself and save his little brother the hassle of being raised with such a person. This is denied to this day, but it sounds like something that would be said by my husband, and I believe my son. So when I heard, I left my job, on a 40 hour bus ride, home the next morning. I knew my kids were gone, and according to my husband, he had merely lost his temper after discovering that my son was molesting our toddler. Knowing the truth is very different, I just tried to hide every emotion and keep it together. I always focus on the next step instead of melting into a puddle of emotion if I can help it. My first reaction would be to just murder my husband in cold blood, being the mother bear who has been wronged. I kept it together though. I hid my emotions, and thought through a little bit of what was happening. 

   Wait a minute here, now CPS is involved now... My husband will get the help he needs for his mental issues (He is paranoid, antisocial, has PTSD, and a lengthy military career to make him just strange enough to be or seem dangerous, and the ability to go either way at a whim). How can I give up on the man I met?  I know he's in there somewhere, under the 20 lbs of 'baby' fat he gained while I was pregnant and the craziness aura that surrounds him like the Pigpen character from the Peanuts comic. Now that he can get counseling, medication and a job, all required by the court at no cost to me, what kind of idiot would leave? If he doesn't keep his performance up, he doesn't get what he wants (the kids back home with us). It's like knowing the next lottery ticket on the spool is the winner and not buying it.  

  Sadly, I am a doormat. (please walk on me, thank you). I put up with things way too long. I do everything humanly possible so that when I finally throw my hands in the air and give up, there is absolutely no doubt that nothing else could be done. Yes, like continuing CPR after rigor-mortis has set. Pathetic in some circumstances, admiral in others. I think I'm in the former circumstance, but hoping for the latter result. Maybe-land. But I only have a month left, either way it ends up. 

  The purpose of this blog is an outlet for my emotions in a setting where I'm not being reported to the courts. It's set to private, you should only be reading this if you've been invited. I am so relieved to be able to get this out. There is so much incriminating information about my husband that has weighed on my heart and soul for these months, I am at a loss for how grateful I am at the opportunity to put it out of my soul for a while. The decisions are mine ultimately, but I'm happy to receive feedback. I am hopeful that out of this fire that is my life, something worthy will be left behind. I am learning a lot of lessons along the way. I am ready to give up, but I persevere every day with these hopes. 

Stay tuned. 

A little more

When I met my husband 3 1/2 years ago, I was a single mom, homeowner, a daycare owner. I had my bills paid every month. My car was paid off. I had chickens, a garden, my life was 'together' for the most part. I had friends, a church family, I was off welfare for the first time in my adult life. My kids were old enough to not require 24/7 care, so I switched from daycare to student and retail worker. It was nice and relaxing, I was really enjoying school and a job where I didn't have to think a lot and deal with moody parents who call the police on you when they don't want to pay their childcare bill. My kids were thriving, homeschooling, with help from my huge support network of friends that I, to this day, remember and cherish. My kids spent a lot of time with extended family and friends, we did a lot of social activities.
On to how we met. My husband was a unique person. I was smitten, which is common for me. My heart is anatomically located on my sleeve. He was intelligent, articulate, and lived a 'green' life, which I liked at that time. I had never met anyone like him. He was honest & ethical to a fault; peaceful like a Buddhist monk; educated like a college professor; knowledgable like a set of encyclopedias. He spouted philosophy with sarcastic humor, we had long conversations about logic and all things that expanded my mind and I felt like I was growing as a person, becoming better, and enjoying the whole thing because it was fun. We had lots of fun for a few months. When we were about done having our fun summer fling because, as it turns out, people who have been single their whole life tend to be stubborn and set in their ways, and we both were, I found out I was pregnant with twins. Whew! I know I can raise a baby on my own, but two??? We have been together ever since, in almost constant 'downs' rather than any good portion of 'ups' to compliment them. Downs are an understatement. More like living hell. I have learned how to not spew my sadness on everyone around me all the time though (yay! something learned!). My spouting is more occasional than I'm used to, I'm sure my friends are grateful. I would be! Anyway, back on point. He has lost his job, been convicted of a violent felony that was pretty bogus (even from an unbiased perspective, it was grossly unjust. Informational side note: when you have a trespasser threatening you on your land, you have to kill them. Not for the sake of safety, just so they can't lie to the police about how innocent they were and how you tried to kill them maliciously. Just keep that in mind if you ever encounter a burglar). He was accused of molesting my oldest child, who later said she made it up. We have been accused of abusing the children for all 3 years, and every investigation proved that we were not. The accusations included things like feces on the walls & floors, no food or water, etc. Nothing was founded, it was just the crazies around me who decided they would like to cause trouble. I'm kind of a germ-o-phobe and a survialist-turned-food-hoarder, so those accusations were pretty funny.
  Things have changed a lot since then. He isn't the same person who I met. He has a raging temper, and has fallen from the grace I knew. He is depressed, morose, argumentative, and at the same time, his avoidance skills are uncanny. Nothing is ever resolved or solved, everything is my fault, and to listen to him, I sit around the house not doing anything while he works so hard. The reality is different - I hold two jobs while he watches movies and plays with his phone all day, unemployed. If he spends an hour cleaning up the yard, you would think that it was a full time job and he had slaved away for weeks. Picking up his dirty clothes and putting away his shoes is almost as much a miracle as truly finding the face of God in a tortilla. He promised me he would be the best 'house husband' I had ever known, keeping everything clean, educating the children, and I would be able to come home from my jobs and relax in a clean house with dinner made, children basking at my feet at my immense glory of being a provider. None of that happened. As it turned out, he would sleep all day or play with his phone, while my adolescent son would clean the house, take care of the twins, and being an adolescent, try to manage his pubescent raging emotions about having to be stuck as a mom. When he didn't perform well enough or lashed out, he was beaten or forced to do insane amounts of work that even my husband wouldn't do himself. When I was home, it was different. I woke up early, fed the children, cleaned the house, got myself ready and went to work. If I wasn't working out of the house, I was cleaning, organizing, playing with the kids, cutting coupons, trying to teach them, all while my husband slept or played with his phone. When I had a day off, he would jump in the car and run off to a friends' house, which I encouraged so I wouldn't have to pussyfoot around my own house. When the kids misbehaved while I was home, they would get time-outs or spankings (which didn't leave marks, btw). I let them help with the twins, with the chores, but it wasn't their job. That was the main difference. The house around us falling apart, and my husband would go take a nap, read a book, or stand in front of the mirror bemoaning how much weight he had gained. I became the 'nag' if I asked him any questions, if he was going to get anything done, fix anything, provide anything. I resorted to the 'parent of a two year old' approach: 'I'm so happy you woke up today! Yay! You didn't poop yourself!' Basically I lowered my standards to being excited if he was breathing.

 

A little about me

So first things first, a proper introduction. You will know me as Ruth, middle aged mother. I have several children who range in age from 17 to 2. None of the children live with me now. I am a very devoted mother, and their departure was quite recent, and not of my choosing. I have been married for 3 years now, and we live very simply on a remote stretch of deserted land without utilities or common comforts. I harbor dreams of putting roots down and making the desert bloom with life, but my husband is a bit of a gypsy and is ever asking where I'd like to move to next. I find this incredibly frustrating, as my childhood included moving as soon as the house was finished being remodeled, which meant no friends, no garden, no roots. For the first time in my life, I have friends and property and I want roots for my children and grandchildren.
We have 2 dogs and a cat. Our animals are confused to say the least. The big dog, she is a 75 pound mutt, catches mice and finds it all the more thrilling if they are jumping through the air, where she routinely catches them. The smaller dog thinks she is a pomeranian, but she's quite a bit larger than one. She insists upon sleeping on me, sitting on me, being on me at all times, and with her 15 pounds of solid muscle, she makes me quite uncomfortable. The cat is completely useless and has the worst flatulence of any living thing. She frequently finds herself outside much to her chagrin, but is loving and affectionate, grabbing your limbs to lick them as you try to walk past. She won't catch mice (of which we have an abundance considering where we live) and sticks her nose up at them when they are presented to her. Perhaps if she would change her diet to mice instead of dog food (apparently it's better than cat food), we wouldn't have to remove her from the house so often. I long for chickens, peafowl, cows, goats, horses, etc. Maybe someday.

Growing Through Fire Intro

Hi! This is my first attempt at a real blog where I have been motivated enough to want to write something for more than one whole day. I'm not a very diligent person, nor am I very consistent, but I hope my readers will find something interesting in my blog posts every time I write. Please remember, first attempt and all, I am very rusty when it comes to writing anything in the first place since I've been raising children and working (and that's pretty much it) for the past 17 years.