I've been thinking about finding a doctor lately. I feel like I should go in and get checked out and try to be a "good patient" that sees a doctor every 5-6 years... instead of my current method of thinking I'm dying of cancer, going in to get checked out once every 15 or so years, then finding out I'm completely fine. I mean it works, kinda, but that's not the example a nurse should set for her patients, right? At least they're babies and won't ask about the last time I went in for my sniffles or the weird lump on my hip.
Along with thinking about finding a doctor, probably an OB/GYN, comes the thought of how to tell them to be extra careful with me. I have read about it some, and it usually gets the point across by simply saying I have a past history of sexual trauma. Short and to the point. I was gonna say short and sweet, but let's be real, there's nothing sweet about it.
Now, I was contemplating all of this, while throwing the ball for my dog in my backyard, when I remembered a completely random memory: I remember being at a karaoke pub with the girls from my senior year OB and peds rotation, celebrating that we were all done with clinicals. Exfiance was there, and it was after I had already gone to the cops, I believe, but the detective hadn't issued a warrant for him yet, so he didn't know about what I was doing. At some point I had to follow my friends out to the parking lot to make sure they had a buddy to come back in, and he caught me alone. He kept calling my name and I just walked away. I walked away with all of the strength and pride a woman can muster after finally leaving her abuser. I walked away knowing in my heart, that I am fighting for justice with all the courage and strength I could muster. I walked away from him with confidence that I was no longer in his grasp and he now has plenty of stories recorded with his name plastered ALL over them so that if some other girl happens to come forward (and I pray it's no girl that ever meets him after me), then his ass will end up in prison for the rest of his days because of the atrocities he committed towards myself and the other girls.
For having been struggling with insecurities, the sadness of realizing I can't handle a relationship right now, and the thought of ending up alone (which I am more and more okay with as the days go by), this random little memory gave me such strength and hope. I was able to be near him, and his tentacles could no longer permeate my heart because I am already gone. Yes, the damage has been done, but I finally had enough of his shit. I finally got the window to escape, the resources to help me do so, and the time needed to separate myself from his grasp.
For those of you who keep going back to abusers, who keep getting sucked in to their lies and manipulation, or who have to stay for safety reasons or children, I get it. I understand the needing to stay for just a bit longer, or accepting the burden of going back because there isn't sufficient safety in leaving just yet. I get it, I understand, and my heart is heavy for you. I am terribly sorry that you are going through that. I pray that one day, you are able to find your window to escape, and that you run and don't ever look back. Sure, the legal system will drag you back and make you relive the memories. Anniversaries will pop up and bring you down. However, keep fighting and moving and running and working towards your freedom. I promise you deserve it. I pray that once you get to leave, that you never see your abuser again, unless required by the legal system and then only in the presence of the cops that are required to guard him/her and a whole bunch of witnesses. More so, I pray you find your freedom and then peace and confidence to be you.
Praying for you victims and survivors tonight.
Showing posts with label justice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label justice. Show all posts
Friday, September 23, 2016
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Painful Memories
Tomorrow marks the anniversary of ex-boyfriend's first assault on me. A year ago, I was excited on this night. It was a Friday, I believe and I was probably at his new house watching a movie with him. Actually, he went to bed early so we were probably back in his bed, falling asleep or already sleeping by now.
He didn't try to touch me this night. I was still blissfully ignorant of the danger lurking within him.
The most he probably did was try to grab my butt or my boobs while he made out with me. I was uncomfortable sleeping in his bed, but he wouldn't let me sleep out on the couch. I was also dumb enough to believe that sleeping over would be okay. I was naive enough to believe that I was safe with him.
I've been wrestling with terrible thoughts in my head. For as long as I can remember, I was told to love those who hurt you and hate nobody but Satan.
I've been struggling to wrap my head around the evil that was done to my body and the fact that these guys think that they did nothing wrong.
I have been struggling to keep my mind from saying that "I hate them."
I hate what they've done to me. I hate that they have no fucking clue that my life is ruined. I hate that if the news ever got out that they did these things to me, nobody will believe me and they will blame me for making up stories. I hate that the law is on their side in this backwards legal system. I hate that they will likely have no punishment because what could potentially happen in the best case scenario for me or worst case scenario for them? NOTHING! Absolutely, fucking nothing.
Justice is bullshit. The legal system is not working for victims, it helps nobody but those who have broken the law. So, what's the point in reporting? There is none.
I'm so fucking over this shit. I can't sleep. My mind is being bombarded with the evil acts these assholes have done to me. The only comfort I have is absolutely nothing. There is no comfort. There is no justice. There is nothing I, or anyone, can do to right these wrongs.
L-rd, give me peace and comfort in the coming months as all of my anniversaries come to bombard me and swallow me whole. Quiet my heart and give me restful sleep. Allow me to somehow forget these evil guys. Somehow, in the coming judgement, bring me justice, oh L-rd. Give me something to tell me that the suffering I have unfortunately survived this last year is not in vain. Oh L-rd, redeem me and punish those who have wronged me and invaded my body. Ad-nai, forgive my past trangressions and remember what has happened. L-rd, remember those who love you and deliver me from the evil bestowed upon me.
Why was this given to me? What did I do that warranted that type of punishment? Or, what kind of sick test was that?!? WHY???
Ironically, tomorrow's pediatric lecture is on childhood abuse and will most likely mention sexual assault because that seems to be a popular topic in that stupid class. As such, I am not going. I refuse to go. The peds instructor makes sick jokes about rape, suicide, abuse, and other "hot button" topics that immediately make me cry. How will I handle such topics from now on? I will just refuse to go to class! Fuck you, lady. L-rd willing, you've never lived through these terrible things. As someone who survived multiple suicide attempts, is living through grieving a friend's suicide, having been abused by boyfriends, and raped by two separate guys on numerous occasions, YOU HAVE NO PLACE TO TALK!!!
No decent person makes jokes about abuse, rape, or suicide. Don't fuck with those topics. If you have to talk about them, and I think it's important to discuss them, then you treat them with the respect and seriousness they deserve. Get people who are experts and who are tender to the issues to come and teach the lecture, if that is required.
Don't fucking mess with me and don't tell me you know when you don't lady (peds professor and Jersey.)
Some of you, out there in the blog-o-sphere, unfortunately understand the pain of living through traumatic events. Though we have not lived the same life, I am sorry for your suffering. We can't fully comprehend each others pain and journey, but I know what it is like to live my trauma and I am sorry for anyone who has to live through their own. For anything you've been through, I am, from the bottom of my heart, sorry.
For those of you who haven't, I am so very glad that you haven't. I do not wish this on anyone. Having said that, please do not tell those of us who are survivors of trauma that you know what we are going through. If you say anything, tell us that you are sorry and then slap that pity look right off your face. We don't need pity. We are still a person, just like anyone else. Unfortunately, we were dealt a hand in life where we were forced to be a bit stronger than the average person. That does not mean we need pity. Giving us that fucking pity look and babying us after we tell you only makes the situation worse. Don't distance yourself from us or treat us differently besides avoiding the triggers we ask you to avoid. Besides that, treat us normally, but silently give us more patience as we heal.
He didn't try to touch me this night. I was still blissfully ignorant of the danger lurking within him.
The most he probably did was try to grab my butt or my boobs while he made out with me. I was uncomfortable sleeping in his bed, but he wouldn't let me sleep out on the couch. I was also dumb enough to believe that sleeping over would be okay. I was naive enough to believe that I was safe with him.
I've been wrestling with terrible thoughts in my head. For as long as I can remember, I was told to love those who hurt you and hate nobody but Satan.
I've been struggling to wrap my head around the evil that was done to my body and the fact that these guys think that they did nothing wrong.
I have been struggling to keep my mind from saying that "I hate them."
I hate what they've done to me. I hate that they have no fucking clue that my life is ruined. I hate that if the news ever got out that they did these things to me, nobody will believe me and they will blame me for making up stories. I hate that the law is on their side in this backwards legal system. I hate that they will likely have no punishment because what could potentially happen in the best case scenario for me or worst case scenario for them? NOTHING! Absolutely, fucking nothing.
Justice is bullshit. The legal system is not working for victims, it helps nobody but those who have broken the law. So, what's the point in reporting? There is none.
I'm so fucking over this shit. I can't sleep. My mind is being bombarded with the evil acts these assholes have done to me. The only comfort I have is absolutely nothing. There is no comfort. There is no justice. There is nothing I, or anyone, can do to right these wrongs.
L-rd, give me peace and comfort in the coming months as all of my anniversaries come to bombard me and swallow me whole. Quiet my heart and give me restful sleep. Allow me to somehow forget these evil guys. Somehow, in the coming judgement, bring me justice, oh L-rd. Give me something to tell me that the suffering I have unfortunately survived this last year is not in vain. Oh L-rd, redeem me and punish those who have wronged me and invaded my body. Ad-nai, forgive my past trangressions and remember what has happened. L-rd, remember those who love you and deliver me from the evil bestowed upon me.
Why was this given to me? What did I do that warranted that type of punishment? Or, what kind of sick test was that?!? WHY???
Ironically, tomorrow's pediatric lecture is on childhood abuse and will most likely mention sexual assault because that seems to be a popular topic in that stupid class. As such, I am not going. I refuse to go. The peds instructor makes sick jokes about rape, suicide, abuse, and other "hot button" topics that immediately make me cry. How will I handle such topics from now on? I will just refuse to go to class! Fuck you, lady. L-rd willing, you've never lived through these terrible things. As someone who survived multiple suicide attempts, is living through grieving a friend's suicide, having been abused by boyfriends, and raped by two separate guys on numerous occasions, YOU HAVE NO PLACE TO TALK!!!
No decent person makes jokes about abuse, rape, or suicide. Don't fuck with those topics. If you have to talk about them, and I think it's important to discuss them, then you treat them with the respect and seriousness they deserve. Get people who are experts and who are tender to the issues to come and teach the lecture, if that is required.
Don't fucking mess with me and don't tell me you know when you don't lady (peds professor and Jersey.)
Some of you, out there in the blog-o-sphere, unfortunately understand the pain of living through traumatic events. Though we have not lived the same life, I am sorry for your suffering. We can't fully comprehend each others pain and journey, but I know what it is like to live my trauma and I am sorry for anyone who has to live through their own. For anything you've been through, I am, from the bottom of my heart, sorry.
For those of you who haven't, I am so very glad that you haven't. I do not wish this on anyone. Having said that, please do not tell those of us who are survivors of trauma that you know what we are going through. If you say anything, tell us that you are sorry and then slap that pity look right off your face. We don't need pity. We are still a person, just like anyone else. Unfortunately, we were dealt a hand in life where we were forced to be a bit stronger than the average person. That does not mean we need pity. Giving us that fucking pity look and babying us after we tell you only makes the situation worse. Don't distance yourself from us or treat us differently besides avoiding the triggers we ask you to avoid. Besides that, treat us normally, but silently give us more patience as we heal.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Oh the Legal System
My Thursday was spent at the courthouse this week. I went in and was there at probably 7:45 a.m. It took me about an hour and a half to fill out all of the pages for a restraining order. Then, I filed it and sat in a courtroom with 20-30 other people waiting to have their cases read by the judge to see if each of us would have our individual petition awarded or denied.
I wasn't the last one to file, but I was the absolute last one that was called to be talked to. I don't know if it is because the judge wanted to think about it more or because there was some other reason. It doesn't matter. I was last.
It was denied.
Normally, when she denied a protection order for the others, she would thank them for their time and that would be the end of it. When she denied mine, she told me she was going to deny it, but she told me it was okay for me to disagree and that there were other avenues I could take to get it accepted. She said I could get a lawyer and try to go farther. Again, she said this to nobody else the entire day. The courtroom was nearly empty. Maybe she saved me for last so she could tell me this? I think she wanted to grant it to me, but she got hung up on the immediacy of his threat to me. He hasn't texted me in a couple weeks so she said she hoped that would be the last time he would try to contact me.
I was followed into the hall by a domestic violence advocate. This sweet lady had helped me fill out all of the paperwork and had gotten me ready for court. She is the contact my counselor has been trying to get me in to see for a few weeks now and I am so glad she did.
When the advocate (now her new name for this blog) followed me into the hall she told me she was sorry and that my case really should have been approved. She seemed disappointed, but I don't know why. I figured she told everyone this because after many of the cases were denied, a different advocate would follow them into the hall and hand them a business card. So, I blew it off and figured she was just trying to get me to feel better. I wasn't shocked by the denial, though I had really hoped for it to be approved. Advocate told me she would talk to a lawyer, if it was okay with me, and also my Counselor to let her know what happened. I told her that was totally okay. Then I left.
I got onto the elevator and walked the two blocks back to the parking garage where my car was parked. It's all a haze now. I've grown accustomed to living life in a haze when things become difficult for me. By the time I got to my car, I had already called my mom 2-3 times. She didn't answer so I figured she was with a client. I called Brother when I was in my car but he didn't pick up. That's when the sobbing began. It was uncontrollable. The kind of sob I haven't had since a few days after Country Boy died and there is a gut wrenching noise that escapes my lips but comes from deep within. The kind that increases the pain and that people experience when they've lost someone they love dearly after a trauma. This is the kind of sob that will rip you in two if you truly allow yourself to be taken over by the pain.
15 minutes of this, I pulled myself together and knew I needed to go home to get my backpack for school. I hadn't expected to stay at the courthouse all day so I didn't think I needed it when I left that morning.
I cried the whole way home. There was a constant flow of tears, but not the sobbing. I was okay to drive, though the road was blurry.
When I got home, I collapsed onto my bed and the sobbing began in earnest again. I can't remember if I called my mom, or if she called me, but we talked on the phone. The conversation went a bit like this:
me: Mom! She said no
Mom: Oh honey, I'm so sorry!
me: I can't do this anymore (barely understandable because crying began)
Mom: It's just a roadblock, it must have needed to happen this way for a reason
me: But I'm so sick of this life! I don't want to be here anymore! (I don't even know how she knew what I was saying because my hyperventilation methods had kicked in really hard and I don't even know what words were supposed to be coming forth from my mouth. I sure as hell couldn't figure out what someone were saying if they were talking like that. I mean, it took me like 5 minutes to spit out those few words!)
Mom: Honey, I need you here. I know this is hard, but just stay here with me. Start thinking of fun stuff, put in a kids movie. What makes you happy?
me: Nothing!!! Nothing makes me happy! I don't want to do this anymore *sobs, ineffective breathing patterns, hyperventilations, periods of hardcore apnea*
Mom: Sweety, what else do you have today?
me: Just meeting *sobs* with my group *sobs* for a *sobs* group project *sobs* and then *sobs* class. But *sobs* I'm not *sobs* staying *sobs* for claaaasss! *apnea*
Mom: Okay, well just focus on breathing. Go meet with your group really quick, play happy music in your car, and then I'm coming down.
me: No, Mom. You don't have to come down today.
Mom: Okay, I'm coming down tomorrow after work. Just think about happy stuff. Funny animal videos, what about your barn with all the rescue cows that you like on Facebook? Go watch Veggie Tales. Don't think about court, just focus on happy things. Then come home and you can sleep and watch good, happy movies.
me: O-o-o-o-k-a-a-a-a-a-y *sobs, apnea, sobs, apnea*
Mom: I love you. Stay with me, I need you okay? I love you so much.
me: I love you too Mom.
We hung up.
My group was so supportive. I showed up 30 minutes late and looked like crap. My eyes were red, splotchy, swollen, and glassy. I apologized for being late and they said no problem, are you okay? I replied that I was okay and that I was just having one of the worst days. They were so sweet and just told me that they made me the dad in our little skit. I said, "I am so sorry! Are you sure I can't help anymore? I feel really bad I'm so late!" They told me it was okay. I said I was going to go ahead and go home, I wasn't staying for class. I said I had been at the courthouse all morning dealing with legal stuff and I was just stressed beyond belief. They told me to go home and get some rest. They asked if it all got sorted out but didn't press me for details because they saw I didn't want to talk about it.
How can my group, with a couple of the nosiest and most gossipy girls I have ever met in my life, be able to accept that I didn't want to talk about it? Yet, Jersey expects me to share all details of my life and then she wants to go share it with everyone she passes on the street and ever single person in our class? I don't get it!
So, I was there for a solid 5 minutes before leaving.
I headed home, but stopped by Brother's work on my way there. I told him what had happened and the tears started before the story. He came around the counter and hugged me for a solid 10 minutes while I just stood there grasping onto him for dear life, as if I were drowning, and sobbing into his shirt. My sleeves were soaked with the tears I had been wiping since I left for the group project and that was after changing sweatshirts because my other sweatshirt's sleeves were beyond soaked. So many tears!
He told me to go home, take a nap, and not worry about anything else that I needed to do that day. Then, text him when I woke up and let him know I was okay. I asked if mom had called him and he said she had. "Was she worried about me" I asked. "Yeah, she's super concerned but didn't really tell me why."
My poor family, having to deal with this crap from me. I know they love me, but I feel like such a burden because this will never end. In fact, this is all about to get significantly harder.
Next day, (Friday) was counseling. I hadn't gone on Tuesday for my session because my clinical schedule was changed without much warning. So, I only had one session this last week. That's not good. I'm on a two session a week schedule because I just can't handle my head for more than a couple days at a time on my own.
Counselor told me, first thing, that Advocate had talked with me. She asked if I wanted to talk about it. I said sure and went on for a couple minutes. I told her what the Advocate and Judge told me. She looked concerned. Then I asked if Advocate says what she told me to everyone. I asked if Advocate usually says that it can be taken farther and that a Lawyer should be consulted to get my case heard and the restraining order put in place. Counselor said that she has never seen Advocate try so hard to fight for a case. That is encouraging. I figured it was just the norm, but I guess she sees the danger that I'm sensing here. I told Counselor that I thought the Judge did too and that I thought she actually wanted to give it to me, but was hesitant because of the exact wording of the law. Counselor told me to believe that thought.
So, I went from feeling absolutely insane because I was denied a protection order, because I thought that meant the judge didn't believe me, to now believing that these women actually see the danger and the scariness of the situation but we have to work around the laws.
Guys, I'm telling you, this back and forth is making my head hurt. However, it's encouraging to have so many women who have seen other cases who all want to fight for me because they believe me when I tell them what has happened.
I don't know where I'm going from here or what will happen, but that's for the L-rd to know and orchestrate.
I heard from someone who I recently met, that ex-fiance is well known for beating girls and for being a sex addict... Yikes. This makes me so sad that I ever had to meet him. I hate that my story has gone from a happy, kind girl, to a story of so much pain that I don't even want children or a boyfriend/husband anymore.
I wasn't the last one to file, but I was the absolute last one that was called to be talked to. I don't know if it is because the judge wanted to think about it more or because there was some other reason. It doesn't matter. I was last.
It was denied.
Normally, when she denied a protection order for the others, she would thank them for their time and that would be the end of it. When she denied mine, she told me she was going to deny it, but she told me it was okay for me to disagree and that there were other avenues I could take to get it accepted. She said I could get a lawyer and try to go farther. Again, she said this to nobody else the entire day. The courtroom was nearly empty. Maybe she saved me for last so she could tell me this? I think she wanted to grant it to me, but she got hung up on the immediacy of his threat to me. He hasn't texted me in a couple weeks so she said she hoped that would be the last time he would try to contact me.
I was followed into the hall by a domestic violence advocate. This sweet lady had helped me fill out all of the paperwork and had gotten me ready for court. She is the contact my counselor has been trying to get me in to see for a few weeks now and I am so glad she did.
When the advocate (now her new name for this blog) followed me into the hall she told me she was sorry and that my case really should have been approved. She seemed disappointed, but I don't know why. I figured she told everyone this because after many of the cases were denied, a different advocate would follow them into the hall and hand them a business card. So, I blew it off and figured she was just trying to get me to feel better. I wasn't shocked by the denial, though I had really hoped for it to be approved. Advocate told me she would talk to a lawyer, if it was okay with me, and also my Counselor to let her know what happened. I told her that was totally okay. Then I left.
I got onto the elevator and walked the two blocks back to the parking garage where my car was parked. It's all a haze now. I've grown accustomed to living life in a haze when things become difficult for me. By the time I got to my car, I had already called my mom 2-3 times. She didn't answer so I figured she was with a client. I called Brother when I was in my car but he didn't pick up. That's when the sobbing began. It was uncontrollable. The kind of sob I haven't had since a few days after Country Boy died and there is a gut wrenching noise that escapes my lips but comes from deep within. The kind that increases the pain and that people experience when they've lost someone they love dearly after a trauma. This is the kind of sob that will rip you in two if you truly allow yourself to be taken over by the pain.
15 minutes of this, I pulled myself together and knew I needed to go home to get my backpack for school. I hadn't expected to stay at the courthouse all day so I didn't think I needed it when I left that morning.
I cried the whole way home. There was a constant flow of tears, but not the sobbing. I was okay to drive, though the road was blurry.
When I got home, I collapsed onto my bed and the sobbing began in earnest again. I can't remember if I called my mom, or if she called me, but we talked on the phone. The conversation went a bit like this:
me: Mom! She said no
Mom: Oh honey, I'm so sorry!
me: I can't do this anymore (barely understandable because crying began)
Mom: It's just a roadblock, it must have needed to happen this way for a reason
me: But I'm so sick of this life! I don't want to be here anymore! (I don't even know how she knew what I was saying because my hyperventilation methods had kicked in really hard and I don't even know what words were supposed to be coming forth from my mouth. I sure as hell couldn't figure out what someone were saying if they were talking like that. I mean, it took me like 5 minutes to spit out those few words!)
Mom: Honey, I need you here. I know this is hard, but just stay here with me. Start thinking of fun stuff, put in a kids movie. What makes you happy?
me: Nothing!!! Nothing makes me happy! I don't want to do this anymore *sobs, ineffective breathing patterns, hyperventilations, periods of hardcore apnea*
Mom: Sweety, what else do you have today?
me: Just meeting *sobs* with my group *sobs* for a *sobs* group project *sobs* and then *sobs* class. But *sobs* I'm not *sobs* staying *sobs* for claaaasss! *apnea*
Mom: Okay, well just focus on breathing. Go meet with your group really quick, play happy music in your car, and then I'm coming down.
me: No, Mom. You don't have to come down today.
Mom: Okay, I'm coming down tomorrow after work. Just think about happy stuff. Funny animal videos, what about your barn with all the rescue cows that you like on Facebook? Go watch Veggie Tales. Don't think about court, just focus on happy things. Then come home and you can sleep and watch good, happy movies.
me: O-o-o-o-k-a-a-a-a-a-y *sobs, apnea, sobs, apnea*
Mom: I love you. Stay with me, I need you okay? I love you so much.
me: I love you too Mom.
We hung up.
My group was so supportive. I showed up 30 minutes late and looked like crap. My eyes were red, splotchy, swollen, and glassy. I apologized for being late and they said no problem, are you okay? I replied that I was okay and that I was just having one of the worst days. They were so sweet and just told me that they made me the dad in our little skit. I said, "I am so sorry! Are you sure I can't help anymore? I feel really bad I'm so late!" They told me it was okay. I said I was going to go ahead and go home, I wasn't staying for class. I said I had been at the courthouse all morning dealing with legal stuff and I was just stressed beyond belief. They told me to go home and get some rest. They asked if it all got sorted out but didn't press me for details because they saw I didn't want to talk about it.
How can my group, with a couple of the nosiest and most gossipy girls I have ever met in my life, be able to accept that I didn't want to talk about it? Yet, Jersey expects me to share all details of my life and then she wants to go share it with everyone she passes on the street and ever single person in our class? I don't get it!
So, I was there for a solid 5 minutes before leaving.
I headed home, but stopped by Brother's work on my way there. I told him what had happened and the tears started before the story. He came around the counter and hugged me for a solid 10 minutes while I just stood there grasping onto him for dear life, as if I were drowning, and sobbing into his shirt. My sleeves were soaked with the tears I had been wiping since I left for the group project and that was after changing sweatshirts because my other sweatshirt's sleeves were beyond soaked. So many tears!
He told me to go home, take a nap, and not worry about anything else that I needed to do that day. Then, text him when I woke up and let him know I was okay. I asked if mom had called him and he said she had. "Was she worried about me" I asked. "Yeah, she's super concerned but didn't really tell me why."
My poor family, having to deal with this crap from me. I know they love me, but I feel like such a burden because this will never end. In fact, this is all about to get significantly harder.
Next day, (Friday) was counseling. I hadn't gone on Tuesday for my session because my clinical schedule was changed without much warning. So, I only had one session this last week. That's not good. I'm on a two session a week schedule because I just can't handle my head for more than a couple days at a time on my own.
Counselor told me, first thing, that Advocate had talked with me. She asked if I wanted to talk about it. I said sure and went on for a couple minutes. I told her what the Advocate and Judge told me. She looked concerned. Then I asked if Advocate says what she told me to everyone. I asked if Advocate usually says that it can be taken farther and that a Lawyer should be consulted to get my case heard and the restraining order put in place. Counselor said that she has never seen Advocate try so hard to fight for a case. That is encouraging. I figured it was just the norm, but I guess she sees the danger that I'm sensing here. I told Counselor that I thought the Judge did too and that I thought she actually wanted to give it to me, but was hesitant because of the exact wording of the law. Counselor told me to believe that thought.
So, I went from feeling absolutely insane because I was denied a protection order, because I thought that meant the judge didn't believe me, to now believing that these women actually see the danger and the scariness of the situation but we have to work around the laws.
Guys, I'm telling you, this back and forth is making my head hurt. However, it's encouraging to have so many women who have seen other cases who all want to fight for me because they believe me when I tell them what has happened.
I don't know where I'm going from here or what will happen, but that's for the L-rd to know and orchestrate.
I heard from someone who I recently met, that ex-fiance is well known for beating girls and for being a sex addict... Yikes. This makes me so sad that I ever had to meet him. I hate that my story has gone from a happy, kind girl, to a story of so much pain that I don't even want children or a boyfriend/husband anymore.
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