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This Aint TV

February 19, 2014

On TV, some “fix my house” people would have turned this old overgrown shack into a palace by now.  I wouldn’t still be driving a truck that was nearly my funeral pyre and crematorium all rolled into one, and I would never have to worry about my ridiculously high electric bill, the bomb-truck breaking down, or how to buy a dress for my oldest kid’s Winter Formal, her new track shoes, and when I have to start stocking 3 times more feminine hygiene products, when sometimes, being able to afford tp for a house full of girls is a stretch. Alas, this is not a reality show, or some fantasy porn where strangers and their production crews swoop in and shower me in confetti and bring my kids pet unicorns.  Despite my story reading like some shitty Lifetime Channel movie feature, no one is watching.

jack people who give a fuck

  In all fairness, that’s not entirely true – a few very close people are watching.

On an official level, I have one person, just one, who is following up on every promise to the best of her ability.  She is supporting my decision to be very public about my situation, even though all her training and experience makes her want to guide me into a life in the shadows.  Her typical clients are hunted like dogs and are in constant fear to being beaten to death – there are no ‘unhaaaaaapy’ bored housewives looking for divorce-cash-and-prizes. My personal predator is incarcerated, he is no less dangerous than some asshole who wants to hunt down some woman “just so no one else can have her” but, thankfully, I don’t have to move constantly from place-to-place.  My life is a luxury compared to some and I am magnitudes of order more grateful for the things most people take for granted than I can even begin to express.  My current, nearly-constant torment, is at the hands of the system that purports to protect me.  My Advocate (her official title, BTW) is a wonderful person, to make this easier, I am going to refer to her as “Angel”… I have a hard enough time remembering her real given name vs. the name she uses ‘professionally’… so Angel seems appropriate.

Angel is the one person who asks the hard questions and the smart ones, and the hardest one of all.  The first question is pretty standard, “Do you think you are in danger?” Everyone, and I mean everyone asks me this one, simple question… to which, I can only answer:

sherlockNo, Shit????

The second question I am constantly asked is, “What will you do if ‘they’ let him out?”

Answer: They are going to let him out. Maybe not this time, maybe not for the next few times.  Meanwhile, the girls and I sorta-half-assed practice shooting, we are learning to lock the doors of the house and vehicles like ‘regular’ people put on their seatbelts.  We are not militant about any of it.  We don’t check the rose bushes outside for hidden strangers in the dark, and I don’t go in and ‘clear’ the house before letting the kids inside… although it IS tempting.  I let the girls walk to school, the store and friends’ houses without keeping them under surveillance and want them to have as normal of a life as I can possibly provide.  We will step it up a bit, but not that much will change, except at that point, the point of “release” I will erase all emotion from my decisions.  Everything will be logic-based and every move I make will be based on ‘constant vigilance’.  A ‘normal person’ that did that would be seen as paranoid or easily diagnosed as some sort of extra-special type of OCD.  Imagination or paranoia don’t hold a candle to a measured reaction to a real threat. 

(That, and the Sheriff told me that he would “come find me” if he found out that I was making my kids live like prisoners.

Angel asked the only question that was hard to answer.  “Who is supporting you?”

I have friends.

Family?

Mom is cool with me going public, sister, not so much, but she’s a drama queen.

Who else?

I have friends and supporters, some online.

Who is supporting you in real life, on a daily basis?

Silence, followed by protest.

Mom is going this weekend to watch a sporting event where she has no grandkids participating instead of watching my kids’ last ball games and she took my daughter shopping over the phone last night instead of being here in person for any of us.  My “best friend” is busy with a new girlfriend.  A guy that took me out a couple of weekends ago would be at my beck and call if only I asked., but it’s not a close relationship by any means.  My employer ( a “dad” of sorts) supports me no matter what, but he and his wife aren’t going to come sit with me on a rough day… I have one “friend” (?) who took me to an event last weekend.  We talk nearly every day online and yes, we have seen each other in person.  I met him one-on-one for my first outing alone since my ex was arrested.

So, no one?

Angel is pretty sure that online friends, sometime friends, people who will help in a pinch don’t count as support.  I just wonder, does she think that someone is supposed to follow me around with cameras?  It’s not that exciting…. It looks like this:

set3My “date” for a big, local event – the day after I “came out” publicly…

built it or buy it

Pic from the event I went to last weekend with my mostly online guy…

None of it is fabulous, but the consistency is comforting and it’s not TV, but hot production lights and camera crews probably aren’t all that comforting when I am shaving my legs or yelling at the kids about doing chores.  My comforts may seem small and few to others, but they are all I have to hang onto.  That and waiting to my #1 friend to be online so we can talk about car stuff.  Eh,small daily comforts, that and waiting for your comments.

Meanwhile, I have some little things to work on around the house.  I am waiting to hear if I am selected for this, and my middle kid finished up refurbishing another antique bike.  Small blessings are the biggest, just keep the camera crews to yourself for a bit.

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