Thankful

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I am thankful I woke up today. I am thankful I am still alive. I am thankful for the people in my life who I can trust to see me and know that absolute hell is being rained down upon me and has been for a very long time. I am thankful that he was not successful in killing me or breaking me down until I couldn’t get up. I’m glad I always got up. I’m glad I never gave up. I’m glad I never gave him the satisfaction. I’m glad for my strength. I’m glad that I still have my voice in spite of the fact that he picked me up and threw me into a desk, trying to make me lose mine after I had surgery.

I have been straight-up struggling. I am worn out, done with this fucking guy, and verging on shouting out what is going on with a megaphone. Or really, just parking myself at the appropriate distance from Ucf, so as not to be violating any orders, and handing out QR codes for the evidence, the story, photos, and a petition. Then there’s the other side of me that’s having a hard time getting out of bed every day. That second part is the hard one of the two.

Yes. The louder I speak the worse the punishment becomes for me and my children. It’s been at fever-pitch for so long I’ve forgotten what anything else feels like. That’s why I haven’t been able to escape for twenty years. I always back down. Not this time. If you are supporting my abuser, you are supporting a man who would rather us be dead, than be able to have a realities and the abuse we suffered validated and known. I’ve validate that abuse for myself and my children, even as he tries to blackmail me in writing to get me to say otherwise.

I’ve started a whole self-care routine to help myself get through what is constantly brewing in my surroundings. It’s been a long time since I felt the absolute need to do so it has also been a very long time since I have been able to take care of the basic things that I used to take for granted. He won’t afford us that time. Instead he drags us through the court system to dare us to speak up over what he has done and what he is doing to a mother, the mother of his two children.

And after abusing us physically and psychologically and sexually, and after acting like a complete lunatic in our home so that my kids and I had to escape to hotels and friends houses, he is trying to drive me straight into bankruptcy and homelessness, and take full custody of our kids so that I cannot certainly then stop his abuse. He wants to keep getting away with it. If you are supporting my abuser, you are letting him get away with it. He just took 8k more from me so now I am $13,000 indebted to him after losing all but $40,000 of my equitable distribution while he sits on 600 K. He wants to put me back where he got me, in the homeless category. Destitute. He pulled me in when I was in that position as his student and he knew I did not have any means to escape him, and now as I continue to try to escape him, he continues to try to drive me and our children into the ground and use us to torment each other because he harms us so that we are sad for each other and flaunts in our faces that he’s been able to get away with it because the people who can help us believe him and not us.

The Power and Control Wheel

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In 2019, after repeatedly assaulting me physically and sexually, my abuser went to Batterer’s Intervention at A No Abuse.

Abusers abuse for power and control. The desire for more power and control comes when victims assert their own right to autonomy and freedom.

In this audio clip from 2013, my abuser admits to abusing me for 10 years to maintain power and control over me. 10 more years followed.

You can also hear the PTSD tic I developed of clearing my throat. Four years later, it would completely take my voice and require surgery. It was in recovery from that surgery that I was thrown into a desk by my abuser and badly injured.

I regret not telling anyone what was happening to me at that time. I felt I couldn’t. I feared he would do more to harm me and my children. As I’ve come out to the world about how we were abused by this man, he has followed through on threats to harm me. The difference today is that I’m not a victim in silence anymore. I’m a survivor fighting for freedom from abuse and another’s power and control over me and my children.

This is not about winning or harming him. This is about stopping abuse and protecting myself and my children — as it has always been.

Isolation Drills

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10 years ago, after my husband isolated me from my children by blocking them from calling me while I was away for work for two weeks in Spain, I moved out. I had been working with a therapist who encouraged me to get support outside the relationship. She was also our marital therapist.

When I moved, this man forced his way into my home. This is one recording from that time. His crazymaking is like this – going from talking about filing for divorce to accusations about me sleeping with colleagues and his right to harass me and publicly humiliate me at our children’s little league games by accusing me in front of two teams of parents. The point was to isolate me and demand that we were married and that he was not going to let me go.

This is how I handled myself for twenty years in abuse until my fear grew too great and I started to insist harder on my freedom. Now he does this to me in court and to our children in his home.

It may not seem like much but when you cannot escape the abuse and this is how control over you is maintained, it’s significant. It has caused me and my children to suffer from extreme anxiety and PTSD. Part of our healing is raising awareness of what is happening to us until it’s not happening anymore.

This man threatened our lives if i ever told on him. I have lived in fear of that threat for many years. I refuse to be afraid anymore. The threat is still very real to me, but I will not suffer in silence as doing so means that this will continue indefinitely.

I am a disabled woman experiencing disabling abuse and financial and legal exploitation. I am standing up for me and my children.

The Capacity to Adapt and Thrive

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I know who I am. It’s true that sometimes I respond from fear. It’s also true that sometimes I am not acting out of fear. I don’t “give” people power over me. I cannot control whether people have ulterior motives or the extent they will go to achieve that power. I can control whether I take it inside of me.

I cannot protect my children from harm, protect threats to their physical and mental health, with fear inside me. Fear disables me, as that fear’s intention. I cannot protect my children or guide them out of coercion or threats or fear while I myself and disabled by both. Plus, it makes me a picture perfect version to fit the lies IF I let fear win.

No one should attempt to frame a domestic violence or sexual assault victim or imprison them on false pretenses. No one should lie about the mental health of someone with PTSD or panic disorder to erode their support system or silence them from speaking up for their rights. No one should contact others on behalf of a disabled person to claim they are faking a disability or using it for wrongdoing.

I cannot control that state employees, educators, and police have ignored my pleas for help.

What I can do is remember my integrity, dignity, balance, meditation, prayer, and who I am deep down—that part of me cannot be touched if I am mindful not to let it be eroded by fear.

I’ve been threatened with jail since February 2024. I’ve been declared a flight risk on an approved flight out of the country. I’ve received threats from someone to come into my home and throw away my belongings. My deadbolt has been busted, and my cameras have been turned away after I took action to protect myself from these threats. I’ve had someone file for full custody of my children anticipating my being homeless. I’ve had to move twice because people keep spreading untrue things about me to get others to harass me. I have a landlord on camera unannounced banging on my door to scare me during a work meeting.

I’ve been called “not credible” because of lies someone else tells to keep me in this situation.

Those lies cannot touch who I am inside unless I let them.

Last night, I dreamed someone came to me and asked for my help. It was a person who has put me through all this.

In my dream, they guilted me for not supporting them and doing for them what they needed to do for themselves. They attacked me as I told them “no.” I explained that they had harmed me while I was going through stage three cancer and now wanted my sympathy because they feared their own colonoscopy. “Will you really turn your back on me? What if I do have cancer?”

They simultaneously berated me for being heartless while mocking me for acting like what I went through was such a scare for me, the same way they did in regard to sexual assault. They asked for my medical records to prove what I was saying was true and accused me of making it up.

In my dream, I remembered that I owe zero explanation with my “no.” No, I won’t go through this anymore. No, I won’t help someone harm me because they say need to be exonerated to be okay. No, I won’t be mentally or spiritually imprisoned so someone else can be set free. These weren’t my actions. They aren’t my amends to make.

What I said in my dream is true in life. My motives may be misconstrued, but my speaking up for myself is not intended to harm another. Simply, my “no” means just that — no, without emotion or fanfare.

I have tried all the ways that lawyers, doctors, therapists, psychiatrists, and authorities have advised me to resolve this. Little by little, fear has crept in. Fear and I do not coexist well in my broken body. Fear and my brain come out like bitter bile. Fear and my words spill over, and I begin to sound pushy or entitled to my human rights.

When my voice trembles in fear and terror, others may hear it as anger. But I get to speak for myself. I am not angry, bitter, and do not wish harm. I seek only justice and our freedom.

I forget that freedom is an internal job. Toni Morrison taught me that in Beloved.

Some people believe that abuse is a gift given to those who don’t deserve sympathy or mercy. They tell their victims that they are lucky to be loved because they are otherwise ugly and undeserving. When people speak about being abused, I hope you can take this thought and know it’s the logic abusers use to keep victims from support systems – to keep victims from becoming survivors. I hope that you, reader, can understand that staring in horror at an abuse survivor validates that logic, albeit unintentionally, causing survivor’s to unbecome.

I have been told that more flies are caught with honey. Honey was poisonous to me, and when I put it in my mouth, my jaws spit it out. When I was a child, my grandparents taught me that the world finds a woman who spits to be vile. They were right.

My upcoming week is focused on being in song and living in spirituality and prayer. In song and prayers, I feel, safely. If you pray, please pray that my children and I have the strength to weather this. If you send thoughts to the universe, ask it to reveal truth and justice and freedom. If you live in gratitude, send some for the days when we are able to use positive coping skills while living in crisis.

It wasn’t easy being a woman who survived by hiding what was going on behind closed doors. It isn’t easy being a woman who is opens the door to show what is happening in the steeple. Life is not easiness; life is ease. We are all human, and some of us are fighting to be full human beings. I choose ease instead of indignance so that I can access human dignity, grace, compassion, forgiveness, hope, love, and friendship. I betray myself when I allow him to control me with his invisible powers or his flying monkeys or his trampling my peace of mind.

Previously, being broken down was a method of imprisoning, entrapping, and framing me. Today, breaking down is a method of breaking through. This weekend, I will release the pain and harm, a little here and a little there, as I walk forward and out of the fog of abuse.

History tells me this will not be the last stand for him. His story about me will be heard again in a court of law on 9/20/24. Please pray for me, my children, my abuser, his attorney, mine, law enforcement, and my support system—that as I walk forward, I remember to be an example or that the work of peace and justice can shine through me instead of the darkness within which I hid for so long.

I will keep moving forward, no longer frozen in fear, no longer watching my back. It does not serve me or anyone else for me to watch in dread, horror, terror, or anticipation.

If you know anyone in a domestic violence situation, please encourage them to do the same as they walk away and back into themselves after being hijacked by inhumane treatment.

On my mirror now for five years, the words of Benjamin Franklin have been my mantra to continue walking through the door out of gaslighting, manipulation, and malfeasance: “Do not anticipate trouble, or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight.”

May the sunlight continue to be a powerful force and focal point to guide people like myself through the cold chill that situations like this send down our spines or may it warm our voices as they shiver wet from tears. Until next time, thank you, friends, for allowing me to be human and humane—to the people who harm us, but especially to my children, family, friends, and myself.

Even Sugar Coated Him Needs a “Trigger Warning.”

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She had gotten over her two years of falling apart,

gotten over the smoking of 30 cigarettes a day and 28 at night,

gotten over Stockholm, daily panic nightmares, fear,

gotten over excuses, lies, the walking out, her and her kids’ cries, everyone’s heart breaking

gotten over the attachments, the ruined holidays, the threats and their aftermath, the bodily harm,

gotten over being trapped, used, abused, and her purpose your sexual fantasy and pleasure even when she said no,

gotten over the friends who her kids called aunt and uncle as if true relations, turning their backs and believing his lies that she was crazy when she was dead-serious sane,

they had all gotten over the way he got over people, and onto them when unwanted and unwarranted,

gotten over giving in, giving up on themselves, like others had, giving, giving, giving until they had given it all.

instead of giving in anymore, they found that they could get away from the institutions who say they believe women and their children but don’t: Title IX’s supposed care for students, police officers, courts, social investigators who thought their story was preposterous, rehearsed, and part of her bad motives.

she had gotten over caring whether they believed her, wasting her words and time with people who wouldn’t fact-check evidence or, worse, lied about her based on hearsay, straw man arguments, and “diagnoses,”

she always knew she would never be what he said, words she read aloud to her friends shortly after they started dating, 23 years before she unlocked the cage in which he kept them and finally got away from his triggering

and she relieved them of the burden of ever needing to confront his demons again for him by deciding to allow him to tell on himself because even his sugarcoated narrative can’t hide what he is and had done to them.

Spacetime

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My head is in the space place,

but I try to drag it down.

Backwards spinning minute hand.

A panic pardoned inmate

only knows reign and remand.

Torn eyes held you with paperweights.

But gravity wasn’t worth the wait.

C. June 23, 2014

Request for Asylum

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Dear family and friends,

I am speaking publicly as a last resort. If you feel encouraged or inspired to help my children and me — ie stop criminal behavior against us — not to cause anyone else harm but to remove ourselves from the enormous weight that we are not agreeing to carry, but being forced to — often crumbling under the pressure and gasping for air while our heads are pushed under water by the foot in our face.

You can reach out privately if you wish to know how to help us.

About <3 Me

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In our culture, women are who men say they are.

T-R-I-G-G-E-R__W-A-R-N-I-N-G

I started this blog during a Spain trip that I took with the college where I am employed. My previous blog was about the tragedies and realities of my life and my falling in love as a young woman. This blog was going to be my blog of freedom.

I’ve waited for 10 years for him to be held accountable, and then waited 10 more years, because he threatened my and my kids lives if I tell what he has done and is doing to us. I was going to make a leap of faith that I could escape a horribly abusive relationship where I was only worthy when he required sexual pleasure and demanded it. It didn’t matter if our kids were around.

“If I protested, then” was always a threat. If I just “lay back and thought of England,” he could get it over without the need for all the abuse. Then, he’d rage, degrade, and abuse rather than wave the white flag. “Lay back and think of England” — good ole tongue-in-cheek statement that he’d tell to our friends about our sex life when we would see them. During these moments, he’d generally spend the entire time silently degrading and humiliating me, while I smiled and tried to ignore all of it to take the higher ground and not play into his mania.

Before and after these events, before and after job obligations, before and after school events and vacations, he’d escalate it every time no matter if I “behaved” or not, in front of our children.

He used his sexual assault as a joke. He used my sexual assault as a joke about me. He used my sexual assault as a joke about me while he sexually assaulted me. He made my whole life and my babies childhood a joke.

He is not who he says he is. I am not who he says I am.

He wants the world to thing a am a seriously delusional, mixed-up rape victim who is not an equal — just a pseudomujerliberada.

He used both of my grandparents’ deaths to ensnare me, lovebombing for longer periods of time, and then fewer and fewer in between until the last several years, sliced though into too many pieces to count with his through-and-through, hurricane-rage, and now like then, he uses our children for this purpose.

He likes to let us suffer to our dying last breath and dare us to hold him accountable because he spared our lives. I suffer watching them suffer. They suffer watching me suffer. We suffer and bob and gasp for air, waiving at all the people on the shore.

“Everything is awful.””Everything is madness.” “Everything is suffering.” These are his “jokes.” They are not “jokes.” He pretty much means everything he says, but the delivery betrays the meaning nearly every time.

I will be punished until he gets his way, and he will stoop as low as to use my fears surrounding my sexual assault and the sexual assault of my 70-year-old neighbor by someone who staked out her house in the corner of our yards at my childhood home to frighten me and make me afraid of living alone in 2014 when he began fraudulently repeated to anyone who’d listen a fake diagnosis of me as “Gone Girl.

I might awake to him attacking me, while I was sleeping, but he wanted me to believe that this was better than the alternative stranger, another fear he played upon. That the neighbor was stalked by someone at the fence where a child-molesting neighbor stood and told me to come over with his finger, and I ran as hard and as fast as I could.

He would not have known any of this information about me if he wasn’t so good at portraying himself as a feminist, a woman supporter, a person who “believes women,” an advocate, an ally, a mentor, and a man who deeply loved the student he entrapped and abused from 23 to the present day through a series of smoke and mirror magic tricks.

While as a child, I saw the predator for what he was, I didn’t see this predator coming. He camouflages himself with his degree, his position as a tenured professor, his fake persona, which he takes immense pleasure at being good at using to keep help from our reach, legally, emotionally, psychologically, physically — there’s not a part of my life that his poison hasn’t touched.

He lured me as his cultural studies student in 2002, turned slave intern, never amounting to anything good, using Ani Difranco, whose lyrics fit him to the “T,” and he probably loves that. It’s difficult to be the woman who stands up and says everything she thinks and feels about her abuse, but I have to stand up because I am not what he says and because our children are watching and waiting and hoping for my and their voices to be heard and matter.

I have several experts and 4 years of legit journals that tell exactly who he is – “a danger to T and the kids” – and when someone slides under this many safeguards undetected like he has, I have to say what is going on because I know what he’s really capable of — how he sexually assaults and projects all of his wrong doings onto others (colleagues, friends, family, me, his children) — how he befriends people who affect my employment, my education, my reputation, and my escape.

Welcome to my life as we find out the answer to the question of what exactly he is capable.

I’ve disappeared like every woman in every literary and media trope of the theories that represent the entirety of English Faculty and the problem known as the PhD Program. The PhD Program Problem is that it began as a non-disciplinary terminal degree program in a disciplinary department. This particular professor and quite a few others in this terminal program aren’t even disciplinary.

A professor has committed acts of lethal force against me. I’ve disappeared into thin air, his “Coquette.” My entire thesis is on men selling women back into slavery, his idea, not a joke, but his sick pleasure. Some people don’t believe that he’s been doing it to me for 20 years because they think he’s a nice guy and they believe his messed up story about how I’m “Gone Girl” — a film reference unironically for the “film” professor who wants to be forever “hip.”

That’s why he wants cultural studies – to stay one step ahead of his victims. He’s doing a cultural study, seeing how long his prey will squirm and not get away, seeing what they will do while his victims are pinned down with his middle-school-eque book report on their life according to him — such a piece of writing that names to two therapists who would never want their name attached to such a farce. All the while, he represents himself as an expert on torture, witnessing torture, personality disorders, and a variety of sexual assault related films.

And I’m sorry, my “friends,” have we met?

Too many look at me through the lens he’s presented. So forgive me, but this is my site where I am going to be who I am.

He took my voice away figuratively and literally and he’s still doing it himself, through our children, through people on the board of directors at the college where I work, my realtor, my friends, my loved ones, my family, our kids’ family. There’s only one kind of person I know who can manipulate doctors to betray their oath, social investigators to betray their oath and to betray two innocent minor children, Attorneys and judges to betray their oaths.

I was just adjudicated as a parental alienator because I give my kids a sense of reality when their father tells them they don’t know what reality is. When I stop helping them ground themselves, they will be in the same dark place he kept me, as he mocks me and them with, by, and through DCF/CPS/TheCourt/TheLaw.
MyNewLandLord

This was my story. But for this mother’s day, I’m gifting myself my voice and my right to use my voice against terrorism, conspiracy, fraud, neglect, abuse, perjury, defamation, libel, factitious disorder, factitious disorder imposed upon another.

He clearly states in four years of journals that he doesn’t really see anything wrong with his behavior, admits that he’s dangerous, states that he does it for the power, attention, sympathy, and esteem, making people sick, neglecting his “loved” ones when they are truly injured, telling them they are lying, making them so stressed they vomit, then writing gleefully about it, with a sick pleasure beyond what most people can imagine if they haven’t experienced this in life, and hopefully, you, readers, have not. Too many people I know have.

I will write myself and my children back into validity and out of this abuse. It’s the reason I pursued the education I did. He was supposed to be an advocate in that writing. Instead, he stole and is stealing our lives, and if you have been charmed by his charismatic puppetry and his imaginary world, you are aiding and abetting him in his conspiracy to continue isolating us and keeping us from lifting this heavy weight and moving on with our lives.

I won’t beg anymore for our freedom. I hope that he and anyone who conspires with him is punished to the full extent of the law as people should be when helping a predator. I’m attempting to remove the stigma from myself, and I’m waiting for the world to realize he’s just another person the media, my alma-matter, his attorney, and his supporters will say, “just seemed like a really nice guy.”

He has threatened my and my children’s lives, murder-suicide, if I speak up, and more recently attempting full custody of our children, declaring me a flight risk during my kids and I’s first trip to Paris, stealing my home, making us live without a roof over our heads, and trying to get me sent to prison.

Thank you for not standing in the way of our justice and freedom, and for helping us in any way you can. The best help would be attorney and reporting to the local colleges and universities, their humanities/English programs, the Seminole County Court, Anna Eskamani, Gov. Ron Desantis’s office, A No Abuse (where he attended Batterer’s Intervention after using deadly force, sexually assaulting me multiple times, and depriving me and my children peace, dignity, and human rights) the police and alerting others to the dangers this predator represents for our community — teaching young adults and dual enrollment students who are just as naive and vulnerable as I was, while trying to keep me and my kids under a gag order and from achieving the freedom of removing the weight that he forces us to carry for him so that he can continue using Factitious Disorder Against Another to gain sympathy and attention for himself.

yours truly,
<3psuedomujerliberada