Nurses and Trauma Bonding with their Patients

If you look online at how nurses talk about “never keeping in touch with a former patient” “because it’s wrong” or “a gray area” or a whatever self righteous reason, it’s a fact that many health care providers do, in fact, end up befriending a former patient eventually.

We meet so many people and take care of them sometimes for weeks or even months at a time. It’s not possible to remain emotionally distanced completely from all of them in every single case. Everyone I have worked with in health care has had at least one former patient that they absolutely had to keep in touch with. I’m not even talking about sexual relationships or even close friendships, just eventually we all meet a person or a few that we connect with and can’t just not ever follow up on in any way. That’s just the honest truth.

In my case, I worked briefly for an extremely chaotic and understaffed company that also had poor training. All of the staff was brand new and we were all extremely stressed out due to lack of experience, training and support.

For example, there was no typical day where I worked (short term detox). And it was never just an 8 hour shift. We all ended up staying late, sometimes for hours later to catch up on charting, finish other work or fix mistakes which we should never have made in the first place had we not been in a “sink or swim” situation.

One of my last days at this company, I came in to find two brand new nurses had worked the day shift and they had alot of left over tasks that they hadn’t been able to finish during their shift. And because I was new also, I couldn’t really answer their questions either. So there would be a frantic and rushed report on the patients (often with missing information) and some crisis that was ongoing and would need to be dealt with before getting out of hand.

That day, one of my patients was basically given too much medication on the day shift and was sick as a result. It was clearly at the point when I arrived that he should have been sent to the hospital earlier that day for treatment that our facility couldn’t provide. And of course, there had no been much training on this process of sending a patient out. So I winged it. Sent him in to the ER for an enema and IV fluids. And I’m glad I did. He returned later on my shift because the emergency room on a Saturday night in the city was actually LESS busy than my position (!)

So aside from having to take over an hour dealing with that emergency that should have been dealt with before I got there, I had several other patients with needs, also. These people were withdrawing from all kinds of substances and sometimes withdrawal can be extremely serious and even fatal if not managed correctly.

I managed to get through the rest of my shift with only one error that I was aware of- an error that was the result of the company’s terrible charting system. So a very preventable error. The nurse I was working with was also new and she could not handle half of her patients, so I ended up having to do some of her work, also. The patients knew that they weren’t going to get service anytime soon from this other nurse because 1. She was new 2. Had time management issues and 3. Did not know how to prioritize at all.

It was frustrating to me to have her constantly asking me questions because I had worked there exactly as long as she had- three days! She didn’t seem to be in any rush to get anything done and seemed to have no qualms staying hours past her shift. I was not willing or able to stay for that long past a shift. We already did not get breaks. At all. No lunch break, nothing.

Places I have worked before, there was time to actually double check that things were correct before doing them. Here, that was not possible and also new nurses were set up for failure because we did not have the resources or even a complete policy manual. Half of our time was spent trying to navigate the computers- and of course we had nobody to call for IT.

So ultimately, it was very difficult for me as a nurse who prioritizes safety and policy- but probably harder on the patients because they were not getting competent care. So many errors were made by everyone that it was viewed as part of the job. The nurse managers motto was “But did anyone die??”

Well, not yet. But statistically, eventually one or more of those errors would be a very serious one. I did not want to be there for that. I understand why this place is short staffed now. And why I was the third nurse that week to quit without notice.

I am pretty sure the company is concerned that I plan to report them. They should be concerned.

This is a medical detox center, not sure if I mentioned that. Somehow, the patients don’t stay longer than 5 days. The more I’ve thought about that, the more ridiculous it seems that someone is fully detoxed off of anything within 5 days. I actually think that’s when withdrawl symptoms tend to peak. So it’s no surprise that most patients return here frequently.

You meet alot of different people with turnover like that. Every week, it would be a new group of patients. I always enjoyed them to an extent- found them likable and felt empathetic towards them most the time. Some I would joke around with a bit and I enjoyed that too.

I couldn’t see how anyone would end up dating a former patient here until I locked eyes with a patient and was immediately struck dumb. My tongue was as tied and I knew I was blushing. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I believe in spotting my type at first sight and I knew that’s what had happened.

And of course, he turned out to be my patient for the weekend. Among others, of course. To my horror, I continued to trip over my words and blush furiously whenever I interacted with him. And his personality was everything I expected based on my reaction to just seeing him. He was laid back, kind of rebellious, into science fiction and nerdy things (like myself- I mean I’m also into nerdy things) and just overall fun to talk to. What I noticed the most was that we had a shared sense of humor. We would chat and then laugh together for like 5 full minutes about something that nobody else understood.

I was pretty bummed out that after that weekend, it was unlikely that I would ever see him again. I was also bewildered by how dumbstruck I was around him. It was like he had a physical effect on me that I absolutely could not control and I don’t remember ever having felt that way before. I was tripping over my words, blushing uncontrollably and fidgety to the extreme.

One factor, that I couldn’t tell anyone, not at work, certainly not a patient, was that I had nearly run out of one of my prescription medications (one that causes pretty intense withdrawal) and that I had needed to cut my dose in half just to avoid full blown withdrawal symptoms. So I do kind of wonder if maybe some of my behavior was a result of the fact that while I was taking care of people in withdrawal, I was literally in physical withdrawal myself. The irony did not escape me.

I was sweating visibly on moment, then shaking the next. I was anxious, irritable, kind of in a daze and just feeling on edge. I could sense my heart rate was pretty high. I ignored these symptoms as best as I could. Looking back, I wonder how the patients would have reacted knowing that their nurse was suffering the same way that they were?

So, this patient who had such an effect on me. I managed to get past my tongue tied speaking and ended up chatting with him certainly more than I chatted with others. Because I enjoyed it. He made me laugh. Not just chuckle, belly laughs. I just plain enjoyed his company. He was interesting too and it seemed we had a lot of interests in common.

However, I knew then and now that it is extremely unlikely that there could be any sort of future between he and I. For one, he is addicted to fentanyl and other substances- which is well known as extremely difficult to quit and also extremely dangerous to use. Many people who use fentanyl end up dying from it. Much more than alcohol, which is a slower death. Fentanyl tends to kill younger people and very suddenly. I would be nervous to care for someone who had an active addiction to this because I would be constantly worrying for his safety. And I wouldn’t want to love someone who could die at any moment.

Also, I have children and more of a “grown up” lifestyle. I have a car, insurance, a house, I’m a full adult who is busy with a lot of adult responsibilities. That I take seriously. Especially my children. I never put them lower on a priority list for any reason. I

I don’t think a guy who lives in government housing, likely doesn’t drive or work and doesn’t have responsibilities like I do would be able to support me in fulfilling my obligations. I’m not saying I never want to have fun. Although it IS true that “fun” is not something I prioritize (but I should).

I did date a guy for a few months last year who also did not have many responsibilities. He didn’t work, didn’t have to care for children, didn’t have any bills to pay really. He had grown used to that lifestyle even though he was in his 30s and he spent his days mainly smoking weed and watching movies. I would see him on weekends when I didn’t have my kids. And sometimes I would still have errands to run or something to get done and it was very difficult to get anything done with this guy around.

I went to visit him in Duluth one actually. A couple hours away. He would drive to me on weekends but this weekend, I drove to him. On Sunday, the day I had to drive back, he tried really hard to convince me to stay longer- knowing full well that I needed to pick my daughter up that evening. He just didn’t get it. I couldn’t let my daughter down. That’s what ended our relationship eventually. His inability to be an adult and the fact that I was committed to being one.

So I think this ex-patient would be similar, although he did seem more sensitive than the guy I dated.

I was certain that this patient was going to ask me for a way to get in touch with me after he left. But I wasn’t taking any chances, so I ended up slipping him my phone number even though he didn’t ask for it. He seemed happy and said he would definitely follow up.

But he didn’t. He just didn’t. He did not contact me.

Finally, a month or so later and in a moment of weakness, after I had left this horrible job- I messaged him. I did not have his phone number but I found him on social media. He messaged back. And we had little conversations.

I will admit, I was not in the greatest place in my life at that moment. I was drinking every day, for one. I was overwhelmed by the number of hours I was working at the detox and also by how shoddily the place was run. I was constantly in fear for my license. Everyone there made big mistakes, left and right. It was terrifying. Plus there was that one nurse who bullied me.

So I left on a whim. Put my notice in by email.

I was very disappointed that this position hadn’t worked out. Very much so. The pay was great, I really enjoyed the population and I felt like I had learned a great deal and had a natural talent for this. BUT the management kept finding ways to make the environment intolerable. Once I learned one thing and felt comfortable with it, they introduced something nobody was trained on, thus putting our entire department into a new tailspin.

I couldn’t take it anymore the day they suddenly started accepting patients on methadone. There was no protocol in the books for it, none of us has been trained on it, I was the only one who knew how serious methadone is because of my previous work in rehab. I wasn’t even sure if we were legally allowed to administer it or have it in the facility. Our doctor on call didn’t know either!

That combined with the bullying nurse who was on top of her bully game that evening ended it for me. I just refused to come back and work with her. I wasn’t sure if I was willing to come back at all.

So it was quite a disappointment that it didn’t work out but I don’t see how I could have done things differently.

So back to the ex patient. He and I kept up a halfhearted conversation by messaging every few days but I was so paranoid that I would get in trouble for it, I was very guarded in what I said. And I’m positive he relapsed right away. I could just tell the difference in his attitude. He changed as a person. He wasn’t the same person that I had taken care of in detox and laughed and chatted with. He was now someone who seemed ambivalent about everything and uninterested in human contact, from what I could tell. That made me feel sad also. I really wanted to say something about it but again, I didn’t want my license to be in jeopardy over this so I kept my end of the messaging very superficial.

I am thinking once a year has passed since he was in my care, I can be more up front with him. Just be honest about the fact that I couldn’t be much of a friend at the time and also tell him straight out that I can’t be a friend any of the time if he’s using.

I am not sure what went on between he and I at the detox. If it was kindred souls meeting, two people who were vulnerable and made a connection or if he was just bored and toying with me. It still bugs me that I don’t know. But I’m not risking my license over it.

I did do alot of research on keeping in touch with former patients and the opinions are very mixed. With some stating that it’s absolutely unethical regardless of whether it’s as friends or acquaintances or what. But also based on what I’ve read, I think a lot of people who work in the medical field will face this dilemma at some time. Whether or not to keep in touch with a patient. While I agree that it’s improper to have a sexual relationship, I am not sure that I agree that it’s improper to not have a platonic friendship.

Family court will break you and force you to hide what you could have treated

You cannot go in for therapy. You cannot.

You cannot admit any personal defects. Against the rules. You must be perfect at all times. No exaggeration here.

Feelings are to be kept to oneself always. They are not allowed in family court. They are not allowed amongst parents- period. As long as the government is concerned- a fit parent has no feelings whatsoever.

Images

Apparently no images allowed

The Battle to Get My Son Diagnosed and Treated for Autism.

Getting my son in and diagnosed and treated for autism was kind of a battle. School system was too backed up evaluate right away and then they forgot about it! They actually forgot. I had to pull my son out of daycare because clearly he needed special attention. I changed my work hours to doubles on the weekends so that I could still have money.
I did alot of research on my own about autism. Didn’t know the first thing about it until my son was maybe 1.5 or 2 years old. I had asked doctors and such many times “is it normal that he doesn’t talk? I don’t think it’s normal”. At the age of 1, he was able to spell out (in those foam bath letters) “I love you”. I was flabbergasted. He couldn’t talk but he could spell?? At that age?? The first place I took him for help claimed to have done and IQ test. Against my consent. I was furious when they told me his IQ was basically that of a vegetable. He couldn’t talk so how could they test him? You can’t test someone’s IQ when they can’t even answer the questions!
I was also told by some other practitioner that “unfortunately most kids with autism are also mentally impaired” which I straight up did not believe.

I started asking family members if they’d seen this before. This was my first baby and I didn’t know what was “normal” and what was not. My father recalled that HIS father apparently had not spoken until the age of 6 and was classified as “slow”. But then when my grandfather began to talk, it was clear that his intelligence was high.

My son couldn’t talk until the age of 6 also. He couldn’t speak a word. He made noises. I was terrified that this was permanent. I even accepted that maybe he was not intelligent but that it would be my goal at least for him to be happy.

He had tantrums because he couldn’t speak. One time, I forgot to buckle him in to his seat in the car. I started to drive and he started screaming and kicking the back of my seat. I had no idea what the problem was. I pulled over to investigate and sure enough- his seatbelt wasn’t on and he knew it and that was his only way to communicate it to me. I buckled him up and the “tantrum” ended immediately.

I put him on a waiting list for an autism center that had excellent reviews. We waited for almost a year for him to start there. When I say “we”, I mean he and I. I couldn’t have him in daycare- he was miserable and didn’t interact with anyone. So Monday through Friday every week- I took him out most days to do fun things like going to the zoo or museum. I got used to narrating everything with him because I didn’t know what he knew or if he knew I loved him even.

I continued to work long weekend hours until he was accepted into the center. Then I drove him there during the morning, picked him up at noon and took him to special education in the afternoon. I took on waitressing during the week because as a nurse- I couldn’t work half a shift, go pick him up and then go back to work. I continued to work as a nurse on the weekend. Weekends he spent with his father. I asked that his father maybe take him during the week sometimes so that I could work but he said he “couldn’t” due to his desk job as a receptionist. I could have been making much much more money- twice what his father made by working during the week but I suspect also that with all the therapies I was taking my son to- that his father maybe couldn’t manage that. And it was a lot to manage. I felt kind of like his caseworker.

I spent the vast majority of my time looking for ways to make things better for him. I learned everything I could about autism.

In what felt like a miracle at the time, he began to speak. His speech was slow to come but it was coming!

So many times a well meaning stranger would say something to him and he would stare and I would be forced to say something like “he kind of doesn’t talk right now”. People couldn’t tell he had a disability by looking at him.

We had to switch schools a couple of times because he wasn’t getting the attention he needed or deserved. He was bullied at one school and I was forced to pull him out- while I was 8 months pregnant- because the administration wouldn’t address the bullying.

The new school was amazing. But he still had such a long way to go. A couple of times, the school tried to get me to put him in a center and I refused. Instead, I would come to his school and teach the staff how to behave with him. Eventually, his speech improved dramatically and his behavior problems all but ended.

He became an asset to the school. One of their favorite students. He was a model of kindness, compassion, humor and dedication. He was beloved by all and smart too. It’s like a dream now to think that I was told 12 years ago that he would never talk and was mentally handicapped for life. Nobody would believe it interacting with him now.

I am so so proud of him. He couldn’t have learned to talk and to behave without putting a lot of work into it himself. Sometimes people give me all the credit for his success. But I know he worked just as hard as I did to get better. And I love him all the more for his strength and how emotionally intelligent he is now at the age of 14. He will be a successful and happy adult now, I am sure of it.

Coparenting with the Narcissist: Part 2- From the Frying Pan Into the Fire

I had only been in a romantic relationship with the narcissist (Guy) for about a year and a half- at the most. But choosing to have a child with him ensured that the abuse would continue for many more years.

I didn’t know this when I chose to keep the baby. I was told by people who knew Guy that his father had abandoned him and that it was likely he would abandon his child. I was also told that his father had had his mother committed to a mental institution- just like he had attempted to do to me.

I had the baby an entire month early. It was a rough pregnancy. I was scared, tired, on edge all of the time and traumatized. I didn’t know how much worse things could get. I was about to find out when I was served with paperwork about three weeks after the baby’s premature birth from an attorney representing Guy- the paperwork asked for him to have the baby half the time, starting immediately.

Guy had never had experience with babies. He had shown me that he wasn’t very nurturing or even responsible when it came to pets and children. Guys ex-girlfriend told me (I should have taped this) that he once held a gun to his head in front of her children and threatened to blow his brains out.

Guy had a very frightening rescue dog- a large pit bull with psychological problems. The dog had bitten people- including children- and Guy had not told me this. I found out when the dog had attacked a neighbor and that neighbor called the police that the dog had a history of attacking people and this was no small dog. This dog was over a hundred pounds of muscle and very skittish. Guy didn’t really take care of him. I did. Guy put a spiked collar on the dog that caused the dog to have open skin lesions that Guy never treated.

These were part of the reasons I was uncomfortable with Guy taking our premature baby unsupervised immediately. I realized I had to find an attorney and fast to respond to his lawsuit. It wasn’t easy finding a lawyer and I didn’t know what to look for in one. I went though a few that made mistakes that really hurt my case. For example, one did not get the ex girlfriend’s testimony before claiming she had and by that point, Guy had found out that she was going to talk and threatened her kids. She did not testify after that.

I foolishly thought that the law would protect me and the kids. I had thought that the domestic violence would be taken into account and it wasn’t. It didn’t matter how much Guy lied or about what. The court did not seem to care.

To be continued..

Coparenting with a Narcissist: Part 1

This story is for my daughter, whom I hope will understand.

It’s been over seven years since I left my abusive ex boyfriend and I feel like the abuse continues just in a different way and I don’t know how much more I can take.

I dated the guy, let’s call him “Guy”, for a year and a half. Tops. Most of that time was miserable. We started dating very shortly after I had left my husband and was not even close to having recovered from that. I had changed my expectations after leaving my husband. I decided I no longer needed “Mr. Right”, just “Mr. Good Enough”. So I was never in love with Guy. I was mostly thinking “hey, we get along well enough, he helps me with my son, he’s okay”. One of the biggest mistakes I made in my assessment of his character was that he seemed really “laidback”. I later came to find out that he was and is the most controlling person I’ve ever known in my entire life. But I didn’t know what narcissists were then.

Guy was living rent free with his boss and his “rescue dog” when we first started dating. We bonded over a mutual dislike for our exes- he had been in a long term relationship with my husbands sister. I didn’t really question why he was living on his bosses couch when he clearly could easily afford his own place. It occurred to me as strange, but I didn’t pry.

Because I had a young son on my own and was paying all the bills- I wasn’t averse to help from Guy. I realize now that this was my biggest mistake. I assumed that since I had known Guy casually for a few years prior- that I really knew him. I was wrong. Guy put on an excellent facade for everyone but the people closest to him in his life.

I allowed Guy to move in with me and my son after maybe four months of dating. The only warning signs that Guy wasn’t a good guy were that he didn’t seem to have any friends and that he was definitely abusing substances. Alcohol and pain medication. But I let this go because he was a functional addict. I also didn’t realize the extent of his drug abuse until he moved in. I looked at the drinking and pain pills as a “oh he’s just having some fun on the weekend thing”.

As soon as he moved into my two bedroom condo, he scheduled back surgery. He went to great lengths to show me what was wrong with his back and why he needed surgery. I found that odd but again, just thought “okay he’s a little quirky”.

He showed me who he really was when I went to visit him at the hospital following his surgery. He was bitter, angry, hostile and extremely drugged. As a nurse myself- I was kind of shocked at how drugged he was. After some angry remarks that didn’t make a lot of sense to me at the time, I decided to not stay at the hospital for very long and went home, confused.

I tried to think “okay so he’s drugged and vulnerable”, that’s normal, right? Well yes I guess it was normal for him. He left the hospital the next day- with a cache of pain medication that made him seem like he was planning to open up his own pain clinic. He had every kind of pain medication imaginable. And in large quantities. Again, as a nurse, I was shocked. I’ve had surgery and given birth- the most I’ve gotten was a few Vicodins for a couple days.

Guy had everything. Percocet, Vicodin, ocycontin. And more that I don’t even know the names of. He hid the painkillers in the bedroom from everyone and proceeded to basically camp out in a reclining chair in the living room for the next two weeks while he took copious amounts of drugs and drank too. And he expected to be waited on. And he wasn’t very polite about it either. This is when I started to have serious doubts about the situation.

After he “recovered”- he seemed more the way he was initially again. He liked to shop, go out to eat fancy food and generally hang around very expensive places. He and I never had any meaningful conversations. I tried. He wasn’t interested in current events, politics, philosophy- none of that. Our conversations were almost small talk. He could be funny at times though.

After a while, I started to notice that he would have temper tantrums. Sometimes he would refuse to speak to me for something I said or did and I wouldn’t even know what the cause was. He hated that I worked full time. He often demanded that I spend less time at work. He also hated that I liked to rest on Sundays (my only day off). The list of things he hated about me seemed to grow and grow daily. He hated my friends. He hated my clothes. He started telling me how to dress and what kind of makeup to wear. He stopped cleaning at all. He would make a mess and then leave for me to clean up.

He started faking seizures. I actually believed he was having a seizure during an argument and called an ambulance. He made an instantaneous and remarkable recovery the moment the emergency personnel arrived. He never pretended to have a seizure again.

It seemed like he was going picking at me about everything. Nothing I did was right. I stopped talking to him and then he would criticize my eyebrow plucking. Things were very tense. All the time.

Throughout this decay of the “relationship”, I was under the mistaken impression that he and my son had formed a significant bond and that it would be wrong for me to break up with him. That I should try and stick it out for my son.

I never met Guy’s mother, but I spoke with her regularly. She was in an assisted living home in Georgia and it sounded as if she was terminally ill. I begged Guy to go and visit her. I said I would take time off work, I would even pay for the flight. He didn’t want to. I was flabbergasted but the way he blew it off- I thought “maybe he’s right? Maybe it’s not as bad as she says?”

Then I got pregnant. Guy was not happy. Not happy at all. He was very annoyed at the “inconvenience” and questioned whether or not I was “making it up”. At this point, I was feeling confused about his behavior towards me but I didn’t know it was abusive because he had only hit me one time.

During that short pregnancy, I couldn’t sleep but I was exhausted. I was excited about being pregnant but I couldn’t understand why Guy wasn’t. He and I had spoken early on in the relationship- I had said I wanted another child and he had said he wanted to become a parent.

After a month of pregnancy, I began to bleed and I knew it was over. I went to a gynecologist and brought Guy with me to confirm that I was no longer pregnant. The gynecologist called it a “chemical pregnancy” probably trying to make me feel better. He decided that meant that I had never been pregnant at all. And he told me, my family and anyone who would listen that I invented a pregnancy.

I was baffled and grieving. I couldn’t even think about why he was behaving this way. Also during this time, the way he treated me became more callous. We went to see a therapist together. The therapist ended up telling me that she wouldn’t see the two of us together and that I should come in on my own to deal with his abuse. I couldn’t process that at the time.

Whenever he was around, he was critical, mean, calling me names and insisting that I needed to be treated for my “extreme mental health condition”. I recognized that I needed mental health support- but I also realized that it was due the grief over the loss of the baby and the way he treated me. I voluntarily went into a psych unit for a few days. While I was there, a friend of mine sat me down and said “what are you doing here? There’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t belong here”. And I realized she was right.

I was overworked, stressed out and in a bad relationship but I wasn’t in need of being institutionalized. I realized that I needed to make some changes in my life. I quit my stressful job first and decided that I would end the relationship with Guy as soon as I got home.

But that’s not what happened. Not exactly. I let Guy have sex with me one time while I was working up my nerve to end it. To Guy, ending the relationship was a negotiation. It wasn’t just my choice. He once again tried to convince me of my mental instability, but this time, I knew he was being manipulative. Because he was basically refusing to leave, I made him sleep in my sons bedroom while my son slept in my bedroom. I figured out that Guy was abusive when I saw him fake crying and I did an internet search on it and came out with “crocodile tears and other manipulations”. I flat out told Guy that he was abusive and I was done.

Guy agreed to live elsewhere for some time. During this time that he was gone, I began to have symptoms of pregnancy. It was unmistakable. I know my body. I knew I was pregnant again.

Guy had agreed to return and change his ways. I told him I might be pregnant. He didn’t seem affected one way or another. I took a test and it was positive. I told him and he was indifferent. I told his mother and she was thrilled.

Because of the pregnancy, I hoped that things with Guy could improve. That he might be more considerate and…nice. But he wasn’t. He became more cruel, more judgmental, more controlling, more critical. He was insulting me daily about literally every move I made. Why was I tired? Why would I get annoyed that he refused to clean up after himself? Why did I need to speak to my friends? He wanted to completely “manage” the pregnancy, while at the same time expressing that he believed that I was “faking it” again. Why did I care that he was leaving his firearms and shells around the condo with my 7 year old son?

He was telling me I should have an abortion. He was trying to get me to drink alcohol and take drugs. And he claimed he didn’t understand why that would upset me.

I had enough one evening. We were arguing and I got so angry that I yelled at him. I realized at this point that he needed to leave. I would sort the rest out later. He said that if I told him to leave, he would call the police and tell them that I need to be institutionalized. I said “go ahead and call, just get out of here”.

I called my mother right away, crying. I told her what had happened and what he had said. Five minutes later, the police were at my door demanding to know what was going on.

Turns out, he had planned the entire call ahead of time with a therapist who he had seen under my name. A therapist that had never met me. He asked her who to have someone institutionalized against their will. He said I was a danger to myself and the baby. And that’s what he told the police too. I explained to the police that I had just asked him to leave and that I was no threat to myself or others. They told me I should consider getting a restraining order against him. They said this was “a common ploy”.

My son witnessed most of this. And that was the reason that I refused to reconsider allowing Guy back into my life at that point. My son was clearly traumatized and so was I. I later found out from family members that he had been calling them for months without my knowledge and telling them I was so delusional that I was faking pregnancies.

Guy did not go quietly. He called me all day, every day. Sometimes insulting me, sometimes begging me to give him another chance. He emailed me, texted me, called all my friends and family. He was showing up at places that I frequented. I became scared of him. My gynecologist told me that for the health of the baby, I needed peace from this harassment.

I was exhausted but I ended up filing for a harassment restraining order. It was granted. He filed for his own but was denied. Probably because I wasn’t harassing him. He then challenged my order- dragging me back into court 5 months pregnant. I was so stressed out, afraid and traumatized, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to carry the baby to term.

I considered abortion. Almost everyone I knew told me to have one. But I refused to let Guy make the decision for me. I couldn’t end the life inside of me. I kept her. But I was afraid for the future. I was afraid of how Guy would come back and try to control and abuse me again. I hoped he wouldn’t. But I had a sense that he would.

The baby came an entire month early. It was a difficult pregnancy. Less than one month after delivery- I was served a summons that Guy wanted to split custody of the premature baby 50/50. He had never cared for a baby before, let alone a premature one.

Thus began the battle for my daughter. I wasn’t willing to let him have her on his own at first. She was breastfeeding and very fragile. I went to lawyer after lawyer, bringing the baby with me in freezing cold conditions.

More to come…

How the Abuser Will Take Your Child

Firstly, they will isolate you but be discussing you (unbeknownst to you) with your family and friends. He will be telling them that you are psychologically unstable so that when you admit the abuse- people won’t believe you because they will think “well we were warned that she’s losing it”.

The image a “smart” or “covert” abuser will use is very pleasant, calm, friendly and approachable. He won’t show how he really is to anyone but family members or household members. Everyone will think that he’s a great guy because he saves his abuse for when there are no witnesses.

Even with evidence of abuse and harassment, courts will not care. I am not sure how bad the abuse has to be for courts to take it seriously but they certainly do not care about verbal, emotional, or low level physical abuse. They will pretend that the abuse was mutual.

The abuser can be very charming and never loses his cool in public. But when he is at home- he will do and say the most horrible things imaginable. The children fear him. The children are afraid to speak out. So the healthy parent speaks out. And is promptly discredited for any number of reasons but the healthy parent will be discredited.

Courts are not interested in the best interest of the child. Lawyers are not interested in the best interest of the child.

It’s a catch-22. You speak up about what’s happened- you’re a liar. You stay quiet- why didn’t you say something?

The abuser will wear away at your energy, he will send you messages upon messages upon messages accusing you of things you haven’t done. You don’t know whether to respond or not but the intention is to wear you down.

If your lawyer is not good, you will lose no matter what.

Did my best really

Shoshana your dad pushed me out. I couldn’t take it. not after what I knew: I just couldn’t: I knee nobody would help you: maybe if I don’t live it could help? I’ve Reid everything else. Your father- is hurting you; that it what you say. I wish I could help: nobody will listen to me,

I pray and hope God gives you the most strength ever:

Deserve better: not a world I ever felt welcomed in. Not ever. By anyone- always been on the outside scared to look in.

Finally the Truth: Covid-19 Vaccines are Ineffective and Harmful

Johnson and Johnson Covid vaccines finally pulled for causing too many blood clots- see links below. Some articles and authors are claiming that this is “rare” but if it is so rare- why has it been pulled off the market? Do not believe that blood clots are rare. It’s just not true.

Yale medicine: https://www.yalemedicine.org/news/coronavirus-vaccine-blood-clots

Johnson and Johnson vaccine finally pulled off the market in the US:

https://www.fiercepharma.com/pharma/its-end-line-jjs-covid-shot-us-cdc-says

And do not believe websites with blanket claims of safety over Yale Medicine or the Lancet. See this “fact check” attempt to downplay or outright lie about the supposed safety of the vaccines:

https://factcheck.afp.com/doc.afp.com.32EZ82K

So it’s not safe…is it effective? Research says no:

Effectiveness in preventing disease decreased by 50% after only a month following receipt of the Covid-19 vaccine:

https://abcnews.go.com/amp/Health/covid-vaccine-effectiveness-omicron-fell-20-after-6/story?id=99072898

Lancet reports that there is no difference in transmission between people who have had the vaccine and who have not:

https://www.thelancet.com/journals/laninf/article/PIIS1473-3099(21)00768-4/fulltext

Many studies claiming safety and/or effectiveness have been sponsored by the manufacturers themselves. This is obviously a conflict of interest. Note also that there are nearly no studies that include a control group of unvaccinated people to compare outcomes. So what are the claims of effectiveness based on?