by Band Back Together | Oct 19, 2015 | Cyberharassment, Cyberstalking, Infidelity, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Harassment |
Where do I start, The Band?
I’m a middle-aged woman working in a man’s world – always thought I could laugh at their jokes and play along.. One man in particular assumed my lack of offense was a “come on.”
It was not.
Let’s start at the beginning.
I rejoined my company, and at first, I shadowed my colleagues to refresh my knowledge. M was one of these colleagues.
We got along well and I enjoyed attending events with him. At the end of October, M and I attended an event together. It was an early morning start so he stayed overnight in a hotel.
I invited him to dinner with my husband, my son, and I. It was a friendly gesture. We enjoyed a few glasses of with dinner and afterward, my husband and I walked M back to his hotel.
When we returned home, there was a text message. My husband said, “Oh you have a text from M!” I assumed he was thanking us for dinner so I asked my husband what it said. He read the text to me:
“Fancy a f*ck?”
The following day, I told M my husband had read his text to me. He was mortified but I assured him we’d laughed it off, blamed it on the wine. M’s response was “Well. Do you?” I told him no and explained that I was very happily married.
This didn’t stop M from flirting.
I’m not completely innocent, I’m also guilty of flirting. I had a wicked sense of humour and an outgoing bubbly personality. This could be misconstrued, however I made it entirely clear to M that I was not interested.
I explained that I’d been with my husband since we were teenagers and that I’d never cheated on him. M stated that he didn’t want me to leave my husband, he just wanted to have sex with me.
I explained I don’t do casual sex and never wanted to be anyone’s “bit on the side.” He stated that he loved his wife but he enjoyed sex with other women.
Again, I told him I didn’t share his methods and wasn’t interested.
I should have distanced myself from M. I now deeply regret not doing that.
Perhaps I’d been naive, but I believed we could talk openly and be friends without a physical relationship. We got along well and had a great rapport. I thought I could handle this.
His flirting became more sexually explicit which I took as banter. He began texting me after events telling me how sexy I looked. I enjoyed the attention and the compliments and did not discourage him.
I was always clear that I would not cheat on my husband.
His text messages became more sexually explicit as he sent me messages about what he’d like to do to me, what he’d like me to wear, and what positions he’d have me in.
I told him it was not going to happen and he had no respect for me. I asked him how he’d feel if someone was sending messages like that to his wife. He apologized.
A short time later, started it again.
Around about this time, someone told me that M had had an affair with another coworker, E. I asked M about it. He said that she’d chased him, and what had happened between them.
E and I were friends on Facebok and we had a late night chat. She was tormenting me about my friendship with M and I explained that it was only friendship. I told her, he’d sent very inappropriate texts. She confessed that he had been sending her these too. We discovered the content of these messages were nearly identical.
She told me that he’d been doing this for 14 years. He’d pressed himself against her in the office and suggested he pop by her house when she was alone. He had stroked my legs under the table at events and told me he had a fetish for nylon on skin.
It became clear that M was a sexual predator and he’d been grooming me. I confronted him and he denied it, saying E had “lead him on.” I knew that one day he’d try blaming me too, so I saved E’s conversation. M is very charming and convincing. He started to behave better around me – and again, I thought we could be friends. I’d hoped we’d moved on.
What followed was a really bad period in my personal life. My father had terminal cancer. I held one of my daughters as she gave birth to a dead baby. Someone lodged a complaint at work claiming I’d been acting fraudulently.
Although management dismissed it as nonsense, I felt my reputation had been tarnished. I struggled feeling I was being judged. I knew I’d done nothing wrong and invited a full investigation. The matter was closed.
My father died and family issues meant that I couldn’t attend his funeral. I thought I could handle it but the pressure; I was being judged for not attending my father’s funeral.
M had remained a friend and I spoke with him about some of these issues. He told me his marriage was going through a bad patch and that he no longer loved his wife. Around this time, he started to tell me that he had fallen in love with me. I was emotionally fragile and wasn’t sure how to handle it.
He blew hot and cold – one minute he was telling me he loved me while the next, he ignored me while he sorted things out with his wife. I still refused to sleep with him as I maintained that I loved my husband and would not cheat.
I had developed feelings for him but there was no sexual attraction. I didn’t trust him. I knew he was a womanizer who had no respect for women.
On a few occasions when we were on the phone, it became clear that he was masturbating. I’d put the phone down when that happened. He was always sorry afterwards (especially when his wife caught him).
I went to meet him at his hotel one morning for an event. We were going to travel together, and I was early so he invited me to have a coffee. I felt I could handle the situation. As I was drinking my coffee, he went to the toilet and came out exposing himself.
I was mortified.
Immediately, I stood up to leave.
He asked me to touch it.
I told him he was out of order, he buttoned up, and we left. He said he was sorry; it wouldn’t happen again. I feel incredibly stupid now reading this, but I really believed we could be friends. He sent me a photo of his penis to our private email accounts, I didn’t report it at work.
At the beginning of April, his wife contacted the hotel where we’d both stayed on a business trip. She suspected that I’d spent the night with her husband. Of course I hadn’t – I spent it with a number of colleagues – including her husband – at dinner together.
Afterward, he came to my room with a bottle of wine – I felt safe. He sexually coerced me and had sex with me.
I froze.
I did not stop him. I did not say no. He left immediately afterwards.
I felt dirty and confused. He had worn me down. I didn’t want to have sex with him but I hadn’t stopped him. I sat in the bath and sobbed. Then I showered. Then bathed again.
I just couldn’t feel clean.
The sex was unplanned and unprotected. I felt contaminated. I felt raped but I thought I couldn’t have been as I didn’t say no.
I felt nothing as he was doing it. It was like someone flipped a switch and turned me off. I remember feeling like I was standing at the bottom of the bed watching it happen to someone else. Like watching the TV with the sound off.
I was mortified that I’d cheated on my husband. I was so ashamed. I decided no one would ever know. I pretended nothing had happened. I thought I could go back to normal and forget it.
A few days later, I complained about M’s wife phoning the hotel. I felt I was being stalked and management queried why she was suspicious.
At this time, his line manager queried M’s mobile phone usage. He was my friend so I lied and said he’d never been inappropriate. I didn’t want anyone to know what’d happened and I didn’t want him lose his job.
I felt partially to blame for not stopping contact with him.
As soon as I’d given M a clean slate, he changed completely. He was doing his best to convince his wife that he’d done nothing wrong; he blamed me for leading him on and stalking him.
Around this time she started checking my – and my husband’s – Facebook page. M told me she was obsessed; that was going to contact my husband to tell him I’d had an affair with M.
She wouldn’t let it drop. I emailed her and asked her to stop cyberstalking me – I explained I wasn’t interested in her husband and if she wanted to talk to me, just call or email.
M enjoyed all the attention and wound me up about it. I reacted badly and struck out at him for his behavior. He’d told me he was my best friend; that he loved me.
Now, he treated me like a bunny boiler.
At home, my evening relaxing glass of wine became a bottle. It helped me forget. I became angry and argumentative. My husband desperately wanted to know what was wrong. I told him nothing yet became increasingly distant.
I drank to get to sleep but woke up three hours later when the wine wore off. I’d spent the rest of the night watching the clock.
For eight long weeks.
I argued with M, and told him I was disgusted at what he had done to me. He laughed at me and put his hand between my legs. I punched him in the face.
He was not going to touch me again.
Two months after the sex, I suffered a serious house fire. I broke down. I had nothing left to fight with. I told my husband what had happened. He was devastated, angry. I couldn’t cope and went to the doctor.
M’s line manager asked him not to contact me. I was off with stress and they knew he’d been sexually harassing me at work. We’d been chatting one day, and the next?
Nothing.
I asked him what the problem was. He ignored me. I was so, so stressed and couldn’t understand it! He’d groomed me for so long that I depended on his friendship. I was frustrated, humiliated, used, and lied to.
I emailed M and told him this. I’d lied to protect him and had (stupidly) thought we were still friends. He took my correspondence and using it to make me look like a stalker. He took a picture of his black eye and when he was told not to contact me, he reported me to management for assault and said I’d been harassing his wife and family.
To defend myself, I raised a grievance for sexual harassment. The case was heard and they believed him – we’d been having an affair for two years. He said I’d been blackmailing him to keep seeing me. I’d harassed him and his family after he ended the affair.
I was distraught.
After the house fire, I contacted rape crisis for counselling. I found the strength to ask my doctor for STI testing. Thankfully it was clear. I called the police and reported M for the sexually explicit images he’d been emailing me. As I was so distraught, they questioned me for ten hours solid and wrote a 35 page statement for a rape inquiry.
They took six weeks to get around to questioning M.
He told them we’d been having an affair and produced my emails. They charged him with nothing and spoke to me like I’d been wasting police time.
Work completed their investigation and found M was in the clear, but I’d face disciplinary action for assaulting and harassing a member of staff. They concluded that I was trying to ruin his reputation.
Talk about a no win situation.
I had a severe meltdown and called the Samaritans – I was suicidal.
Since, I’ve had a few relapses and have taken sleeping tablets together with wine. My husband is scared to leave me alone.
My rape counselor says I am suffering from PTSD. I have lost 8 kilos and now weigh less than 55 kilos. My guts are constantly on fire. I cry at the drop of a hat. I haven’t worn a skirt for 6 months as I feel vulnerable.
I have forgotten what normal feels like and have aged about 20 years.
My husband is supportive, but he’s also a wreck. M stole our exclusiveness. I appealed the work decision a month ago and have a union rep supporting me. My employer has not yet given me a date for my appeal. M is back at work like he’s done nothing wrong. What M did to me was horrendous and I’m being punished for it.
I have lost my faith in Justice.
I begged him to leave me alone and now I’m paying the price.
by Band Back Together | Oct 16, 2015 | Baby Loss, Coping With Baby Loss, Loss, Pregnancy After A Loss (Rainbow Baby), Stillbirth |
I was 35 weeks pregnant when I found out our daughter no longer had a heartbeat. I gave birth to her sleeping 5 days later.
All my husband and I wanted was to be parents. It took a few years to conceive Leia, but once we did it was bliss. There was a lot of heartburn, and morning sickness but I didn’t care. I loved being pregnant. Loved feeling her move inside of me, and kicking.
We threw ourselves into preparing for her arrival, and had her room all ready. My nice pink new suitcase all packed, the new diaper bag all ready to go, the car seat safely installed in the car.
What we couldn’t do was prepare ourselves for her not coming home. For her dying.
Losing Leia was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I had been writing letters to her for 6 months in utero. I had no idea how I could stop writing to my baby girl, so I never did.
It’s been almost 7 months since we said hello and goodbye to our daughter. I am currently expecting our rainbow baby but we will never get over losing Leia.
by Band Back Together | Oct 15, 2015 | Abuse, Adult Bullying, Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Bullying, Divorce, Emotional Abuse, Parent Loss |
A narcissistic parent can ruin a child’s life for years and years.
This is his story:
Where do I begin?
My mother didn’t just run the first 26 years of my life – she ruined them.
When I was five, I had a dog who mysteriously disappeared. The dog chased a would-be vandal over a fence. While the dog never touched the kid, the kid fell and hurt his shoulder. His parents threatened to sue. While my brothers and I were at school, while Dad was at work, Mom “settled out of court.”
She had a perfectly healthy dog, MY DOG, euthanized.
I was told he ran away while my brothers were told he was given to a chicken farmer. Dad was told the truth. I was told something different because I’d have asked to go to the chicken farm to see my dog.
Twenty years later, I was told the chicken farm story, twenty-five years later, I was FINALLY told the truth. Dad confessed because he was tired of lying for Mom.
What Dad didn’t know is that I paced the streets looking for my dog. I sat on my porch, just waiting for him to come home. I was just like that movie Hachi: A Dog’s Tale. A letter carrier came upon me on the porch, crying and was at a loss for words.
Life went on for Mom. She chatted on the phone, watched her soaps, did laundry, and ignored my pleas for my dog to “come home.” That dog was my friend.
The Golden Child, The Golden Boy, my abusive, bullying older brother would not allow anyone to be more successful at anything he’d failed at first. The Golden Boy was allowed to try out for Little League, but he didn’t like it. Therefore I was never allowed to try out for Little League. She wouldn’t let me try out for anything – even when Dad pushed for me to join the swim team.
As a teen, I was very shy, awkward around girls. There were a couple reasons: Mom insisted I buy her ugly car, Mom insisted I remain in Boy Scouts – and so it was. Lastly, The Golden Boy would go through my yearbook, find the girls I had crushes on, and ask them out first.
When I was fifteen, I took a date to my homecoming dance. She was my mother’s boss’s daughter who really wanted to go to that dance… just not with me. Her only way in was with a date. I got her in, she flirted with every guy there, and tells me, “Maybe I’ll look you up in a year or two.”
It was completely embarrassing.
Mom thought it was hysterical.
Four years later, I’m home for the summer from college. The Golden Boy commits road rage, and I save his sorry butt from a guy twice our combined sizes. How does he thank me? He starts dating the girl I’d brought to homecoming and bragging about it.
Mom finds it outrageously hilarious funny.
Once again, I was terribly hurt.
Mom informed The Golden Boy that my brother’s girlfriend wasn’t allowed in the house. She also tells me that people can change for the better. She told me about my uncle, her brother, who’d come home from the Navy only learn that his fiancee had married someone else. My uncle was devastated, married his first wife, had two kids, and ended up divorced. As his first fiancee did.
Mom told me they reconnected after he bailed her out of jail for prostitution. For 29 years, I believed this story. And I had failed romance after failed romance.
In college, The Golden One wanted me as a his roommate. Mom thought this was a great idea until I reminded her that I wouldn’t live under the same roof with him. Then he decided we needed to be in the same classes. I sat away from him, listening to comments about his abrasiveness from other students.
The only rebellious thing I ever did was to date my first wife. I knew the relationship wouldn’t work, but my self-esteem was shot, and I chose someone who was not his type – even though it meant I had to sacrifice my own happiness. My first wife and I were married and divorced in less than eight months.
At 26, I met my wife. When she and I got engaged, The Golden Boy had barely known his then-girlfriend, but decided that not only would he marry this woman, but that he should beat me to the alter. When it came to introduce our families, my fiancee and I settled on one weekend and made our plans. The Golden Boy then usurps my weekend so that his future in-laws are met first.
I told my wife we’d be on the back-burner. And we were.
Every time my wife and I would visit, the Golden Boy was there. See, he was was usually unemployed and wanted to use us to get a job. My mother played along until I put my foot down.
I have made up for my lost childhood. I will always have the kind of dog I want. I coached Little League and later high school baseball. When the high school team I coached won a game on a play I called, I remembered looking at my high school ring and saying, “Now I can wear this with pride.”
I went back to college, got my masters degree. I’ve had the same wonderful job for as many years as The Golden Boy has been fired from. It’s likely he’s been fired by more.
My mother died a few years ago, just after my daughter graduated. Dad was proudly telling me all about what my daughter accomplished when I interjected. I pointed out that I was denied those opportunities. I mentioned why and told Dad all about my uncle and aunt’s relationship.
Dad cut me off, “that isn’t true. Your mother made that up.” For 29 years I bought that story. I told my wife, “If she lied to me about this, what else did she lie about?”
My wife said it best, “You’re probably going to find out there were more lies.” I have – most were done to cater to The Golden Boy.
When I was visiting for Father’s Day, The Golden Boy tried to start something. I was on my parents phone – no one had cell phones back then – and he wanted to use the phone too. I told him I’d be off in five minutes, but he got nasty – he said he’d use the phone whenever he wanted to. My mother was on his side. I hit the roof. Mom started crying, and talking about taking everyone on a cruise for their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
They renewed their vows the day after their actual anniversary – my anniversary – to cater to The Golden Child. At dinner, my wife and I presented my parents with a special gift, a three-night stay at a bed and breakfast. Afterward, Mom called me to tell me that they’d had a blast. Years later, I find out that she’d given away the reservation to a family friend. No one, of course, is allowed to be better than The Golden Boy. And since he was broke and didn’t buy them a gift? She wanted nothing from me.
Later, I asked Dad about it – Dad knew nothing of it, which makes sense: Dad knew what Mom wanted him to know.
When Mom died, a spiteful Golden Boy showed his true colors. He and Dad never got along. He tried to have Dad institutionalized. It didn’t work. The Golden Boy was removed from the hospital by security.
The Golden Boy fought with Dad after Dad informed the hospital staff to not release his protected health information to my brother. What does this Golden Child do for revenge?
He makes a false report to DCF, claiming Dad is broke, beat his wife, has dementia, and is living off cat food.
DCF investigated while Dad was home grieving. A follow-up investigation took place the day Mom died. I was less-than-friendly to DCF. I told them if they had any questions about Dad’d mental capacity, to bring them to me. She couldn’t tell me who’d ordered the investigation, to which I replied, “I can take three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”
I made Dad change the locks on the house, and I became his power of attorney. I made sure Dad didn’t disinherit The Golden Child because there are grandchildren involved. He’s not getting a key to the house, though.
Now The Golden Boy has a job, which I always fill the words “for now,” since he always gets fired. Dad is trying to tell me how much better his personality is since getting this job. A person’s employment status does not change someone’s personality. Becoming a parent, yes.
Speaking of children, my mother GAVE BACK many pictures I gave her and Dad of my daughter under the guise of “There isn’t enough room.” There are ROOMS OF PICTURES of just his child, one of SEVEN GRANDCHILDREN! Dad won’t do anything there because he wants to keep the house as Mom left it.
The golden boy learned how to lie from my mother. He told a lie about my uncle that caused me to never be allowed to see that uncle the last 8 years of his life. This was another of Mom’s brothers, and he used to take us to a rifle range. The golden boy convinced Mom I was irresponsible and couldn’t be trusted at a range. Mom never let me see that uncle the last 8 years of his life before he was tragically killed.
This uncle left a rifle to the golden boy and my parents. When I asked why it was such a big deal with taking me to a range, my mother said, “Why do you take stock in what your brother says?” I responded, “I didn’t. You did.” Mom then said they were afraid I was holding a grudge against someone and was planning something rash.
I have poured a lot out here regarding the lies I was told. Now the golden boy is trying to charm his way back into Dad’s good graces. I’ve told Dad this has nothing to do with past grudges, or should I say all of his bullying. It has to do with the fact the golden boy broke any and all trust with me when my mother died. There is nothing he can do to ever earn my trust because he will never have my trust again.
The sad part is my father forgets his own sister was the golden child with my grandmother, and she and her husband stole from my grandmother, which set Dad off. I told Dad, “I trust my brother the same way you trusted your sister.” That woke Dad up. I even asked Dad what he plans to do when this golden boy asks for a key to his house. Dad has assured me that won’t happen, but to be on the safe side if I have to deal with my father’s estate, the first thing I will do is get the locks on that house changed again.
I feel better for sharing this, and I welcome your responses.
Sincerely,
Cleansed
by Band Back Together | Oct 14, 2015 | Asperger's Syndrome, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Childhood Bullying, Divorce, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Suicide |
I did it again.
While I didn’t yell at my wife, or make any physical advances, No, what I did was worse.
I made her cry and hide in a corner. My own wife.
And it keeps happening; it’s becoming more frequent.
I grew up in an abusive household in the United Kingdom. My mother, sister, and I lived under my father’s proverbial gun. My mother and sister were sexually assaulted by him.
His control ruled my life and dictated that anything I ever did wasn’t good enough. When I’d get straight A’s, I was told they should have been A+’s. Eventually, I rebelled a little which was for my own good.
We’d gone out for a walk in the forest and I needed a rest, so I hung back and sat down to catch my breath. He came thundering down, and with no no one else around, he knocked me down, and started to kick the living daylights out of me. I lost all control. I began to bleed from my head. Then, he picked me up and dragged me in front of a crowd of people.
Not a single person tried to stop him, not a single word of dissent.
From that point on, I decided I should be alone. Beside my mother, no one cared about me, and eventually she began to abuse me as well. It was a vicious cycle that eventually broke down when he divorced her and moved away with his mistress.
But after the incident in the forest, I just wanted to be alone, not exist at all. It was compounded by the fact that I was bullied every day at school at school as well. When I went to counselors or my mother, I was usually told, “you’re just being stupid,” and was written off.
Eventually I went to University, during which time I almost managed suicide with an overdose of painkillers. The next morning, I went to the doctor and was sent straight to the ER. It was no comfort when I was told that the amount I’d taken was enough to kill a “normal” person. Around this time, I’d disowned my father and there were threats that he and some of his brothers planned to descend upon the University to “correct” me.
I saw killing myself as the only option.
My now-wife has stood by me no matter what. We met playing games on the Internet, and eventually I moved to the USA to marry her. We’ve been married over a year, I’m doing the job I always wanted, and we’re expecting our first child.
She suffers from Asperger’s Syndrome and sometimes, as is the case with autism spectrum disorders, doesn’t know how to act or respond appropriately. It feels like I have to organize our daily lives because she can’t or won’t.
I love her to pieces and wouldn’t give her up for the world. Recently, however, I’ve started to make snide comments to her or vent at her about stuff over which she has no control.
For example, we’d just had our apartment building set on fire by some careless fuckwits, and while the apartment wasn’t damaged, it did smell like smoke. The Red Cross had us stay in a hotel, and when we returned home, we both set about organizing our apartment.
When I ask her what else we needed to do, she says that we need to grab CDs from the car so she can rip them onto her laptop. I’m thinking,
“What the fuck? We need to inspect the apartment in case we need to make any claims, and you want me to go downstairs and grab CDs? Seriously?”
Then I say it aloud. I berate her. I berate her because I now have to be her eyes and ears. That I have to organize her day for her. How much it all stresses me out.
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
The one thing I swore I’d never do – abuse my own wife or kids like I was abused – I’m doing.
And now, I feel like scum for breaking such an important promise to myself and undermining, hurting her.
There’s a big part of me that feels I should leave quietly and not return so I don’t hurt her anymore. Maybe go somewhere, be alone, and die in a corner quietly. Because that’s what I deserve. And she deserves so much better than me, a broken person who doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.
I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know whether I should fight it, give up trying to change my fate, or remove myself from the equation permanently.
by Band Back Together | Oct 13, 2015 | Alcohol Addiction, Bulimia Nervosa, Depression, Divorce |
I suppose this is going to take me a while to write. I want to talk about my mom. I want to talk about myself. I need to share.
I grew up in a home that at first pass might pass the sniff test. Now, as an adult, returning to visit, I realize something stinks.
I was never comforted by my mother. I have no memories of thinking, even as a child, “I need help/I hurt/I am sad… I should find my mom.” What six year old writes a letter to her mom saying, “I am sorry to have burdened you, I know you don’t love me and I will leave” and then just walks down the road as far as she can until, she is so afraid of being more trouble for having left, she runs home, pees her pants along the way. Retrieves the letter from her mom’s vanity. It’s been only three or four hours. No one knew she was missing. She tells her mom she is sorry and hopes she knows she is hollow with guilt for being a burden. “I know I am always guilty mom, even if I don’t know what I did. I am always guilty.”
My mother is mentally ill. Depending on the year and the shrink, she has depression, a bipolar disorder, multiple personalities, anxiety issues… you name it, someone has treated her for it. She is also bulimic and an alcoholic. No one ever acknowledged these issues to me or my brother until my parents were getting a divorce when I was 17. My father had always been the lightning rod, attempting to divert or distract or come between my mom and us kids. I never knew anything different.
She had all these rules for us. Do you remember when Jacob Wetterling went missing? I do. That was one of those events that triggered something in her. The paranoia took hold. We had code words for emergencies… code words for normal life. If someone wanted to come in the front door of our house, they had to say “breakfast sausage” even if it was a member of our family. We weren’t allowed to have play dates with other kids. My mom’s logic was that we should be friends, and so we shouldn’t need anyone else. She wasn’t going to cater to the social needs of a child, she had better things to do.