Emily's Adventures in Wonderland

Deadline (They're stalling)

The deadline for Matt to respond to the demand letter was at 12 noon today. (1 hour, 3 minutes ago.)

I assumed he had not responded, but when I checked my email, I had a bcc'd message from my attorney at 11:28am

Please be advised that my client Matthew has asked that I respond to your letter of June 12, 2012. I will try to get a letter out to you this afternoon. This will not meet your 12:00 deadline, but my secretary is out at this time. My apologies.

They're stalling. (You've had 13 days to respond nimrod!) My atty said I would probably agree to a short extension on the offer. (As long as you're not just trying to stall to force us past the statute of limitations or to otherwise benefit yourself dipturd!) As soon as I saw his [real] last name in my inbox my heart start pounding and I just felt so panicky. I didn't know what to expect. I assumed it was my attorney saying they hadn't responded. But it wasn't. I don't know what to expect. I'm just scared. We'll see. I'm trying to breathe.

If we do settle, I'l have to sign a non-disclosure agreement and won't be able to discuss the terms. But let me say this, she asked for a lot of money. More money than how old I am.

And I am not really 25. I've just celebrated by 25th birthday the last 5 years for fun.

Pray for me. And pray for them. Pray that they do the right thing. Because the "right thing," here is for him to take responsibility for his actions. He has put me into debt paying for therapy. That is an absolute fact. The pain and suffering (overused phrase or not) he has caused is REAL. The damage he caused is REAL. And he needs to take responsibility and pay for what he has done. Pray that he recognizes what he has done is wrong and that he does the right thing by me. I loved him. He betrayed me in the worst way possible. He eliminated my ability to trust anything that I can even see, touch, feel or even KNOW as truth. I can KNOW it to be true, and still not even trust it. You can't put a price on it. He held my face in his hands and told me he would love me forever. That I was the only one we wanted to be with for the rest of his life. That I could trust him. That I could give his heart to him. That he wanted to make babies with me. That he was a police officer and that he was the law and he would never do anything to hurt me or to violate our bond. He told me he wanted to be my husband and that he wanted to make love to me. That he would try to restrain himself past our second week of dating before he proposed marriage. That our children would be beautiful. That I would be an amazing wife and mother. That I was the most perfect partner for him. That we fit perfectly together. That our bodies were made for each other and we were a perfect fit; a perfect match. That we were soul mates.

Pray he does the right thing. And that he repents for what he did to me. And to his daughter. And his wife.

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Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Thank you and MORE back story about Matt

Thank you so much everyone who has written me and asked for invites. I can't actually tell if anyone is reading any of my new posts on here because I don't think it's showing up on your feeds, so none of you are clicking on the direct links. So although I have responded to and sent out more than a dozen invitations, it looks like no one is here.

So if you're out there, please feel free to drop me a comment to let me know you got in here okay and found my posts and are getting updated. This is the third post since we went private.

Post #1 Why I went Private and My Big Secret from You

Post #2 Monday Really Sucked and the Content in Post #1 Scared me into Derangement

Post #3.... You're reading it right now. But here's a link for fun anyway.
I'm still updating at the old address when I update here so you can see in your feed when you need to switch over.

*********************************************************************************

The reason I made the big switch on the addresses and made everything private (did I actually say this before?) is because of the lawsuit.

When I was trying to figure things out back in August 2010, I knew something was going on with Matt but I didn't know what. I hit a certain point in my snooping and I couldn't go any further. I was SURE he was lying, I had already caught him lying about his parent's first and last names, and his brother's, wife and their children's names and where everyone lived. I had confirmed all of that. But I didn't know what his name was, or if there was more to it than that. I was stuck.

I emailed his cousin, who I found through searching who I thought were his parents (actually were his aunt & uncle) on Spokeo and a bunch of other websites and found his cousin, who is a wedding photographer. I recognized the logo pop up in the image search results and I tracked her down. After a lot of hesitation, I emailed her from an anonymous email address and asked for her help. She was very hesitant, but agreed to help me as long as I did not "out" her to her family. Up to that point, all I told her was that I was in a long term relationship with a guy and I thought he might be lying, but I wasn't sure. There was a possibility he might have lied about his marital status and parental status, but I had no idea. I said she should be able to know these things off the top of her head, and I reassured her that this person was NOT her husband or Dad or anything like that.

She hesitated, but said fine.

So I launched into it, and I told her, basically, the sum of my relationship with Matt in a paragraph, including his alma mater, where he grew up, and his full name and career history.

She emailed me back asking for a picture for us together and I burst into tears.

Then she asked to know how I found her.

Then she answered. She told me everything and it was SHE who outed him. She had no idea what he had been doing either, but she told me his real middle and last name, that he had lied about the college he went to (she went to U of O, not him), he had used her parents names, but he did tell the truth about their occupations. She also told me he was married, and her name, and that they had a child. It was she who told me that the tattoo on Matt's back was not of the officer friend who died in the line of duty, but of his daughter's name. And that he had gotten it on vacation in Hawaii with his in-laws... When he was calling, texting and emailing me, claiming to be on a guy's trip.

And during all of our email correspondence back and forth I made a BIG mistake.

I sent her the link to this blog.

At the time, this blog had a giant header of me and Matt; one picture when we first started dating, and another at our on year anniversary. The caption: "Loving since April 2009."

She was totally appalled, and then, as we went through my options, proposed she send the link to my blog to Sydney claiming she had "accidentally" discovered it. I told her no way, it's a private blog, I don't publish the address on search engines, etc., and there's no way you would have found it. My clients don't have access to it because it's private from them. I need that boundary. I gave the cousin my phone number instead and told her I was going to the house. She texted and tried to talk me out of it, but we went back and forth and I TOLD her:

1.) She wouldn't believe a phone call. I'd think it was a prank. The story is too ridiculous.
2.) If I wrote a letter, there's no telling he wouldn't get it first and shred it.
3.) Again, an email, it's not believable. It's not real.

The only real option was to go to the house and tell Sydney what he had done face to face. I told her because she deserved to know. Because she deserved to protect herself from her sociopathic husband, and I deserved to have been told and no one did. I told her, because someone should have told me.

I realized that the other day.

I did for her what should have been done for me. I did it, because *I* deserved it.

When I was in the house she thanked me over and over. "Thank you for being honest." "Thank you for coming to me. " "I am so glad someone could." She said this last one nastily giving Matt a dirty look, but still, it's true. We both deserved to be told. We both deserved for it never to have happened, but since it did, we had the right to know. To protect our hearts, minds, bodies, and for Sydney, her daughter. That she declined to was her choice. One I don't understand, but it was her choice.

Anyway, I know Matt's cousin had the address to my blog. And when I started getting a bunch of weird hits (30 a day?) in a town 10 miles from where he grew up, and where his family still lives about 6 months ago, I freaked out.

Now that we are 5.5 days away from the deadline we gave Matt in the demand letter, I don't what anyone in his family turning up on my blog. I don't want to go to court and have this stuff out there. For the record, if it did, I don't have anything to be afraid of or ashamed of. This is the truth of what happened and what he did. But that doesn't mean I'm going to print the thing out, laminate it, and Fed Ex it to his front porch.

I might do that with some dog poop, though. Can you laminate dog poop? Will it retain the same odor?

I've been watching a lot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Amazon Prime before bed, (because it makes me excited for kickboxing class) and in the later seasons there is what is called a "Vengeance Demon" who grants wishes to wronged women. The Vengeance Demon became a demon when her boyfriend cheated on her with a "bar maiden." So she turned him into a troll.

I want a Vengeance Demon for Christmas, please.

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The Super Awesome Fun Day

So Monday was AWESOME! AMAZING! I went rock climbing, water skiing, went to Disneyland, and rode rollercoaster riders until I threw up! Really!

Okay, not so much.

Saturday, Matt received the Demand Letter.

Maybe I will consider showing it to you, but I don't know about that. I'm not even comfortable looking at that thing myself let alone waving it around willy-nilly on the internet. (Even if everything is blacked out.)

Saturday night, some guy presses his face against my bedroom window while I stand naked and screaming staring back at him.

Sunday I had a photo shoot. I didn't take the dog out to pee until after 4pm because I was afraid to leave the house. When I finally got on the freeway for the shoot, I drive not, 3 miles and lights and sirens in my rearview. I am composed for exactly 10 seconds before I flip out.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY! LET ME OVER! LET ME OVER! LET ME OVER YOU MOTHER BLEEPING BLEEPING BLEEPING BLEEPER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

(Obviously the vehicle in the next lane wouldn't let me over so I couldn't get away from the stupid CHP and I had a little meltdown.)

Ahem.

Then I sobbed. And sobbed. And so on and so forth. For about... 60 seconds. While I changed from Interstate 80 to 5 South. Then guess what?

LIGHTS AND SIRENS AGAIN.

"LEAVE ME ALONE! WHY WHY YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! IT'S NEVER GOING TO END! OMG IT'S NEVER GOING TO END! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Second tiny little meltdown of the first 5 minutes of my drive.

It was great.

Then I went through all the things in my head that involve leaving my house and what am I going to do. Because clearly I am never leaving my house again. I am going back to being an agoraphobic and staying put. Yes. Genius.

I do the shoot, it's fine. I get foxtails and stickers all over my butt and legs and shoes and they hurt, so I break my diet for the first time in weeks and get an ice cream cone and a small fry and try to feel better.

I stay up until 5am making sure no one is coming back to my house to break in and begrudgingly allow the dog to poop 6 feet from the front door, an allowance he does not seem to appreciate, and he makes a second donation sometime after I fall asleep in the entry way. At least it was easy to clean up?

So, that's your back story. Now we are to Monday. The Day of Awesomeness. The Day of Fun. The Day I wanted to stab myself with teeny tiny little golf pencils for entertainment because THAT would have been MORE fun than what I did!

Like I said, I was up all night because I was afraid to sleep. Then I was too tired to go to kickboxing. (And too afraid to go anyway. Someone will probably either follow me from the house, OR break in while I'm gone and chop my cats into tiny little pieces.)

11:30am it's time to go to therapy. I hate this woman. She sucks.

I stall. I don't want to go. I am afraid to leave the house, and I am anxious. I don't want to listen to her cheerlead me about how I sent the Demand Letter. I need to talk about how deranged I am and how scared I am, but she sucks at that.

I finally leave at 11:50 or something and arrive about ten minutes late at 12:10pm and I did text her to let her know I was late. I dash out of the car and start to walk in when I see... to my horror....

There's a freaking MAN in the waiting room. What the heck? It's 10 after! All of the appointments should be in already!

As you know, I am afraid of men, I don't want to be touched, I don't want to be talked to, and I do NOT want you anywhere close to me. And this waiting room is tiny. Per usual, I stand outside. A minute passes, then 5. He's still there. I start to cry. I'm paying $35 an hour for therapy with this woman and I can't even go in because I'm being held hostage in the parking lot! This probably happens at least once out of our two sessions each week but usually whatever guy is in there is gone by 5 after. I've now been waiting 15 minutes in the hot parking lot, meaning we are 25 minutes PAST my appointment time. My hysteria over being late, wasting money, the big white trucks that are the same make and model as Matt's that have now passed by twice are getting to me, plus the proximity to this man- I am overwhelmed. I start crying. I am crying, and pacing and panting about one door down from the office and totally lost as to what to do.

I have turned my back on the door and I am standing there, trying to take deep breaths and calm down. Think rationally. Call the therapist? Text her? Ask for help? What do I do? Can I go in the waiting room? Can I ask her to ask him to leave? Breathe.

Then I feel someone TAP ME ON THE FREAKING SHOULDER.

"Oh, hi! (HUGE SMILE) Did you get here for your appointment early too? I like to be early, How are----"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Seriously. I ran away screaming. The man from the waiting room came out to where I was trying to fight off a panic attack ONE BUILDING DOWN, SNUCK UP BEHIND ME (what is he? the quiet walker on Seinfeld?) TOUCHED ME, and then talks to me like he's FLIRTING with me?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I ran like a bat out of hell!

I screamed and ran and hid behind the building across the way and had a full out panic attack and

HAVE NEVER FELT MORE INSANE IN ALL MY LIFE.

Thank you very much.

Then I slid down the 1970's textured wall that had little rocks and pebbles set into it, scratching my back all up so it bled and sat on the sidewalk and cried like a homeless mental patient.

I am so awesome.

Don't you just want to set me up with your brother, friend, or cute neighbor? I am so cool and hip!

After I spent an additional 10-12 minutes crying/hyperventilating/coming off the panic attack, I sent a hysterical message to my therapist stating what happened and saying that IF I could get back to my car, I was leaving and going home.

I then peeped around the corner, saw no guy, made a run for it, unlocked the car while I ran, jumped in the car, and pealed out so bad that the tires SQUEALED. You know, like in the movies?

I think I drove over the curb trying to flee the Parking Lot of Horrors as well.

Stupid Incompetent Therapist (SIT) texted me to let her know when I got home. I sent her a MORE hysterical message saying I was NEVER going back to that place again and to cancel my appointment for tomorrow and that I was NO WAY IN HE** going back there because it was not safe, and what person in their right mind randomly approaches some woman outside of a psychiatric office in a parking lot? In 100 degree heat? Does this look like the time for The Bachelorette?

After that whacked out message, Miss SIT called me three times, which I did not answer. (Truthfully I could not hear the phone because 1.) It was on vibrate and 2.) I was heaving and sobbing too loudly and 3.) My car is kind of noisy.

When I got home I took a Xanax and a half and laid down and tried to go through my relaxation exercises that Jamie (previous therapist) taught me. I'm not very good at them, but I tried.

Then I got pissed off.

This thing with the guy in the waiting room (no idea if it's the same guy) happens EVERY week. I will arrive, and a man will be sitting in the waiting room. And I won't go in until he leaves. So I stand in the parking lot and wait until he gets called in for his appointment, and then I go in. So I am at least 5 to 10 minutes late EVERY SINGLE TIME even if I arrive on time. Or early. Because I won't go in if there is a man in there.

It has happened every week since I started seeing Miss SIT in April. It never happened with Jamie. It happened so often with SIT that she TOLD me she would be sitting in the office watching and waiting for whatever guy was out there (in the waiting room) to leave because she knew as soon as he did, I would magically appear.

Clearly, she was aware of the issue. I also had a panic attack leaving the office one day because a man was standing in the hallway on the way to the exit and I couldn't get past him without touching him. I started to cry and pant and she didn't do anything. The man saw what was happening and stepped into the administrative offices (he was a patient, looked like maybe for marriage counseling because a lady was there too) to get out of my way and I RAN past him, and then couldn't get out because another therapist was blocking the door!

SIT never addressed the incident at the time, or in our next meeting. We also never discussed or came up with a plan as to how to get me in the office when this happened or for how I could cope with these situations. Why was there not a contingency plan in place? Since she does the text thing, why couldn't I text her I was there and she come OUTSIDE and walk me in, so I could practice walking past the man? Or, teach me coping skills to learn to tolerate being in the waiting room? Why didn't we go out in the waiting room and practice being out there, since it's so uncomfortable?

With Jamie, I had big issues leaving the house, and I'd have panic attacks every time I did. The grocery store was a big problem and I wouldn't walk down an aisle if there was a man there. We went through these visualizations (that I hated) where I would picture the man, and then have to picture things to protect myself (she'd suggest a shield or sword or magic bubble, and I'd say, how about a snow jacket, and four pairs of pants and a shopping cart? I needed things to be real, albeit, impractical) We mentally boxed in scary men in stores with shelving units and locked them away behind security glass from the pharmacy department. We worked on breathing and distraction techniques and "You are safe." and all kinds of things.

Where was SIT in all of that? HUGE ISSUE, in the LOBBY of the THERAPY OFFICE, preventing me from GETTING IN TO MY APPOINTMENT? And we aren't TALKING ABOUT THAT?

Are you KIDDING ME?

I am pissed. I think this was inevitable. Of course this would happen! It was bound to! Not the exact scenario, but that something would happen and that I would freak out. And now what good did it do me? I'm NOT going back there, and I have no way to cope or deal with the situation should it come up again. Nice going, Stupid.

After the break at home and the Xanax I had my first physical therapy appointment for my knee, which I injured four+ years ago running, and basically have early osteoarthritis symptoms coupled with some runner's knee issues. I was late, went to the wrong building and got all wound up again, but I made it and I really like my PT and I let her touch me and do the session and it was OK. It helped that it was my lower body and not my chest or anything. That felt safer I guess.

Then I felt like I still needed to binge on something (I've been so good for so long, but yesterday was just... ARGH!) so I tried to get Cheetos at the Rite Aid across from the PT. NO CHEETOS IN THE ENTIRE STORE!!!! I couldn't believe it!

So I got Charlie a special squeaky toy he likes to play with at the park and had never been able to find anywhere to buy one of his own, and extra strength deodorant, because while at PT, I noticed I smelled rank. Perhaps from all the running and crying and squatting in alleys like a homeless person.

I stand in line for almost 10 minutes, it's my turn, I start to walk up, and a man darts in from the side and cuts in front of me and like 3 other people.

So I throw all my stuff on the floor (ok, in a basket) and stomp out.

ARGH!

And then I really fell off the sobriety wagon and bought hummus at Target on the way home. I just couldn't handle it anymore.

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Sunday, June 17, 2012

Why I went private and what I've been keeping from you.

Well.

I found an attorney back in March.

And she offered to help me.

And we're suing Matt.

Long pause.

The first step to that process is sending a demand letter to his home, asking him for the money first.

He had a certain number of days to respond, and if he doesn't respond, the attorney will file a lawsuit on my behalf and we go to court.

We are suing him for False Imprisonment, Battery, Violation of Civil Rights under Color of Authority, Fraud, Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress and Third Party Victim of Identity Theft.

I've had nightmares all week, and my anxiety is through the roof. I am terrified of what they will do to me when they found out what I have done. This is the right thing. If he plowed me down with a bus, no one would question me. In fact, he would have paid it long ago. The injury is no different. Because I carry my scars on the inside does not make them less important, or traumatic and the need to ensure he does not victimize another woman is just as important as any other crime. But no one is taking care of this. So I am. And Victim Witness is not paying for my thousands of dollars of therapy. So he's going to. Because it's the right thing. These are the choices HE made in HIS life. He chose them. You rob a bank, you go to jail. You live a double life, hold someone against their will (and a whole bunch of other stuff), and financially benefit from your fraud, you're going to have to pay them back. That's the law. Why his wife is with him, I have no idea. But I realized long ago that when she chose to stay with him she chose to suffer his consequences with him and that was her choice.

I didn't choose to have this happen to me. But I can choose to make it stop. And I can choose to hold him accountable.

Matt received the demand letter from the attorney yesterday at 2:22pm according to delivery confirmation. I don't know if that means he signed for it or if it was just left in his mailbox.

Between 12:30am and 1:00am or so, I was in the bathtub, trying to relax. Charlie started crying and running all over the house. Whimpering. From the front sliding class doors, digging and clawing at the glass, to running to the back of the house and crying and clawing at it back there.

I got out of the tub soaking wet and walked into my room where Charlie Brown was standing in my bed crying.

A face was pressed against the bottom corner of my bedroom window and I SCREAMED as hard and loud as I ever had. It disappeared from the glass and ran around the corner. I fell to the bottom of my bed shaking and crying and rocking myself into hysteria.

Then I couldn't decide if it really had just happened, because it's crazy, and he would have to be STUPID to come to my house, and if it wasn't him, how could so many insane things happen at my house in just a year? Then I sat there and thought I must be going insane, which seemed much more probable. Except I know what I saw. I was so afraid to leave the house I didn't take the dog outside to go potty the next day (today) until after 4:00pm.

He has to go again and I don't know what to do. It's dark out. I am afraid. I have a therapy appointment and a doctor's appointment and I don't know what to do. The agoraphobia feelings are just raging. I was thinking earlier maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I can't do this. Maybe I'm not up to it. But it's too late now.

And I would always regret it if I didn't do it.

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