Soon after, Siena, pulled my buck-knife on her mother, there was a huge disagreement between her mother and I about what was, and wasn't, going on in our household.
No longer could I feel safe enough to sleep in the same house.
After confronting Jennifer about how the parenting was being done, and the lack of discipline, I became a bit irate.
Wine, at the price of $12 for 3 1.5 liter bottles, helped me to voice how I felt about it. Unfortunately being afraid to speak up about much of anything when there is confrontation involved, is a direct result of the abuse I had endured as a child- a very common issue among people, and part of what is wrong in society today. I call it cellboss syndrome. It's usually handed down by men, and it's the cause of grief for women as well.
Well, Jen did not approve of anything I offered, no matter what. With plenty of wine to drink, I stayed holed-up in my office- the only space in the house I could call mine, where I sat at my computer while stewing about the fact that we were not working together at anything as a family unit. I gathered up some things and loaded my CB900 for an escape from this prison, riding to Larry's place in Mesick the next day.
Once at Larry's place, I was given permission to use his cabin, where I hid until I could come up with a good plan. The idea was to reassert myself and then try to correct the terribly wrong turn that life had taken.
One huge unanswered question was, when- exactly, that had happened.
I have a feeling that my mistake was, not seeing that I had found my way into a toxic relationship, but my level of self esteem, as well as my need to prove that I am valuable, to be accepted, it kept me blinded.
My mother never accepted me.
I had spent my whole life trying to get her love and approval. After my grandmother died, I called my mother to tell her that I was done and that, due to her and her siblings treatment of me, when Lillian died, I would most likely never speak to her again.
And I have not since August of 2015.
Several days to weeks went by while I thought and worried. My anxiety grew to the point where I was crippled and could not leave. The fear of getting popped on my bike froze me in my tracks.
There was no way that I was losing my bike over my "wife's" inability to be part of a family or even a half-assed parent. My grief over my family slipping through my fingers made it hard not to drink. It all destroyed my appetite completely.
Down to 128 pounds, I was dying and they did not care. The internet and "gaming" was in charge. Spending money under the rule of no rule and "Save up for what?" was destroying everything I had worked so hard for. Jenny did nothing to prepare to move
Jenny did nothing to administer guidance to Siena. The only rules and discipline were for, and against, myself. My communication was limited to my own family. I was not allowed to speak to anyone she called her friend- not allowed to speak to her family.
The only person I didn't get flexed on for speaking to was her cousin Dennis. How can you tell another adult who they can and can't speak to?
After listening to Jenny crying and agonizing over her relationship with her mother, I called and explained the importance of communication. The only problem was that I explained the problem AFTER I had been drinking. Her mother had no clue as to the magnitude of my assigned and assumed capacity in Jenny and her children's lives. Even though I insisted on cooking Thanksgiving dinner after their arrival- traveling with Ed, Jen's step-father, having driven all of the way from the Poconnos in Pennsylvania. Why would I let her cook after that? Just because Sue knew that Jen wasn't a cook wasn't going to fly by my familial standards.
I was observant enough growing up to not allow it, especially since it was the first time I had met Jen's mother. One thing I did not know was that Sue left Jen's dad, James Bradshaw, to be with his best friend.
Jim was killed by Mary Jo Paquette, in 2012. She ran over him on his motorcycle while claiming to be in Lansing on business for her drug manufacturing company that she sold dope for but was really having an affair with a married man who was a doctor.
He didn't even get out of the car to check on the victim lying the writhing in the street for twenty minutes until he finally died- Jim's torso ripped apart. I can only imagine the pain and agony he must have felt. I can only imagine the last thoughts that must have ran through his mind- thoughts of his only child, Jenny, and his grandchildren, Drew, and, Siena.
Jenny almost hung herself in the barn in Mesick while I was in prison right after this happened. I never, ever, ever blamed her for my situation, even though it was partially her fault. I never did say that it was her fault. I always owned the responsibility for the charge as my own, and I took what was mine from them while I was in prison. They didn't take anything from me- only denied me my dental work. The only mistake I made throughout the pre sentencing was using Jarboe for my defense- well, that and not actually hiring a REAL ATTORNEY.
Mr. Gomery, on the other hand- the new prosecuting attorney (since Jarboe was the old one, little did I know) Gomery would get a bit of heat later with a murder-for-hire gig....
Stay Tuned. I Got The Stories You Will Never Believe. And They Are TRUE.
Thanks-
Zachery Scott Polk 4/12/17 6:11 AM
No longer could I feel safe enough to sleep in the same house.
After confronting Jennifer about how the parenting was being done, and the lack of discipline, I became a bit irate.
Wine, at the price of $12 for 3 1.5 liter bottles, helped me to voice how I felt about it. Unfortunately being afraid to speak up about much of anything when there is confrontation involved, is a direct result of the abuse I had endured as a child- a very common issue among people, and part of what is wrong in society today. I call it cellboss syndrome. It's usually handed down by men, and it's the cause of grief for women as well.
Well, Jen did not approve of anything I offered, no matter what. With plenty of wine to drink, I stayed holed-up in my office- the only space in the house I could call mine, where I sat at my computer while stewing about the fact that we were not working together at anything as a family unit. I gathered up some things and loaded my CB900 for an escape from this prison, riding to Larry's place in Mesick the next day.
Once at Larry's place, I was given permission to use his cabin, where I hid until I could come up with a good plan. The idea was to reassert myself and then try to correct the terribly wrong turn that life had taken.
One huge unanswered question was, when- exactly, that had happened.
I have a feeling that my mistake was, not seeing that I had found my way into a toxic relationship, but my level of self esteem, as well as my need to prove that I am valuable, to be accepted, it kept me blinded.
My mother never accepted me.
I had spent my whole life trying to get her love and approval. After my grandmother died, I called my mother to tell her that I was done and that, due to her and her siblings treatment of me, when Lillian died, I would most likely never speak to her again.
And I have not since August of 2015.
Several days to weeks went by while I thought and worried. My anxiety grew to the point where I was crippled and could not leave. The fear of getting popped on my bike froze me in my tracks.
There was no way that I was losing my bike over my "wife's" inability to be part of a family or even a half-assed parent. My grief over my family slipping through my fingers made it hard not to drink. It all destroyed my appetite completely.
Down to 128 pounds, I was dying and they did not care. The internet and "gaming" was in charge. Spending money under the rule of no rule and "Save up for what?" was destroying everything I had worked so hard for. Jenny did nothing to prepare to move
Jenny did nothing to administer guidance to Siena. The only rules and discipline were for, and against, myself. My communication was limited to my own family. I was not allowed to speak to anyone she called her friend- not allowed to speak to her family.
The only person I didn't get flexed on for speaking to was her cousin Dennis. How can you tell another adult who they can and can't speak to?
After listening to Jenny crying and agonizing over her relationship with her mother, I called and explained the importance of communication. The only problem was that I explained the problem AFTER I had been drinking. Her mother had no clue as to the magnitude of my assigned and assumed capacity in Jenny and her children's lives. Even though I insisted on cooking Thanksgiving dinner after their arrival- traveling with Ed, Jen's step-father, having driven all of the way from the Poconnos in Pennsylvania. Why would I let her cook after that? Just because Sue knew that Jen wasn't a cook wasn't going to fly by my familial standards.
I was observant enough growing up to not allow it, especially since it was the first time I had met Jen's mother. One thing I did not know was that Sue left Jen's dad, James Bradshaw, to be with his best friend.
Jim was killed by Mary Jo Paquette, in 2012. She ran over him on his motorcycle while claiming to be in Lansing on business for her drug manufacturing company that she sold dope for but was really having an affair with a married man who was a doctor.
He didn't even get out of the car to check on the victim lying the writhing in the street for twenty minutes until he finally died- Jim's torso ripped apart. I can only imagine the pain and agony he must have felt. I can only imagine the last thoughts that must have ran through his mind- thoughts of his only child, Jenny, and his grandchildren, Drew, and, Siena.
Jenny almost hung herself in the barn in Mesick while I was in prison right after this happened. I never, ever, ever blamed her for my situation, even though it was partially her fault. I never did say that it was her fault. I always owned the responsibility for the charge as my own, and I took what was mine from them while I was in prison. They didn't take anything from me- only denied me my dental work. The only mistake I made throughout the pre sentencing was using Jarboe for my defense- well, that and not actually hiring a REAL ATTORNEY.
Mr. Gomery, on the other hand- the new prosecuting attorney (since Jarboe was the old one, little did I know) Gomery would get a bit of heat later with a murder-for-hire gig....
Stay Tuned. I Got The Stories You Will Never Believe. And They Are TRUE.
Thanks-
Zachery Scott Polk 4/12/17 6:11 AM
No comments:
Post a Comment
These stories/ this book material is unreviewed. lease leave your comments. I can take it.
Thank you for reading my stories!
Happy Fathers Day!