GIRLFRIEND
I had to wait for another year to pass before I got a second opportunity to see Samuel again. In a somewhat frantic call for help, Samuel asked if I could urgently meet him at his girlfriend’s home. He’d argued with his mother, and she’d apparently gone nuts. On the way I got more info: after their argument he’d temporarily moved in with a friend, and to get back at him she’d called his girlfriend’s parents and made an appointment to see them – I’ve paraphrased because I’m not entirely sure of the exact words he used. Under normal circumstances, it would be nice to imagine that divorced parents would understand that arguments will erupt and trust that the other would sort it out. Or, if needed and if we had a semblance of communication, we could simply discuss whatever was going on. But there was nothing normal about my divorced parental relationship with Aida. I was uncomfortable because I was pretty sure that my presence would only serve to aggravate the situation. But frankly, after having waited so long to hear from Samuel he’d called and asked for my help – and nothing else mattered.
I briefly got to meet his first girlfriend while Samuel brought me up to speed. When Samuel didn’t respond to having his car and phone taken away and after he was denied access to collect his clothes and personal items, Aida – despite having never met the girl’s parents before – called the mother to arrange an urgent meeting. I arrived a few minutes before their scheduled meeting. Uncertain of Aida’s next move they anticipated that she, together with her husband Grant, would lie about Samuel – and they wanted me to be there as a character witness. Well, that was the sum total of the info I could gleam before her father intervened to avoid an incident on his doorstep. My first impression – which was all I had time for – was of a polite salt-of-the-earth reasonably successful family man. After our hurried introduction, he suggested that I remain out of sight while he and his wife handled the situation. I thanked him for being there for Samuel and, feeling like I was bungling my words, I attempted to let him know that I’d raised Samuel. I told him I’d kept a journal, and if he wanted to know anything about this magnificent young man, I’d always make myself available.
As requested, I waited out of sight around the corner at a local garage. Unfortunately, Aida and Grant saw me as I was leaving. I didn’t mind waiting, but I was confused and becoming more concerned as the hours dragged by. It was a little short of four hours before I was called. Samuel and his girlfriend met me out front and I wasn’t invited in. He was visibly shaken, and rather hurriedly informed me that the most bizarre first meeting of their respective parents had turned into a rant about me and what a terrible husband and human being I’d been. They both hastened to reassure me that they didn’t believe what had been said about me because Aida and Grant had also blatantly lied about Samuel and his girlfriend. Grant, in the role of protective husband, had taken the lead in informing them about my abusive personality because it was apparently too painful for Aida to verbalise.
I can’t imagine what Samuel, his girlfriend, or this wholesome family who’d never met me, must have thought. I wasn’t too surprised by Aida’s projection of her aggressive behaviour onto me. However, I was disturbed by the details they’d concocted and what they were willing to share. I was not only verbally and physically abusive, but also a sexual deviant who’d forced Aida to participate in group sex against her expressed objections. And it was just too much to hear Samuel awkwardly ask, ‘You didn’t do that did you, Dad?’
I didn’t get invited in, so I didn’t get to see her parents. I had to wonder, how does one defend oneself and just what the hell would I have to say? During our marriage, Aida and I had had a pretty ordinary sex life, and I could recall only one potentially embarrassing situation that we’d been involved in, which I’d written off in my journal as part of ‘the subtle erosion of my values.’ As requested, I sent Samuel everything I’d learned and summarised about Aida’s personality disorder. I suggested he read Randi Kreger’s two books Stop Walking on Eggshells and The Essential Family Guide to Borderline Personality Disorder, both of which were written with a more compassionate approach to the disorder. As an alternative, I additionally sent him a link to Dr. Tara J. Palmatier, who in my opinion takes more of a run-for-your-life approach.
A few days later Samuel emailed me to let me know that his girlfriend’s parents had sided with Aida and he no longer needed the scooter I had repaired for him. I suggested he thank her parents for being there for him, and to try and understand that parents are expected to support each other. I don’t know what their argument was about. I never asked and I wasn’t told. We’d also had our fights, which Kathy explained as primordial young-bull, old-bull head butting and said were an important developmental phase. Even though I knew it was important to push back, our arguments always left me conflicted and somewhat upset. Sadly, I suspected that his relationship wouldn’t survive what her conservative parents had been exposed to because it’s hard to believe that a parent isn’t acting with their child’s best interests at heart. Equally, I needed to accept that society should listen to women who all too often struggle to speak about their abuse. Just what was I supposed to think about someone who thinks nothing of using the pain of others, including what my grandmother silently endured, to protect themselves from being exposed for who and what they really are. Aida seldom surprised me, but this time she had. Knowing just how much Aida valued her privacy, she surprised me with just how far she was willing to go.
ALTERNATIVE REALITY
Another birthday and another Father’s Day passed without hearing from Samuel. It hurt so much that I’d get a knot between my shoulder blades that simply couldn’t release. I understood that after the last argument he must be under incredible pressure to prove his loyalty. However, it felt like I was being physically punished. When Samuel called, I wasn’t sure if they’d had a minor disagreement or if they were at war again – before remembering there is no such thing as a minor disagreement with Aida. Strangely, he needed to know how long he’d lived with me. It all sounded like Aida was attempting to rewrite history by suggesting he’d only been in my care for a relatively short period when she had been having trouble with Martin. I wasn’t sure about giving him the information he needed. If they were arguing, even documented court records wouldn’t change her thinking. It would only subject Samuel to unrelenting twists and turns of the truth, accompanied by bouts of rage, until he agreed with her version of events and apologized profusely for not believing her in the first place.
Aida might have wanted to present an alternate set of facts. Out of pure necessity, I’d carefully dated and categorized all our correspondence, including our messages and emails, letters from attorneys and all their emails, and copies of all court documents. I’d also maintained a ledger of all child-support payments with attached copies of bank statements. For many, it might sound a touch obsessive. However, I never knew when, or for what reason, I’d end up back in a courtroom trying to defend myself. I had all the detailed evidence, and the truth was that she’d never taken care of him, not from the very first day he was born. While we were married, it was an au pair’s job to take care of the kids and I’d be balled out for wanting to spend time with them. Even taking ten minutes to read Ellen a bedtime story could easily erupt into an argument that would last all night.
We separated in April of 2000 shortly before Samuel’s third birthday. Then, according to an affidavit signed and submitted by Aida in a later court case, for the next sixteen months I had both Ellen and Samuel for eight out of fourteen days of every two-week cycle. This arrangement continued until nine days before Ellen’s eighth birthday when she was painfully removed. Our arrangement was changed in October of 2001 through a letter from Aida’s attorney, in which I was given de facto custody of Samuel. In March of 2002, when Samuel was only four years old, he was abducted by Aida. I lost an urgent application with the High Court for his return pending an investigation. Fortunately, he was returned six months later. Those six months represented the only time Samuel was not in my care.
Two months after Samuel’s sixth birthday, on July 31, 2003, the High Court of South Africa granted me full legal custody of Samuel. I couldn’t have made access any easier, yet despite our best effort to accommodate almost all of Aida’s requests she barely made any effort to see Samuel for the next six years, until she left Martin for Grant. I don’t need to say more because I have already gone through those details – but barring those six awful months, Samuel had always been in my care. With their previous argument Samuel was expected to believe that I was physically and sexually abusive, and now what? After more than seventeen years of me filling both parental roles, Samuel was now expected to pretend that I hadn’t been there, or perhaps Aida would like him to believe that I had never existed at all?
I thought he deserved to have a copy of his own history. So, I compiled a dated summary, added copies of all the important legal documents, and sent it to him to keep. In a way, I felt proud he was attempting to stand up to his mother, while at the same time I felt duty-bound to warn him that confronting her with the facts simply wasn’t worth it and wouldn’t change a thing. Naturally, I was concerned, because I knew that even a minor disagreement with Aida could easily escalate and bring out the very worst in her. In my experience, there are a number of reasons to avoid any argument with Aida. Firstly, she’s incapable of ever admitting fault, and on the rare occasions when she does it’s usually part of a strategy that’s meant to distract you or to get you to drop your guard. Secondly, facts, including affidavits signed by Aida herself, will not change her new narrative which she expects everyone to believe. Thirdly, trying to pacify Aida doesn’t work. With Aida, if you pivot to consider her perspective it will only lead to an endless litany of admissions that you’ll be expected to make, and the more you concede, the angrier and more resentful she will get – ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ or even an outright admission of guilt: ‘You know what, I’m wrong, I’m so sorry, I’ll do better next time.’ – it’s never enough.
The best advice I could think of was to suggest that he didn’t engage, and wherever possible do his best to politely walk away. But I also knew that when Aida wanted to discuss something she was unhappy about, she’s incredibly hard to avoid. And there is also her behaviour you have no alternative but to confront for your own sanity: nothing, including you, is ever enough or good enough for Aida; the subtle erosion of your values where you must draw a line; the endless lies and the infuriating flip of projecting her own behaviour on you so you stand accused of the very things that she’s been up to; her insistence on absolute loyalty to the exclusion of all others; and the bulling and relentless raging used to enforce compliance to her will. I reminded Samuel to read the books I’d previously suggested and to remember that his mother wasn’t well. And I reminded him that she’s reacting out of a perpetual, heightened state of fear.
NOT HEARING
Perhaps I went too far. I’d given Samuel everything I could think of that I hoped would help, but it could have been too much. I didn’t hear from Samuel for another few years and I was stuck with so many unanswered questions that I could only speculate about. It could be that Samuel had decided he no longer wanted to have anything to do with either of us, or he could be going through a healthy rejection-of-the-mother phase – which, as far as I was concerned, meant me. Or perhaps Samuel was seeing something in his mother that I was not privy to. Just maybe she had made an effort to change. For his sake, I certainly hoped so. He may have read the books I’d suggested, done some more research of his own and decided, without being manipulated by his mother, that he’d be the person who’d always be there for her. If anyone should be able to understand his decision, well then, that person would be me.
I was going around in circles and not getting any answers that made sense. Until I read ‘We are almost always in collision with something or somebody, even though our motives are good.’ from page sixty of AA’s Big Book, the source document for all Twelve Step programs. I was in a lot of pain, and if I wanted that to change I’d need to re-calibrate my thinking. And the only thing I knew that worked was to look for my part in what had happened. For thirty-two years, being a parent was not only the biggest job of my life: it was my identity. I’d sacrificed and made an incredible effort to be the best parent I could, and that won me the legal right to take care of my children. But I’d changed paths. I can say that from the day I first got sick, it no longer felt like I was in charge, or that I had a choice, and I never believed it would negatively affect my children. However, we always do have a choice. And while I believe that I continued to prioritize my role as a parent, I had to ask myself if I was the main reason Samuel wanted or needed to go to his mother?
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