June 20, 2008
May 15, 2008
Domestic Abuse in Affluent Homes
Well today I am veering off the topic of my blog to write a post for Amnesty International. The topic I am choosing to right about is something that I have personal knowledge of. Domestic Abuse in Affluent families.
It does not matter what your financial background is in order to experience the fear of being abused by the person whom you love and trusted not to harm you, but it really happens everyday. Just think about Nicole Simpson and how the police who went to her home to protect her were simply enamored with OJ being a star. Where was the help for her? She lived in a mansion in Brentwood. OJ told the police it was her problem and they were happy to believe him. It's like a good ole boys club. I wonder what the numbers of police men who abuse their wives or children are? I know it happens all over the country.
The world does not understand why affluent women are afraid to leave or have their spouses arrested. These men hire hire priced attorney's to get them off the hook. They can afford to buy their way out. Poor people don't have that luxury.
The problem is it is almost impossible to get help from a family because as I know first hand the old expression was "We do not wash our dirty laundry in public." That's how my former husband was taught and that is what he insisted be the rules in our home.
The first time I was beat up I think I reacted like many women, I simply brushed it off to his being drunk. Actually when I met him he was 28 years old and drunk every night. It is what ended his marriage at such a young age. But I did not know that at the time. His former wife did not bother to confide that little fact to me. She probaby believed someplace in her head, that it was her fault. I whole heartedly believed he was just venting his anger about how much he was losing in the divorce and being separated from his daughter who was two at the time. I thought he would simply sober up on his own and heal from his divorce. I was also newly divorced but with no children so I really felt sorry for him when every Sunday he was literally in tears when he returned his daughter to her mom and his old house. I was smitten by his sensitivity and his love of his child. Little did I know that many people with alcohol problems cry about a lot of things. It's a great way to get sympathy and keep drinking. I sure fell for it. After all he was highly educated, an assistant deputy DA and as good looking as any famous actor in LA and his family owned a movie studio no less. He had it all going for him. I was in love.
It was a wonderful warm Palm Springs night the first time he ever laid a hand on me. As women who have been abused will often acknowledge it will not take much to set a violent tempered person who is drinking into a rage. I simply told him I was tired and I thought since it was 3 am maybe he should get some sleep and stop drinking so we could have a nice early day.
I had been looking forward to sitting out by the hotel pool to get a tan.
WELL, before I knew it, I had two black eyes and was simply in shock. this was the man who I fell head over heals in love with, 5 months before this. I had told all my friends how amazing he was and that I was going to marry him. Well needless to say that ended our Palm Springs birthday get away. We drove home the next morning in silence. Of course there was no remorse, he said it was my fault for upsetting him. I often hear that from the victim. Reverse psychology is quite common I have learned over the years.
I did not tell have the courage to tell any of my close friends what happened, but confided in a woman I had just recently me through him at a club.She told me to pack a bag and stay with her which I did. I was humiliated. How could this happen to ME. I did not come from an abusive household, neither parents drank except one drink on a holiday. I was not emotionally prepared for this. I was the adored only girl in the family. I had nothing to draw from, I was in foreign water to be sure. Back then no one spoke about Domestic Abuse or quite frankly Alcoholism for that matter.
But like so many women, he kept calling me asking me to come back, he was so sorry. It would never happen again.
I'm not going to chronicle the many more incidents themselves but focus on the lack of help for being abused that I got.
When he broke into my apartment in a drunken rage while I was gone, when I called the police they didn't even take it seriously, It was simply an area they didn't get involved with. Domestic Issues. This was back in the late 70's.
I don't think they believed me. Even though a neighbor had called the police, helicopters where hovering over my place and the front door was kicked in. The police didn't care. They said I couldn't prove it was him. The Hell I couldn't. There wasn't a thing missing or broken. He was looking for me because I had a friends, good friend staying in my extra bedroom and he didn't like that. We were not even living together because of his drinking and his temper. He was gunning for me or perhaps the couple who was supposed to stay with me. They were so afraid they left and checked into a hotel. It meant nothing to anyone that I was terrified. That's emotional abuse and it hurts just as much as a slap.
It was my problem to deal with. Not the police or my friends wanted to stick around. There is no sympathy. The victim is just thought to be an idiot for sticking around.
I have learned that there were two definite personalities to my abuser. The kind loving man who I just adored, and the man that could break your nose or you cheek bone like he did mine.
What is it that keeps women like myself in an abusive relationship? Is it that we really believe we deserved to be abused.. I think in the back of my mind I always felt somewhat responsible for setting him off because I always defended myself which just angered him more.
I was not a wishy washy coward but I talked back. That was the biggest problem for him, there should be no reasoning with him when he was angry.
In later years after we got married he wasn't drinking and the anger was still there. It usually ended up with the door taking the brunt of it. But it didn't matter because he had the money to repair whatever he wrecked. The family did not need to be involved.
Then I was expecting our first child. He was sober and angry and he actually kicked me in the stomach. Lucky for me the baby was ok. He took me to his father's house and his housekeeper took care of me while he calmed down.
It was never talked about. The only person who even listened was the housekeeper. She told me to keep calm, and have the baby and no matter what happened this child would always be mine. I have a feeling she knew what I'd been through herself, but even she stayed in an abusive marriage. She managed to live in my father in laws home five days a week to escape.
Here we were from two different worlds and yet we were in the same boat. Feeling like you had to stay in the marriage.
Too many people were involved in our lives and of course I did know what I had gotten myself into when I married him.
Once again, I took full responsibility for what had happened to me.
It was now 1984, I had no place else to go quite frankly. I could never afford to raise a child on my meager hair dressers income. I felt trapped. It was never an option in my mind to go live in the ghetto, where I could afford the rent on my own.
I was spoiled by my life style. I did not want to give it up, plus I married him through sobriety and he had not taken a drink.
I could not break my vows. I did not even say for better or for worse when I married him. I simply said through sobriety.
He didn't pick up a drink for 14 years but his anger did not go away. Our son seemed to calm him down for years. He was very happy to have another family. I felt that he had outgrown his violent side. I was dead wrong. The abuse had turned to verbal abuse. Little by little over the years he tried to break me down with insults. Lucky for me I was strong and never believed these insults to be true. I give my family credit for loving and adoring me so much that my self esteem was always very good. It's what saved me from total melt down. It's also what made him ever angrier most of the time. I would stick up for myself. When the insults were aimed at my family, I stuck up for them also. I actually got good at arguing with a lawyer.
I learned that he would not fight fair and he used everything I loved and picked it apart and threw it in my face. Then of course he would apologize and buy me something nice. I was not above taking the payoff for silence back then. Even though I loved to say to him that "He could not buy me," I was still there wasn't I? He did buy me, I just didn't admit it to myself.
I lived in a beautiful English Tutor in Malibu.
When he finally did pick up that drink, I now had to think about how much my son loved him. He was an amazing father. He never lifted a finger to our son. This only made me feel like it was more my fault. He started going back to the martial arts in sobriety which really helped him to release all that pent up need to hit something. When he got his Black Belt somehow the need to stay sober was not a priority any longer. He had been taking pain pills and back then I had no idea how much closer to drinking he was getting every day.
All the signs were there that the Volcano was going to erupt, but of course, I did not want to admit it. His family thought he was never going to pick up a drink again, and my family didn't know much about his past, because I didn't want them to know.
I hid it from them.
I went to Al-Anon for years and even they don't want to talk about it. They would tell me to focus on me, not the problem.
I simply did not know how to separate the two issues.
I think Abuse is the ultimate trap. If you seek help, your entire life as you knew it will be lost forever. Because there is no permanent cure for Anger. Not even "Anger Management". If you leave, you are guaranteed to live a sub-standard life style because there isn't a court in the world that can give you as much money as you had together as a family, and your children will reap the effects of that choice. If you stay, you believe you deserve whatever happens to you. You feel you sold your soul for a life style and quite frankly you have.
After my husband picked up that first drink, it took me six years to actually leave him. Before I could bat an eye lash, he was in another relationship with a woman who looked like we could be sisters. Ten days was al it took to be replaced. It was one of my biggest fears. I had thought that he loved me enough to get and stay sober again. I was wrong.
His drinking and trying to get sober was hell on him also. His anger got him into fights and one time it ended up resulting in 9 pins in his right arm and almost the use of it. The last time he was facing 3 years in prison for slashing his landlords tires an threatening some workers with a large hunting knife.
It was then that I really believed that I was not his problem, but it took almost 20 years for me to accept that. In the end, his addiction not his anger got the best of him. He was so terrified of going to prison he never picked up another drink, he died falling off a balcony with a belly full of Valium.
I was questioned for murder because I was with him when he died. He was grieving for his girlfriend who had hung herself ten days earlier. That was the ultimate act of Violence. She punished him for his being angry with her for not staying sober one more time and she was totally jealous of our continuing relationship with our son. We always put his feelings first. We were having a more than civil divorce when he died suddenly.
In the end, even though he died because of a fall, I was questioned for murder by the police and the coroner. I guess they knew his history. But knowing how he was, I would have been responsible for his death if another physical incident were involved. Thank god he didn't hit me. They would have never believed me.
Today I feel there really is no way out, you suffer no matter what you choose. If you stay you will suffer, if you leave you and your children and the family will be torn apart.
I believe that violence and addiction are closely related as many do. but I also know that it goes much deeper than that because the abuser doesn't need alcohol to fuel the rage. It's something just in them. And in my experience therapy did not help either of us.
I was simply addicted to him or maybe the abuse. No one has ever given me a clear picture of why I stayed for so long, or why I stayed silent for so long.
.
It does not matter what your financial background is in order to experience the fear of being abused by the person whom you love and trusted not to harm you, but it really happens everyday. Just think about Nicole Simpson and how the police who went to her home to protect her were simply enamored with OJ being a star. Where was the help for her? She lived in a mansion in Brentwood. OJ told the police it was her problem and they were happy to believe him. It's like a good ole boys club. I wonder what the numbers of police men who abuse their wives or children are? I know it happens all over the country.
The world does not understand why affluent women are afraid to leave or have their spouses arrested. These men hire hire priced attorney's to get them off the hook. They can afford to buy their way out. Poor people don't have that luxury.
The problem is it is almost impossible to get help from a family because as I know first hand the old expression was "We do not wash our dirty laundry in public." That's how my former husband was taught and that is what he insisted be the rules in our home.
The first time I was beat up I think I reacted like many women, I simply brushed it off to his being drunk. Actually when I met him he was 28 years old and drunk every night. It is what ended his marriage at such a young age. But I did not know that at the time. His former wife did not bother to confide that little fact to me. She probaby believed someplace in her head, that it was her fault. I whole heartedly believed he was just venting his anger about how much he was losing in the divorce and being separated from his daughter who was two at the time. I thought he would simply sober up on his own and heal from his divorce. I was also newly divorced but with no children so I really felt sorry for him when every Sunday he was literally in tears when he returned his daughter to her mom and his old house. I was smitten by his sensitivity and his love of his child. Little did I know that many people with alcohol problems cry about a lot of things. It's a great way to get sympathy and keep drinking. I sure fell for it. After all he was highly educated, an assistant deputy DA and as good looking as any famous actor in LA and his family owned a movie studio no less. He had it all going for him. I was in love.
It was a wonderful warm Palm Springs night the first time he ever laid a hand on me. As women who have been abused will often acknowledge it will not take much to set a violent tempered person who is drinking into a rage. I simply told him I was tired and I thought since it was 3 am maybe he should get some sleep and stop drinking so we could have a nice early day.
I had been looking forward to sitting out by the hotel pool to get a tan.
WELL, before I knew it, I had two black eyes and was simply in shock. this was the man who I fell head over heals in love with, 5 months before this. I had told all my friends how amazing he was and that I was going to marry him. Well needless to say that ended our Palm Springs birthday get away. We drove home the next morning in silence. Of course there was no remorse, he said it was my fault for upsetting him. I often hear that from the victim. Reverse psychology is quite common I have learned over the years.
I did not tell have the courage to tell any of my close friends what happened, but confided in a woman I had just recently me through him at a club.She told me to pack a bag and stay with her which I did. I was humiliated. How could this happen to ME. I did not come from an abusive household, neither parents drank except one drink on a holiday. I was not emotionally prepared for this. I was the adored only girl in the family. I had nothing to draw from, I was in foreign water to be sure. Back then no one spoke about Domestic Abuse or quite frankly Alcoholism for that matter.
But like so many women, he kept calling me asking me to come back, he was so sorry. It would never happen again.
I'm not going to chronicle the many more incidents themselves but focus on the lack of help for being abused that I got.
When he broke into my apartment in a drunken rage while I was gone, when I called the police they didn't even take it seriously, It was simply an area they didn't get involved with. Domestic Issues. This was back in the late 70's.
I don't think they believed me. Even though a neighbor had called the police, helicopters where hovering over my place and the front door was kicked in. The police didn't care. They said I couldn't prove it was him. The Hell I couldn't. There wasn't a thing missing or broken. He was looking for me because I had a friends, good friend staying in my extra bedroom and he didn't like that. We were not even living together because of his drinking and his temper. He was gunning for me or perhaps the couple who was supposed to stay with me. They were so afraid they left and checked into a hotel. It meant nothing to anyone that I was terrified. That's emotional abuse and it hurts just as much as a slap.
It was my problem to deal with. Not the police or my friends wanted to stick around. There is no sympathy. The victim is just thought to be an idiot for sticking around.
I have learned that there were two definite personalities to my abuser. The kind loving man who I just adored, and the man that could break your nose or you cheek bone like he did mine.
What is it that keeps women like myself in an abusive relationship? Is it that we really believe we deserved to be abused.. I think in the back of my mind I always felt somewhat responsible for setting him off because I always defended myself which just angered him more.
I was not a wishy washy coward but I talked back. That was the biggest problem for him, there should be no reasoning with him when he was angry.
In later years after we got married he wasn't drinking and the anger was still there. It usually ended up with the door taking the brunt of it. But it didn't matter because he had the money to repair whatever he wrecked. The family did not need to be involved.
Then I was expecting our first child. He was sober and angry and he actually kicked me in the stomach. Lucky for me the baby was ok. He took me to his father's house and his housekeeper took care of me while he calmed down.
It was never talked about. The only person who even listened was the housekeeper. She told me to keep calm, and have the baby and no matter what happened this child would always be mine. I have a feeling she knew what I'd been through herself, but even she stayed in an abusive marriage. She managed to live in my father in laws home five days a week to escape.
Here we were from two different worlds and yet we were in the same boat. Feeling like you had to stay in the marriage.
Too many people were involved in our lives and of course I did know what I had gotten myself into when I married him.
Once again, I took full responsibility for what had happened to me.
It was now 1984, I had no place else to go quite frankly. I could never afford to raise a child on my meager hair dressers income. I felt trapped. It was never an option in my mind to go live in the ghetto, where I could afford the rent on my own.
I was spoiled by my life style. I did not want to give it up, plus I married him through sobriety and he had not taken a drink.
I could not break my vows. I did not even say for better or for worse when I married him. I simply said through sobriety.
He didn't pick up a drink for 14 years but his anger did not go away. Our son seemed to calm him down for years. He was very happy to have another family. I felt that he had outgrown his violent side. I was dead wrong. The abuse had turned to verbal abuse. Little by little over the years he tried to break me down with insults. Lucky for me I was strong and never believed these insults to be true. I give my family credit for loving and adoring me so much that my self esteem was always very good. It's what saved me from total melt down. It's also what made him ever angrier most of the time. I would stick up for myself. When the insults were aimed at my family, I stuck up for them also. I actually got good at arguing with a lawyer.
I learned that he would not fight fair and he used everything I loved and picked it apart and threw it in my face. Then of course he would apologize and buy me something nice. I was not above taking the payoff for silence back then. Even though I loved to say to him that "He could not buy me," I was still there wasn't I? He did buy me, I just didn't admit it to myself.
I lived in a beautiful English Tutor in Malibu.
When he finally did pick up that drink, I now had to think about how much my son loved him. He was an amazing father. He never lifted a finger to our son. This only made me feel like it was more my fault. He started going back to the martial arts in sobriety which really helped him to release all that pent up need to hit something. When he got his Black Belt somehow the need to stay sober was not a priority any longer. He had been taking pain pills and back then I had no idea how much closer to drinking he was getting every day.
All the signs were there that the Volcano was going to erupt, but of course, I did not want to admit it. His family thought he was never going to pick up a drink again, and my family didn't know much about his past, because I didn't want them to know.
I hid it from them.
I went to Al-Anon for years and even they don't want to talk about it. They would tell me to focus on me, not the problem.
I simply did not know how to separate the two issues.
I think Abuse is the ultimate trap. If you seek help, your entire life as you knew it will be lost forever. Because there is no permanent cure for Anger. Not even "Anger Management". If you leave, you are guaranteed to live a sub-standard life style because there isn't a court in the world that can give you as much money as you had together as a family, and your children will reap the effects of that choice. If you stay, you believe you deserve whatever happens to you. You feel you sold your soul for a life style and quite frankly you have.
After my husband picked up that first drink, it took me six years to actually leave him. Before I could bat an eye lash, he was in another relationship with a woman who looked like we could be sisters. Ten days was al it took to be replaced. It was one of my biggest fears. I had thought that he loved me enough to get and stay sober again. I was wrong.
His drinking and trying to get sober was hell on him also. His anger got him into fights and one time it ended up resulting in 9 pins in his right arm and almost the use of it. The last time he was facing 3 years in prison for slashing his landlords tires an threatening some workers with a large hunting knife.
It was then that I really believed that I was not his problem, but it took almost 20 years for me to accept that. In the end, his addiction not his anger got the best of him. He was so terrified of going to prison he never picked up another drink, he died falling off a balcony with a belly full of Valium.
I was questioned for murder because I was with him when he died. He was grieving for his girlfriend who had hung herself ten days earlier. That was the ultimate act of Violence. She punished him for his being angry with her for not staying sober one more time and she was totally jealous of our continuing relationship with our son. We always put his feelings first. We were having a more than civil divorce when he died suddenly.
In the end, even though he died because of a fall, I was questioned for murder by the police and the coroner. I guess they knew his history. But knowing how he was, I would have been responsible for his death if another physical incident were involved. Thank god he didn't hit me. They would have never believed me.
Today I feel there really is no way out, you suffer no matter what you choose. If you stay you will suffer, if you leave you and your children and the family will be torn apart.
I believe that violence and addiction are closely related as many do. but I also know that it goes much deeper than that because the abuser doesn't need alcohol to fuel the rage. It's something just in them. And in my experience therapy did not help either of us.
I was simply addicted to him or maybe the abuse. No one has ever given me a clear picture of why I stayed for so long, or why I stayed silent for so long.
.
February 05, 2008
Matt's Accomplishments
In spite of a terrible living situation for me Matt's first year at Menlo. He thrived.
In order to compensate for the fact that living in the Bay area was a far cry from what Matt thought it was going to be, he had visions of living in luxury like every other time we had gone to San Francisco in the past, his Grandfather had always arranged amazing luxurious accommodations. The family owned the Hyatt on Sunset along with the Sunset Gower Studios, and his grandfather always managed to get us suites to stay in. His grandfather used to call Matt, "The Little Prince," and in his own way that was how he was treated by everyone in our family. Once his Grandfather even got us the Presidential suite at the Hyatt on Union square. Now that is something to behold.
So when his dad and I rented a track house in a little middle class neighborhood in Foster City, with dirty orange carpets no less, he definetly was not a happy camper. To make up for the his dissappointment, I tried to make this place as much like home as I could, We even got him a piano so that he could continue to play it. (That' another Post for the future.)
It seemed to Matt that every dream he had of moving was not at all his new reality. To make up for our location,I took him to San Francisco every friday after school so that he did not feel like we totally ignored what he loved about San Francisco, Japan Town and the best Video store in town. He had started to amass quite a collection of Japanese animation at the time, which really helped his speaking the language with absolutely no accent to a Japanese person.
Till this day Matt is able to navigate the city of San Francisco better than most people who live on the Peninsula. I used to live and work there before I moved to LA and I knew that city like the back of my hand.
Of course by going to Japan Town every weekend the first stop was always the video store where we left with tons of Japanese Animation and classice Kourasawa films. This only enhanced his already vast knowledge of Japan and understanding the language.
He was so immersed into the entire culture even before going to high school and he actually had learned to understand it from watching animation in Japanese with English subtitles ever since grade school.
I could never get him to wake up in the morning for school and one day while flipping through the morning TV shows I stumbled upon a cartoon series that had "talking cats'.
Little did I know that "Sailor Moon" would be the catalyst to an entire new world for him. It was the beginning of his love of everythig Japanese.
Although he had studied the Martial Arts and gotten a black belt at ten years old, this sealed the deal, so to speak.
After winning the respect of his Japanese teacher, she put him up as a competitor in the much respected Japanese language contest. This in itself was unheard of.
It was not a competition that caucasians were entered in to. Not only did he compete he went on to take third place.
Now that in itself is a mystery. He was so much more proficient that the other two winners, but the award of first place was NEVER given to a non asian. The judges begrgingly had to give the award to him, asian or not. He was simply better than then all.
This lead to his being put up for a Rotary scholorship for a home study in Japan.
Not surprizing Matt won the Scholorship. He was fifteen years old and had barely ever had a sitter. Now he was off to Japan with two girls who did not speak the language. I was so proud of him and at the same time beyond nervous at him going away for a few months. This was the kid that barely survived his one trip to summer camp literally 25 miles down the road in Malibu.
But Matt was thriving at his new school. He was in his element and soaring to new heights. Who was I to stop him? It was the whole reason we moved up North in the fist place, so that Matt could be in a school that taught Japanese. I literally never dreamed that he would be so great at it.
My life on the other hand had become tragic. I would take Matt to school and come home and go back to sleep for a few hours.
I was really good at hiding it from Matt because I never wanted him to know what a wreck I really was. In the beginning his Dad would still come to visit us a couple of times a month, but we were pretty much on our own.
So I enrolled Matt into a Kendo class because he had always wanted to study the art of the Samurai. It was a good diversion for me also.
I really liked the instructors at the school and it was great physical training for Matt. He loved the uniform also, very cool, it looked like an ancient warrior outfit and the shinai were wood not real swords so he wasn't really going to hurt himself.
The first class would have had me running out the door and never come back. They did over 200 repetitions for the first warm up exercise of their swords over their heads. He couldn't move his arms the rest of the week. But he went back week after week.
To give you a little example of how scattered my head was, one night we just got home and the phone rang as I was taking his equipment out of the trunk. I ran into the house to get it and it was his Dad calling to see how the class had gone. I totally spaced out and left his big bag with all his equipment behind my car. The next morning late for school again, I backed out of the garage, right on top of his gear and crushed his crush proof helmet.
I was so mortified by my stupidity, but all I could do was laugh. Matt did not speak to me for several days he was so upset with me. One for ruining his equipment and two for laughing about it. I really think I must have been more affected by the anti-depressants my new doctor had given me then I ever remembered. What in the world would make me laugh at such a thing? It wasn't funny to see my son so upset. I stopped taking the anti-depressants. Talk about being in the clouds. I needed to be grounded. There was a lot going on in our world and the only thing positive about it was Matt's accomplishments and his new found activity.
The first year of school was coming to an end which meant Matt was off on his Japanese adventure and I was going back to Malibu to our home. I was nervous about both. I had not lived alone with his father while he was in and out of sobriety since before we got married. I did not know how I was going to handle it. I did not know if he would stay sober or be taking his pills or drinking. I was a nervous wreck. Matt had always given me the excuse to leave the room when I got nervous.
Now What?
In order to compensate for the fact that living in the Bay area was a far cry from what Matt thought it was going to be, he had visions of living in luxury like every other time we had gone to San Francisco in the past, his Grandfather had always arranged amazing luxurious accommodations. The family owned the Hyatt on Sunset along with the Sunset Gower Studios, and his grandfather always managed to get us suites to stay in. His grandfather used to call Matt, "The Little Prince," and in his own way that was how he was treated by everyone in our family. Once his Grandfather even got us the Presidential suite at the Hyatt on Union square. Now that is something to behold.
So when his dad and I rented a track house in a little middle class neighborhood in Foster City, with dirty orange carpets no less, he definetly was not a happy camper. To make up for the his dissappointment, I tried to make this place as much like home as I could, We even got him a piano so that he could continue to play it. (That' another Post for the future.)
It seemed to Matt that every dream he had of moving was not at all his new reality. To make up for our location,I took him to San Francisco every friday after school so that he did not feel like we totally ignored what he loved about San Francisco, Japan Town and the best Video store in town. He had started to amass quite a collection of Japanese animation at the time, which really helped his speaking the language with absolutely no accent to a Japanese person.
Till this day Matt is able to navigate the city of San Francisco better than most people who live on the Peninsula. I used to live and work there before I moved to LA and I knew that city like the back of my hand.
Of course by going to Japan Town every weekend the first stop was always the video store where we left with tons of Japanese Animation and classice Kourasawa films. This only enhanced his already vast knowledge of Japan and understanding the language.
He was so immersed into the entire culture even before going to high school and he actually had learned to understand it from watching animation in Japanese with English subtitles ever since grade school.
I could never get him to wake up in the morning for school and one day while flipping through the morning TV shows I stumbled upon a cartoon series that had "talking cats'.
Little did I know that "Sailor Moon" would be the catalyst to an entire new world for him. It was the beginning of his love of everythig Japanese.
Although he had studied the Martial Arts and gotten a black belt at ten years old, this sealed the deal, so to speak.
After winning the respect of his Japanese teacher, she put him up as a competitor in the much respected Japanese language contest. This in itself was unheard of.
It was not a competition that caucasians were entered in to. Not only did he compete he went on to take third place.
Now that in itself is a mystery. He was so much more proficient that the other two winners, but the award of first place was NEVER given to a non asian. The judges begrgingly had to give the award to him, asian or not. He was simply better than then all.
This lead to his being put up for a Rotary scholorship for a home study in Japan.
Not surprizing Matt won the Scholorship. He was fifteen years old and had barely ever had a sitter. Now he was off to Japan with two girls who did not speak the language. I was so proud of him and at the same time beyond nervous at him going away for a few months. This was the kid that barely survived his one trip to summer camp literally 25 miles down the road in Malibu.
But Matt was thriving at his new school. He was in his element and soaring to new heights. Who was I to stop him? It was the whole reason we moved up North in the fist place, so that Matt could be in a school that taught Japanese. I literally never dreamed that he would be so great at it.
My life on the other hand had become tragic. I would take Matt to school and come home and go back to sleep for a few hours.
I was really good at hiding it from Matt because I never wanted him to know what a wreck I really was. In the beginning his Dad would still come to visit us a couple of times a month, but we were pretty much on our own.
So I enrolled Matt into a Kendo class because he had always wanted to study the art of the Samurai. It was a good diversion for me also.
I really liked the instructors at the school and it was great physical training for Matt. He loved the uniform also, very cool, it looked like an ancient warrior outfit and the shinai were wood not real swords so he wasn't really going to hurt himself.
The first class would have had me running out the door and never come back. They did over 200 repetitions for the first warm up exercise of their swords over their heads. He couldn't move his arms the rest of the week. But he went back week after week.
To give you a little example of how scattered my head was, one night we just got home and the phone rang as I was taking his equipment out of the trunk. I ran into the house to get it and it was his Dad calling to see how the class had gone. I totally spaced out and left his big bag with all his equipment behind my car. The next morning late for school again, I backed out of the garage, right on top of his gear and crushed his crush proof helmet.
I was so mortified by my stupidity, but all I could do was laugh. Matt did not speak to me for several days he was so upset with me. One for ruining his equipment and two for laughing about it. I really think I must have been more affected by the anti-depressants my new doctor had given me then I ever remembered. What in the world would make me laugh at such a thing? It wasn't funny to see my son so upset. I stopped taking the anti-depressants. Talk about being in the clouds. I needed to be grounded. There was a lot going on in our world and the only thing positive about it was Matt's accomplishments and his new found activity.
The first year of school was coming to an end which meant Matt was off on his Japanese adventure and I was going back to Malibu to our home. I was nervous about both. I had not lived alone with his father while he was in and out of sobriety since before we got married. I did not know how I was going to handle it. I did not know if he would stay sober or be taking his pills or drinking. I was a nervous wreck. Matt had always given me the excuse to leave the room when I got nervous.
Now What?
January 13, 2008
STEPH'S FIRST YEAR AT MENLO
While Matt was adjusting to his new life up North so was I. Funny how the little things that I used to take for granted were so difficult to find.
I couldn't seem to find my way in the sea of complicated "Rich Wife's" of the Silicon Valley. Now that should be a movie or a reality show because I have never seen such a bunch of uptight women in my life.
Fist of all the fact that a woman marries money does not in my opinion warrant any type of respect. I was used to hanging out in the PTA with my idol, Pat Benetar. Now that was someone I could really admire and respect.
I found that up in Northern California you seemed to be the sum and substance of you frickin zip code. Even the head master at the school looked at me funny when I told him we were living in Foster City. Ohhhhhh forgive me if it doesn't fit into the profile of the elite. I took great pleasure in NOT telling people anything about our house in Malibu. I wanted them to get to know me for me, it didn't seem important to throw that into the mix or tell them that our family owned the Sunset Gower Studios because I had a really funny experience with telling that fact to a piano salesman up there.
Our best friend Bill who was Bob's closest friend from the days they actually went to Menlo as boarding students and then off to Stanford together called Bob one day because something had come up about me in a staff meeting. Seems that one of the Spanish teacher's at the school was married to the man who came over to tune the new piano we bought for Matt.
She was sitting next to Bill at the meeting and when Matt came up, she leaned over and whispered in his ear that her husband had heard him play the piano brilliantly and it was too bad that his Mother was a Porn Producer.
Bill pulled her out of the meeting and wanted to know where she heard that one from. She told him her husband had told her.
Little did she know that we were best friends. Bill called Bob without telling me to have a meeting with the man who was spreading these rumors around.
Bob flew up and had the meeting with Bill and the guy. The objective was to have him apologize and take back the statements his wife was spreading. Being a Latin man with such a large ego, he simply refused. He felt that there was no damage caused because the story had not leaked into the school yet.
Bob was furious. He tried to reason with the man and asked him how he would feel if his wife's reputation was being ruined by a ridiculous fantasy that the piano salesman had made up.
It seems that because, not to boast, but I am quite stunning to look at for the area compared to many of the woman I've seen up there myself. The salesman had never heard of our Studio and simply assumed I had to be into the porn industry because I can be somewhat Sexy at times. But how sexy could I have been in my sweats offering the piano tuner a glass of water and asking him if he had any kids and did they play the piano?
Lecherous men would have ruined my son's reputation at school and this guy could have cared less. He refused to apologize and walked away from the meeting.
Bill went to the Head Master and told him what had been said about me. Just so it would not get around the school.
My reputation was left intake but my feelings for the place were now on high alert.
I was stunned quite frankly, I had never met this woman and she was more than willing to gossip about me and my son. How dare she.
This wasn't the first time I had dealings with a woman up at the school. When I first started I had gone to a meeting to get involved with the Fund raising committee. I had so many years of experience with that in Malibu I thought I could just walk in and get started helping. Boy was I wrong. The woman who's committee I was with only wanted the title and she delegated most of the work to me. Now I didn't have a problem helping, but I had only been in the area for four weeks and I simply could not do everything she asked me to do. I asked her why she wasn't doing any of the stuff herself. She was livid that I would question her. Seems she had more important things to do like run for some position on the city council. This title was just a feather in her cap and she didn't have time for the work involved.
She didn't know who I was or how little I was about to eat shit from her. I busted her to the Chairman of the committee and resigned. I told her she would have to do the work herself, I wasn't her personal slave.
That was the end of my formal involvement at the higher levels of school activities.
I realized that I was too blond, too hot and too popular with the kids to be accepted at this place. I was just happy to sit in the circle after school waiting to pick up my son with the top down on my car, holding court. Matt would come out of class and sometimes pick me up and twirl me around, His friends loved us. We were a breath of fresh air to that stuffy little world of the elite. Thank God we didn't fit in. No matter how much plaid I wore, I was never going to be a Prep Mom. I didn't have the pedigree or the right mailing address. So now we were both free to be ourselves. We were different and happy to be so.
We had to find a way to be happy there and NOT fit in. We didn't like what we saw up there.
I used to call the area one big makeover disaster. I never saw so many people who needed a makeover as bad as up there. I didn't even try to have any friends up there beside Bill, Nancy and Angie. It was a lot easier to hide the fact that we really were a dysfunctional family just trying to get our son a great education. I can only imagine what the talk would have been if the school community really knew the truth.
I couldn't seem to find my way in the sea of complicated "Rich Wife's" of the Silicon Valley. Now that should be a movie or a reality show because I have never seen such a bunch of uptight women in my life.
Fist of all the fact that a woman marries money does not in my opinion warrant any type of respect. I was used to hanging out in the PTA with my idol, Pat Benetar. Now that was someone I could really admire and respect.
I found that up in Northern California you seemed to be the sum and substance of you frickin zip code. Even the head master at the school looked at me funny when I told him we were living in Foster City. Ohhhhhh forgive me if it doesn't fit into the profile of the elite. I took great pleasure in NOT telling people anything about our house in Malibu. I wanted them to get to know me for me, it didn't seem important to throw that into the mix or tell them that our family owned the Sunset Gower Studios because I had a really funny experience with telling that fact to a piano salesman up there.
Our best friend Bill who was Bob's closest friend from the days they actually went to Menlo as boarding students and then off to Stanford together called Bob one day because something had come up about me in a staff meeting. Seems that one of the Spanish teacher's at the school was married to the man who came over to tune the new piano we bought for Matt.
She was sitting next to Bill at the meeting and when Matt came up, she leaned over and whispered in his ear that her husband had heard him play the piano brilliantly and it was too bad that his Mother was a Porn Producer.
Bill pulled her out of the meeting and wanted to know where she heard that one from. She told him her husband had told her.
Little did she know that we were best friends. Bill called Bob without telling me to have a meeting with the man who was spreading these rumors around.
Bob flew up and had the meeting with Bill and the guy. The objective was to have him apologize and take back the statements his wife was spreading. Being a Latin man with such a large ego, he simply refused. He felt that there was no damage caused because the story had not leaked into the school yet.
Bob was furious. He tried to reason with the man and asked him how he would feel if his wife's reputation was being ruined by a ridiculous fantasy that the piano salesman had made up.
It seems that because, not to boast, but I am quite stunning to look at for the area compared to many of the woman I've seen up there myself. The salesman had never heard of our Studio and simply assumed I had to be into the porn industry because I can be somewhat Sexy at times. But how sexy could I have been in my sweats offering the piano tuner a glass of water and asking him if he had any kids and did they play the piano?
Lecherous men would have ruined my son's reputation at school and this guy could have cared less. He refused to apologize and walked away from the meeting.
Bill went to the Head Master and told him what had been said about me. Just so it would not get around the school.
My reputation was left intake but my feelings for the place were now on high alert.
I was stunned quite frankly, I had never met this woman and she was more than willing to gossip about me and my son. How dare she.
This wasn't the first time I had dealings with a woman up at the school. When I first started I had gone to a meeting to get involved with the Fund raising committee. I had so many years of experience with that in Malibu I thought I could just walk in and get started helping. Boy was I wrong. The woman who's committee I was with only wanted the title and she delegated most of the work to me. Now I didn't have a problem helping, but I had only been in the area for four weeks and I simply could not do everything she asked me to do. I asked her why she wasn't doing any of the stuff herself. She was livid that I would question her. Seems she had more important things to do like run for some position on the city council. This title was just a feather in her cap and she didn't have time for the work involved.
She didn't know who I was or how little I was about to eat shit from her. I busted her to the Chairman of the committee and resigned. I told her she would have to do the work herself, I wasn't her personal slave.
That was the end of my formal involvement at the higher levels of school activities.
I realized that I was too blond, too hot and too popular with the kids to be accepted at this place. I was just happy to sit in the circle after school waiting to pick up my son with the top down on my car, holding court. Matt would come out of class and sometimes pick me up and twirl me around, His friends loved us. We were a breath of fresh air to that stuffy little world of the elite. Thank God we didn't fit in. No matter how much plaid I wore, I was never going to be a Prep Mom. I didn't have the pedigree or the right mailing address. So now we were both free to be ourselves. We were different and happy to be so.
We had to find a way to be happy there and NOT fit in. We didn't like what we saw up there.
I used to call the area one big makeover disaster. I never saw so many people who needed a makeover as bad as up there. I didn't even try to have any friends up there beside Bill, Nancy and Angie. It was a lot easier to hide the fact that we really were a dysfunctional family just trying to get our son a great education. I can only imagine what the talk would have been if the school community really knew the truth.
Matt's First Year at Menlo
It was a difficult first year for Matt. He had really thought we would be living in the heart of San Francisco in some amazing high rise condo with City views. Instead we were in a middle class neighborhood in "Foster Shitty" as I used to call it.
Far cry from our home in Malibu. We planted ourselves in the middle of a tract house section of the Peninsula side of the City.
Matt of course had left all his friends behind and didn't really fit into the prep school attitude, which turned out to be one of the best things for him.
First thing he told me was that there was no way in hell that he was going to cut his hair, wear khaki pants and brown shoes to school. I didn't care, I just wanted him to be himself. So off he would go with his black leather jackets and his shades on everyday.
On the weekends I made an effort to go up to the city every weekend. We would find ourselves in Japan town having dinner, buying Japanese videos, going to the movies and sometimes going to JapanBowl and bowling. It's gone now, but it was really cool.
I just immersed him in his passion for all things Japanese he did love that part of it.
He was starting to be noticed in school by his peers for being really cool and different. He just has that very cool vibe to him.
He became friends with this amazing upperclassman student in his Japanese Class. Nicole would have a very lasting effect on him. She was the first person to actually recognize his humor and encouraged him to try out for Drama. It's a good thing he was so smitten with her because that was the beginning of him actually finding his passion.
One day Matt came home and asked me to cut his hair short, I was pretty surprised by his request. I asked him how short and he said "really short". I found out later that Nicole, who had this beautiful long red hair halfway down her back had cut it all off. He would follow suit. She inspired him it seems. They became friends, but in high school the age difference is too great for a freshman to date an upperclassman and that is all it would ever be.
His school was so different from Malibu, There was a lot going on socially there because it wasn't isolated like he was used to and little by little he started doing stuff with some of his friends. He also started to take Kendo, a martial art that he was always interested in. I will never forget the first class he attended. The instructor had them do over one hundred strokes with their "shenei swords" Made out of bamboo, it was long and not too heavy, but after all those strokes, he couldn't move his arm for a week. He loved it and stuck it out for a year.
He didn't forget his best friend from Malibu and invited her to go to the Prom with him even. I knew he missed our house but he did seem to be thriving more than he ever did in Malibu. He was no longer isolated at home in front of his computer screen.
The thing that impressed me most about this school was the fact that they actually took an interest in every child in the school and would have staff meetings to discuss how a kid was doing.
One of the first things that came to my attention about how Bad his education at Malibu High was the day I got a call from the Math department. Seems the advanced Math that was taught to him in Malibu simply did not prepare him for the math class he was placed in. I told the school that I would not allow Matt to be punished and put back into a lower math class for the inadequacies of his former school The math teacher there who had a Phd. From Stanford tutored him for six months and he was now up to speed in the class. I didn't have to pay for her services, that's how concerned they were about his progress.
Matt's Japanese teacher also really took to him. She was so blown away with the fact that he came into her class with no formal training and understood the language and could speak it. At first he didn't want to let her know just how much he understood without her help. He was a little bit shy about it, but she did encourage him and even entered him in the Japanese contest up North which he placed in the top three. The only Caucasian to do so. She submitted him for the rotary club's exchange program and he was chosen. He got to go to Japan for six weeks and live with a family there. It was a remarkable year for us all.
Bob and I were so proud of him and not even our drama could interfere with all Matt's accomplishments. At the end of his first year of school Matt was given several awards which were a very big deal at this school.
The Love of Learning Award
The Japanese Language Award etc.
With all these accolades there was another bit of drama that was going on in the background for me that year. I had never been involved in a private school before. Matt had only gone to public schools where the parents, especially in Malibu were really cool. After all, there are plenty of celebrities and wealthy people all around town, I wasn't impressed by the Silicon Valley money nor the uptight attitude of some of the parents. Boy was I ever in for a surprise.
Far cry from our home in Malibu. We planted ourselves in the middle of a tract house section of the Peninsula side of the City.
Matt of course had left all his friends behind and didn't really fit into the prep school attitude, which turned out to be one of the best things for him.
First thing he told me was that there was no way in hell that he was going to cut his hair, wear khaki pants and brown shoes to school. I didn't care, I just wanted him to be himself. So off he would go with his black leather jackets and his shades on everyday.
On the weekends I made an effort to go up to the city every weekend. We would find ourselves in Japan town having dinner, buying Japanese videos, going to the movies and sometimes going to JapanBowl and bowling. It's gone now, but it was really cool.
I just immersed him in his passion for all things Japanese he did love that part of it.
He was starting to be noticed in school by his peers for being really cool and different. He just has that very cool vibe to him.
He became friends with this amazing upperclassman student in his Japanese Class. Nicole would have a very lasting effect on him. She was the first person to actually recognize his humor and encouraged him to try out for Drama. It's a good thing he was so smitten with her because that was the beginning of him actually finding his passion.
One day Matt came home and asked me to cut his hair short, I was pretty surprised by his request. I asked him how short and he said "really short". I found out later that Nicole, who had this beautiful long red hair halfway down her back had cut it all off. He would follow suit. She inspired him it seems. They became friends, but in high school the age difference is too great for a freshman to date an upperclassman and that is all it would ever be.
His school was so different from Malibu, There was a lot going on socially there because it wasn't isolated like he was used to and little by little he started doing stuff with some of his friends. He also started to take Kendo, a martial art that he was always interested in. I will never forget the first class he attended. The instructor had them do over one hundred strokes with their "shenei swords" Made out of bamboo, it was long and not too heavy, but after all those strokes, he couldn't move his arm for a week. He loved it and stuck it out for a year.
He didn't forget his best friend from Malibu and invited her to go to the Prom with him even. I knew he missed our house but he did seem to be thriving more than he ever did in Malibu. He was no longer isolated at home in front of his computer screen.
The thing that impressed me most about this school was the fact that they actually took an interest in every child in the school and would have staff meetings to discuss how a kid was doing.
One of the first things that came to my attention about how Bad his education at Malibu High was the day I got a call from the Math department. Seems the advanced Math that was taught to him in Malibu simply did not prepare him for the math class he was placed in. I told the school that I would not allow Matt to be punished and put back into a lower math class for the inadequacies of his former school The math teacher there who had a Phd. From Stanford tutored him for six months and he was now up to speed in the class. I didn't have to pay for her services, that's how concerned they were about his progress.
Matt's Japanese teacher also really took to him. She was so blown away with the fact that he came into her class with no formal training and understood the language and could speak it. At first he didn't want to let her know just how much he understood without her help. He was a little bit shy about it, but she did encourage him and even entered him in the Japanese contest up North which he placed in the top three. The only Caucasian to do so. She submitted him for the rotary club's exchange program and he was chosen. He got to go to Japan for six weeks and live with a family there. It was a remarkable year for us all.
Bob and I were so proud of him and not even our drama could interfere with all Matt's accomplishments. At the end of his first year of school Matt was given several awards which were a very big deal at this school.
The Love of Learning Award
The Japanese Language Award etc.
With all these accolades there was another bit of drama that was going on in the background for me that year. I had never been involved in a private school before. Matt had only gone to public schools where the parents, especially in Malibu were really cool. After all, there are plenty of celebrities and wealthy people all around town, I wasn't impressed by the Silicon Valley money nor the uptight attitude of some of the parents. Boy was I ever in for a surprise.
The Passage of Time
As I re-read my posts even I have to admit there is so much repetitive stuff in it I get confused as to when the events took place and how we managed to survive them.
To make things clear, I was again in the middle of a five year cycle of drinking, getting sober, rehabs and sporadic episodes of drug induced anger and temporary insanity on my part.
I was simply going crazy living in the eye of Bob's storm. I desperately wanted an escape from the madness of our daily lives since Bob's relapse. The only relief any of us had was the fact that Matt and I now lived apart from Bob and that was a really good thing because Matt could have never excelled in school if Bob was living with us full time. He just needed too much attention and the focus was always on him and his issues. But it was not possible for me to be there for him like that any longer. I made a choice when we came back from Paris that I could no longer enable him like before. He was going to have to grow up and I was not going to be his Mom, I was going to put my mothering skills to use where they needed to be, on our son.
Even when he did come to stay it always ended up the same, he just couldn't be there because his demons were just too great during those years. He needed to be alone and do whatever it was his alcoholism was driving him to do. It was better not to know first hand what he was up too, the only clues I had were on the Credit Card bills. It really was a terrible time in my life.
The funny thing is that even during those four years apart, I never really felt apart from him until the end. I always felt he would get through it and stay sober like the first time.
It certainly was wishful thinking on my part, but the bottom line was that there really wasn't much I could do, I had to stay focused on being a stable Mom for our son. He needed me to be there for him, not spend all my time worrying about what Bob was up to.
It wasn't easy for any of us but what choice did we have. At a certain point in ones life you have to make choices and I need to provide our son with a stable home life, it was what he needed and deserved.
It was amazing how well we did seem to get along without Bob there. There was no chaos or arguing about anything. In the past there was so much tension in the house whether it was because Matt was up too late or actually anything that Bob wanted to focus on besides wanting a pill or a drink.
I do have to say we tried going to AA meetings up North, but even I had to admit that Bob was just not ever going to fit in with that crowd. There is just way to much differences in our lifestyle in Southern California and Northern California.
Bob found himself in a world that was foreign to him. Guys in those meetings were working 9-5 jobs and Bob didn't work.
In Malibu it seemed none of the people in the meetings had normal working hours. LA is so different. Bob was a fish out of water I have to admit.
I have so many different opinions about AA myself, sometimes it is more important to just have someone you can relate to instead of an entire room where you feel uncomfortable. Besides quite frankly AA didn't work for him, his GF in the end or Henry, who you will hear about later.
The years were passing by for Matt's high school experience up North and he was for the first time coming into his own.
I was so proud of his achievements.
He became a star up there literally on stage and in the Japanese classroom.
I knew that we had made the right choice for his life. Bob probably would be doing the same thing wherever he was.
Matt was thriving, that was the most important thing to me.
To make things clear, I was again in the middle of a five year cycle of drinking, getting sober, rehabs and sporadic episodes of drug induced anger and temporary insanity on my part.
I was simply going crazy living in the eye of Bob's storm. I desperately wanted an escape from the madness of our daily lives since Bob's relapse. The only relief any of us had was the fact that Matt and I now lived apart from Bob and that was a really good thing because Matt could have never excelled in school if Bob was living with us full time. He just needed too much attention and the focus was always on him and his issues. But it was not possible for me to be there for him like that any longer. I made a choice when we came back from Paris that I could no longer enable him like before. He was going to have to grow up and I was not going to be his Mom, I was going to put my mothering skills to use where they needed to be, on our son.
Even when he did come to stay it always ended up the same, he just couldn't be there because his demons were just too great during those years. He needed to be alone and do whatever it was his alcoholism was driving him to do. It was better not to know first hand what he was up too, the only clues I had were on the Credit Card bills. It really was a terrible time in my life.
The funny thing is that even during those four years apart, I never really felt apart from him until the end. I always felt he would get through it and stay sober like the first time.
It certainly was wishful thinking on my part, but the bottom line was that there really wasn't much I could do, I had to stay focused on being a stable Mom for our son. He needed me to be there for him, not spend all my time worrying about what Bob was up to.
It wasn't easy for any of us but what choice did we have. At a certain point in ones life you have to make choices and I need to provide our son with a stable home life, it was what he needed and deserved.
It was amazing how well we did seem to get along without Bob there. There was no chaos or arguing about anything. In the past there was so much tension in the house whether it was because Matt was up too late or actually anything that Bob wanted to focus on besides wanting a pill or a drink.
I do have to say we tried going to AA meetings up North, but even I had to admit that Bob was just not ever going to fit in with that crowd. There is just way to much differences in our lifestyle in Southern California and Northern California.
Bob found himself in a world that was foreign to him. Guys in those meetings were working 9-5 jobs and Bob didn't work.
In Malibu it seemed none of the people in the meetings had normal working hours. LA is so different. Bob was a fish out of water I have to admit.
I have so many different opinions about AA myself, sometimes it is more important to just have someone you can relate to instead of an entire room where you feel uncomfortable. Besides quite frankly AA didn't work for him, his GF in the end or Henry, who you will hear about later.
The years were passing by for Matt's high school experience up North and he was for the first time coming into his own.
I was so proud of his achievements.
He became a star up there literally on stage and in the Japanese classroom.
I knew that we had made the right choice for his life. Bob probably would be doing the same thing wherever he was.
Matt was thriving, that was the most important thing to me.
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