After the Crashing Waves

 

It has been a hot minute since my last post.

Recalling all the details of this is very tiring. Not as exhausting as living it, but it still makes me weary.

As I mentioned, there is everything in my family’s life before January 22, 2022, and now everything after.  Here is how the beginning of the “after” went.

There were an unbelievable number of phone calls I had to make/receive in the first few weeks after it happened. Schools. Doctors. Residential Care Facilities for Adam. Victim Advocacy groups for Honey. A lot of people asking if we were “ok.” I was alive, breathing, and sober- so I was “ok.” I switched something off inside myself and put up an emotional shield. I told several close friends, but not everyone. As I dealt with things, my sisters knew immediately that I was going into “fight” mode- one of them said, “Are you dealing with the emotional side?” I said, “Oh no, not at all. I will process that later.” If I can “do” something, I don’t have to fall apart.

A few key moments in those first days/weeks after:

1-       Adam was safe at a mental health facility for a few days, processing what had happened. While he was gone, I was calling every facility in our state to ask about residential programs for someone like him. Each possible program meant filling out pages upon pages of forms, submitting documentation, and researching. I had twenty piles on my kitchen table to keep it all straight. It hit me that it reminded me of the adoption paperwork I had done 15 years prior to adopt him. Of course, John helped with none of that.

2-       I also had to clean up the huge mess he made in the room he shared with Isaiah. I called in reinforcements. My parents came over to assist and during that time, I got a call from John. My parents were in the room and could hear the whole call. We had to discuss who was going to pick Adam up from the mental health center, and how it would work to keep the kids apart. During the conversation, I said to John, “I want you to know I’m not upset with you for what Adam did. I know how sneaky and dishonest he can be. I am upset with you that you knew and didn’t tell me.” He said, “I know. I had my reasons for not telling you. I realize now they weren’t very good reasons, but I had my reasons. I just hope one day you will forgive me.” I said, “Oh, I will never. I just hope one day your daughter will.” This was a few days- not quite a week- after it happened. He did not deny knowing- in fact, he affirmed and said he had his reasons for not telling me.  My parents have confirmed repeatedly that this is what was said.

3-       Honey had to go through both a Forensic Interview and a Forensic Exam. Luckily, we have great resources for these things in our area. She was interviewed by a law enforcement and counseling team who are specifically trained to take statements from young victims. I was not allowed to be in there and to this day, I have never viewed the video of her interview. When she was done, the detective told us that she had given great detail and was very competent in telling her story. I remember having to fill out a form there that included a line for who the offender was and their relationship. It took everything in me to write the word “brother” on that line. I almost cracked. When it came time for the physical exam, I was even less ok.  I had to ask one of my sisters to meet me and physically walk us into the clinic because I didn’t think my legs would work. Honey had to go through a female exam- I had to hold her on my lap because she was so terrified. The team was fantastic and were so kind and sensitive to her, but still. She should not have had to endure that at age 8.

4-       The other two boys were also kind of a wreck. Honey’s twin, Sammy, became distant. He was much quieter than usual. Finally, one night, he told me he was so angry with Adam. He was also angry that he didn’t know and he couldn’t “keep Adam away from Honey.” These were big feelings for an 8 year-old boy. Isaiah is my emotional child- and this was sending him to very dark places. He worried about me taking the kids “away” from their dad, and if he would ever see Adam again. He was upset for Honey – but he was grappling with the reality that his family would never be the same. 

All of this feels swirly and difficult to detail. Like someone put all these hard experiences in a blender and turned it on. One piece of it is enough to make someone’s world a mess. The whole smoothie together is…I don’t know what. I still feel like I could fall on the floor and weep.

And at the same time, I still lived in the naivete that it would be a straight line to fixing things at this point. Adam would be sent to a facility where he would live and get help- and maybe he would be there till he could live on his own. John would pay the price for his crimes. The three younger kids would stay with me and I would have full-custody to make the right decisions for them. I never intended that they would not see John- just that he would have less access and less say in their lives.

More than anything, I wanted to gather the three of them up in my arms on my big bed, tuck us all in, turn out the lights, close the shades, and disappear to a safe place where no one could ever hurt them again.

Mercifully, we had the next best thing.

My parents had rented a house in Florida for a few months to get through the winter, and I had bought us plane tickets to go down for the kids’ Christmas present- the trip was scheduled for not long after the “event.”  Adam had come home from the initial mental health facility and would stay with John while the four of us flew off into the sunset.

I can barely remember packing and getting there, but I do remember standing on the beach, feeling things I can hardly describe as the three littles played and laughed in the shallow water by the shore.

It was peace and happiness, holding hands with terror and darkness. The resolute feeling that I would pull strength from wherever I needed to to get us through the next little bit, but the emptiness of knowing I had no idea what that would mean. The wish that I could grow wings and use them to fly us all far away. And boiling in the corner of my heart was an unexplainable anger that I put into a large black cauldron, with a large, heavy, black lid that I knew I would remove when it was time- but it was so volatile and powerful that I couldn’t bear to look at it very often or it would explode all over and cover my whole world.

I knew I would need all my anger later.

I should note here that Honey was in great spirits- her nightmare had ended and I had promised her she would never have to be with Adam again if she didn’t want to be.  She was free, at least from the stress of impending abuse around every corner. Her psyche wasn’t near healed, as we would see in coming days, but she was happier than I had ever seen her at that time.

I really thought that the worst was over and now we would just put things back together, better. There was a lot to think about- counseling, healing, plans- but we were breathing in the sea air, clearing our lungs, and I thought the journey home would mean the start of buckling down and getting everything fixed. Friends had loved us, Florida had recharged us, and I was ready to start writing the end of this horrible chapter of our lives.

In some ways, it was going to be much better. But this was merely turning a page, not closing a book.