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Posts Tagged ‘Glenrock’

As a continuation to my sleeping problem:

 

Sometimes the problem is really bad, like after we took the boys in and I literally did not sleep more than two hours a night for three months. I missed the rest of my grandchildren so much and the fight with my daughter of eleven ran through my mind, over and over and over. You know those; What could I have said? Where did it all go so horribly wrong? Why didn’t I just call out DFS at the time? (Answer to that was, I had no idea how bad it was until I got the boys home and listened to them talking among themselves and about their lives in their mother’s home.)

 

The worse thing that was replaying in my mind was worrying that the children we left behind felt abandoned. It is a restrictive extremist home and abusive. I have written DFS and our school system here has reported it, but I will likely not see my grandchildren again until they are old enough to seek me out. I just hope they are safe. If you live in Glenrock, Wyoming and know, please email me.

 

But, I digress, and that’s the problem with my sleeping too. I digress all night. I found out that listening to books on tape helps. But, not knew books that I have never read, so I am the major person who checks out the Harry Potter, Books on CD, at our library. Hence, the computer light is on all night for my laptop. I have not figure out why I do not have Harry Potter dreams though.

 

I always had problems sleeping, but now, it’s a major problem. On the nights I get to sleep, if anything wakes me up before I am deep in sleep, I cannot go back to sleep, so the voice in my headphones helps to blot sound out too.

 

So when, a few weeks ago, the doctor told youngest boy to take Melatonin. He does not sleep well either, in fact he and Gaffer (oldest boy) never get to sleep before 2 or 3am, even on school nights. They are, obviously, not morning people.

 

The Melatonin worked so well for youngest boy that I decided to try it. Whoww!! Dream/nightmare time. Two nights in a row, I had the same vivid dream.

 

Now, I usually remember my dreams and I dream a lot. I can even remember a few I had repeatedly when I was a kid. When I had measles I had a recurring dream about a human size chocolate chip cookie, which rolled around on the streets. It wasn’t a nightmare. I’m thinking maybe I should go into advertising because it’s a lot like the cookie in the commercial that sings and get’s eaten. I also tend to dream about cake a lot. I mean I taste it in my sleep even. I have a major frosting issue. I go to weddings for the cake.

 

A Melatonin dream, I am finding, is a bloody dream. In the dream, my hands and arms, up to my elbows, are covered with blood: Chrome smelling, thick, sticky blood. I think I was going around looking for the source of the blood, if I remember and not thinking about the Melatonin causing it, I took one the next night and had the exact same dream.

 

I didn’t take Melatonin for a while, after that, and then I took half a pill for a while. My memory being the length of a gnat, I forgot all about the bloody dream. Then, I hadn’t slept for three nights and was getting desperate and actually took two pills one night. 

 

The nightmare came back. This time the blood was on boxes. That’s all I remember at this point. Chrome smell, sticky, thick blood on boxes. 

 

Vivid dreams and nightmares is listed as a side-effect of Melatonin. Blood is not mentioned. You are warned.

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There was a statement on television today that “Even children who have been abused by their mother will miss their mother, when taken away from her.”  I guess it is like the Stockholm Syndrome. 

In the first weeks after the boys moved here, the younger boy really missed home. He emailed his mom three times before she responded with a single sentence; “I love you.”  All the  older boy got was one of the most cold hearted letters I have ever seen. In it, he was blamed for everything under the sun including the fact that his littlest sister now believed that her oldest brother was dead. 

The oldest brother was with us, when we found it necessary to take the next two boys. When the arguing was going on and we were being told that the problem was a simple, “Difference in opinion about child raising.”   he faced her with the fact that she had once told him, when he complained about a particularly brutal beating by the step-father, that she would sit there and watch the step-father beat him to death and not stop him.   And, that was a run-on sentence if I ever saw one.

Prior to that visit, the oldest boy had never said one single word against that mother, even though he had lived with us for several years already.  He had never told us about being locked in a closet or beaten.  He is loyal, to a fault, to his mother.

 Then they received a phone call from their mother and step-father. After the reason for the phone call was settled, sales of the middle boy’s truck,  then the digging started in. They were told how, now that the boys were gone, the family could have fun and go on a trip skiing and another trip to Denver. In the past, the older boy told us, the only thing they could do was go bowling and that was only if he paid for it out of his wages.  I really believe what was going on is that the step-father did not want these “other man’s” children in his home.

I had walked out of the room, during the phone call, and returned to hear the phone slammed down by the younger boy. His step-father told him he sounded like a girl and continued to make digs and say things that a thirteen year old boy really does not want to hear.  His anger has built over his abuse for the past, almost, three years now. When I feel it is interferring in his life, I take him to the Clinical Psychologist.  We have been fortunate to have a local psychologist volunteer his services to our family.

My anger built for a long time too. My anger is for these boys and the sisters left behind.   As I found out more and more of what went on in that home, my heart broke. In some ways literally. I ended up with emergency heart surgery from a spasming artery. 

But, could you raise a child for thirteen and fifteen years and not want to know how they are doing? Wouldn’t you want to keep in contact and make sure they were being cared for? Wouldn’t you want to know what they are doing and hear all the details. Like when the thirteen year old jumped out of a tree and fractured his ankle? Or, just even what it’s like for them to attend public school? Have you made friends? How was your choir concert? What is the church like you go to? 

All they got is: The oldest got a letter saying she hoped they weren’t going to a church that was just “ear candy” and how even though the prodigal son was forgiven and they would take the middle boy back, they might never be able to forgive him. Which is one more letter than the younger boy got.

My mother has been declared off limits also.  Even though she was not with us and had no idea we were coming home with the boys until the night we left, when we called her from the motel.  

My mom is 86 and in bad health. She has been told that her four valve leakage is unrepairable and that she will continue to degenerate until she no longer has the energy to walk.  Every year, at Christmas, she picks out dolls.  “This is what I want to give the girls.”  “Here’s an angel I would like to buy for the baby, Great Granddaughter, I have never seen.”  She is the only grandmother my daughter has known and my daughter even lived in her house for some time.  She is cut off from her great grandchildren, because she is “guilty by association.”

I was raised in the church. We were taught love and tolerance, forgiveness and kindness. This new extremest Christian faith, has nothing to do with the Bible or any religion that I know. It is about hatred and intolerance and child abuse; such as using the rod of correction to drive foolishness out of children. Not quite sure where they got the “lock them in the closet” or “force them to eat till they throw up” but I’m sure they found something in their Bible to justify that.

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