Month: August 2020

I found myself in a position I never imagined I would be in, that of a single parent.  I had never wanted anything more than to be a mother and a wife and have a family of my own. The very thing that was most important to me had been taken away and the children I spent my life serving, loving and cherishing had been harmed by the person that we should have been able to trust the very most.  I worried that my children’s eternal happiness was at stake.  How would the abuse and the loss of a father change them?  Would they grow up happy and emotionally healthy?  Would they ever be able to trust others? 

The reality of being a single parent began to sink in.  I was alone, left to raise my children by myself.  I now carried the full responsibility of being mother and father to my children.  There were challenges one would expect from the situation of single parenthood.  Single parents are trying to “do it all”- to make a living, cook, clean, wash, care for and nurture.  It was physically and mentally challenging  to juggle schedules, working outside the home while caring for the children, take care of the bills, keep up a home and yard, etc., etc. etc.  All of these were huge tasks, each having their own level of difficulty when trying to do it alone.  It was so overwhelming! Yet I was blessed to have supportive parents and family, without whom I’m sure I would not have survived.  My parents helped me so much.  My father would help me with yard work and car repairs, my mother with caring for the children when I needed a sitter and other things too numerous to mention.  They were supportive beyond measure.  At the end of the day the fact still remained that I was the only parent left for my children.

In the beginning of a life changing event, no one knows exactly what will happen or how they will feel later on.  My heart ached for what had been lost, a husband for me, a father for my children, the nucleus of what a family looked like in my mind.  I could not consider Phil a father to my children any longer, because he would not be there for them or for me ever again.  Not as a protector, a provider, a teacher, a partner and more importantly as the father of our family.  Phil was actually someone we needed protection from.  He would not be there to love us, but then I’m not sure he had ever known how to really love. 

There would be many rough days ahead and nights of sadness, feeling so alone.  This new kind of loneliness was interesting to me.  I realized that I had often been lonely being married to Phil.  There were fleeting moments where I felt that he and I were truly partners in our marriage, but I began to recognize that he had been rather aloof with me and the children.  Prior to the truth coming forward, for a couple of years he had avoided making real heart felt connections with any of us most of the time.  He would joke around and laugh things off, but the real depth of a true, sincere relationship was not there. The link from father to children and husband to wife hadn’t been a full bond between him and the rest of us.  I realized that he had been distancing himself from all of us for quite a long time. 

It was emotionally painful for me to see other families that were “complete” in my eyes.  I wanted a companion that wanted to be with me, share our lives and grow old together.  I wanted someone to enjoy raising the children as we watched them grow up and feel delight together in their lives.  I needed and longed for help and support with the duties and responsibilities of raising a family.  There were many years ahead, yearning for companionship and real love. 

Due to this turn of events, I had to accept that as a mother I wouldn’t be able to do the kinds of things I had dreamed about.  There was much pain associated with the fact that I wasn’t able to fully choose what I wanted to do as a mom.  My desire to be involved in my children’s schools, to serve in the PTA, to volunteer in the classroom and school activities to support my children could not and would not happen.  I had always wanted to go on field trips, plan class holiday parties and be at home when my children came home from school.  I wanted to give them undivided attention when they got home from school and help them with homework, take them to lessons and be there to talk about their day.  I did help them with homework and there were some lessons, but I was not able to be fully available to them as I had dreamed.  And there were many late nights of washing clothes, cleaning and keeping up just to continue on the next day.  It was never my desire to work outside the home. 

Just because I never wanted to have a job and work outside the home, my intent is not to make judgments here or negative statements about working moms, single or married.  I know they do double duty and their plates are so full!  Some mothers work because they have to, and some work because they want to.  That is a very personal decision that is made by families for many different reasons.  I respect their choices for them and their families.  Had grown up with a “stay at home” mom, and it had been my dream to do the same.  Sometimes dreams have to change.  We learn and grow from changing our dreams.

Sometimes religious leaders don’t exactly know how to relate to or deal with single mothers.  I don’t blame anyone for this, I think it’s just that they aren’t sure how to talk to a woman who has total responsibility for her family and does not have a spouse.  It may be equally as hard for single fathers, but I can’t speak for that.   Most of my leaders were very supportive.  Others didn’t know what to say to me.  It was not my intention to ever be in this position, but it had been forced upon me.  I found that while other families received important communications about various things going on in the neighborhood or in the congregation, I was unaware of things that would have been important for me to have known. 

I fully support and sustain the family unit as I believe God intended it to be.  I believe mothers and fathers should lead a family together.  Both parents have a vital role to play in the support, love and nurturing of a child.  I wanted that full family unit for myself.  I know things have changed in the last 30 years and single parents are widely accepted now, but at the time it was hard to be single in a church where most people are married.  There were times that church members didn’t know what to say to me or how to interact with me.  Some were welcoming, others were distant.  (What do you say to someone who has just found out their husband is a liar, cheat and pedophile?)  Somehow it is easier to show compassion and relate to a person that has lost a loved one to a death.  But I had lost a loved one to sin, to indescribable evil and wickedness.  He was still alive, but his soul had been sold to Satan and he wasn’t coming back.  Not back to me as a husband, not to his children as a father, not to his parents as a present son or any of his siblings as a beloved brother.  I did not fit the mold of what a regular family looked like.  And then I had to deal with the stigma of an ex-husband that had gone to prison.  People just didn’t know what to say to me, so most of the time they said nothing.  I don’t blame them, because I know they were uncomfortable with the situation.  But if I could give one word of advice to people, Christians or not, about how to interact with people that are going through a hard time, I would ask them to please just reach out and let those people know that you care.  That’s all… just simply let them know that you’re thinking about them, hoping the best for them and that you do care about them.  That kindness would go a long way when someone feels that they no longer “fit in”. 

I had to shed the insecurities of not fitting in, because the more I perceived that I didn’t fit in, the more it became my reality.  I felt like I didn’t fit in for so long and I guess in a way I didn’t.  But then the thought came…what is our idea of “fitting in”?  Fitting into what?  We want to be welcomed and have friends, connect with others.  But I found I was happier by just being myself, by trying to be the person that God created me to be.  I don’t think I am the only one who has had this problem – many people feel insecure about who they are for various reasons.  Trying to fit into someone’s mold of who we “should” be is exhausting and unproductive.  Trying to fit into the world’s ideas of what makes a “real woman” is off the mark of what God would want for us. We don’t need to try and be like someone else or look like someone else, thinking that will make us more acceptable.  I found that God loved me for who I was – Sophia Lance was good enough for him!  If I was acceptable to Heavenly Father then it didn’t matter if I was acceptable to anyone else.  My caution to others is this:  don’t be taken in by what the world thinks you should be, especially when you’re going through trials.  You will feel like a misfit, maybe unworthy or unloved – Satan will make sure of that.  Don’t take anyone else’s opinion of you or assume that people are thinking bad things about you (though in their lack of understanding they might be thinking ill of you).  Turn to God and ask Him if He loves you.  The answer will astound and comfort you.  You will find that God loves YOU.  Be grateful for the child of God that you are!  He doesn’t want us to be something that we aren’t.  He wants us to be His child and He wants us to be the best person we can be, no matter what our circumstance.  The “best person we can be” will change from time to time as we progress and grow each day, learning, improving, making mistakes and then trying again.  We don’t have to be perfect in order for God to love us.  He loves us unconditionally. 

If we think of the important people in history that made a difference in the world (I’m not talking about movie stars, political figures or famous athletes), the people that made discoveries or advances in civilization that changed our lives, they were often people that “didn’t fit in” the mainstream.  They were inventive, creative and didn’t always follow “the norm”.  They used their God given gifts and talents to bless the world but were often thought of as misfits. 

As a single parent, I also discovered that I had to look for ways to be included.  I had to reach out and join in, even if it felt awkward sometimes.  Many  times I would become offended by something that someone said, and I would take things personally that weren’t really directed at me.  In my pain, I was a bit too sensitive, and I had to stop myself and look for the upside of things in people’s comments and in uncomfortable situations.  I had to let the Lord inspire me about how I could feel comfortable.  In prayer I would ask that He would help me to feel at peace in areas where I was uneasy. 

I also learned another valuable lesson – not to judge others.  As I looked around at friends and church members, even people outside my circle, I knew they really didn’t know what I had been through.  I couldn’t expect them to.  If they had no true idea of what I had been through, how could I look around and judge others, not knowing their life experiences and what their trials were?  I knew that I did not want to be judged for what was happening to me and my children, so I determined that I would not judge.  I would have compassion for others rather than waste my time thinking ill of them or blaming them for their behaviors.  I learned that the Lord truly is my Shepherd and His presence in my life will fill me enough. 

In the days of my life before the beginning of this trial, I would never have considered getting a divorce as a part of my life.  That was unthinkable, not a choice I would ever make.  If my marriage came on hard times, we would do what it took towork it out.  I took this marriage seriously, and I treasured my husband and family.  But then again, this situation was a little more serious than the regular description of “hard times”, and I had a decision to make. 

Though my husband had certainly broken his marriage covenants to me and the promise he made to be a good and loving father, I was concerned about breaking my marriage covenants.  Some might say that divorce was just “a given” in this case and I had every reason to leave the marriage behind.  It should be over and done.  For everyone else it would be a “no questions asked” situation and it would have been fine and acceptable for me to get a divorce. In fact I should do it NOW, quickly, and get it done as soon as possible.  But I wanted my answer to come from the Lord.  I knew that if my answer was from the Lord, I would never have to wonder if I had done the right thing or question my decision.  Though Phil had tried to convince me that everything would be OK and our little family would be fine in  years to come, I knew that was a lie.  I wasn’t clueless about the serious nature of what Phil had done and it wasn’t as though I thought that we could start over, or even that I wanted to start over with him and keep my family in tact as I knew it.  I had dismissed his efforts to manipulate me into believing him about anything any longer.  But I needed the answer to be mine, so I prayed earnestly to know whether or not I should divorce Phil.  Looking back, it seems absurd to me that I just didn’t make a decision about the marriage outright as the answer is so obvious to me now.  Yet at that time my choice to include God in my life regarding this decision proved to be a catalyst for my relationship with God in the future, a relationship that I needed and treasure every day.

The answer to my prayer came to me more powerfully than any other answer to prayer in my life.  I knew I must divorce Phil.  The answer was a relief and I could end this relationship that had never been what I thought it had been.  God knew about Phil’s depraved choices, and He wanted me and my children away from Phil permanently.  I can’t imagine how depressing my life would have been if I had remained married to Phil – the worry, the fear, the creepy feelings would have always remained.  I never could have trusted Phil again, and I loved my children too much to ever put them at risk again.  It makes me sick to think of it.   

There were new realities I must face.  Though divorcing was the right choice, there were also new fears and unknowns I would have to accept and work through.  There were concerns about my financial security – that was one fear, yet financial security was going to be gone anyway because it seemed inevitable that Phil would be going to prison.  Financial worries could never be a consideration to hold me in the relationship.  The fear of being alone would be my reality whether I stayed in the relationship or whether I left.  He would be gone for a long time.  The fear of not having a father for my children was sad to me, but he was not and could never be the kind of father I wanted for my children.  The fear of being looked at in a different way…being a single, divorced mom and wondering how I would fit into the world, my community and church congregation.  Single parenthood was not as common then as it is now, so I would be in the minority in my community.  Maybe that shouldn’t have felt uncomfortable, but it was.  The fear of not having someone to love me and my children – this was the most painful of all, but I began to understand that pedophiles don’t have the same kind of feelings of love that other members of the human race have.  They are consumed by their need to control and have control over another human being.  Real love as I know love isn’t a part of their actions or what they feel, so my fear of not being loved was already my reality. 

I began to understand more about Phil’s psyche.  He liked making friends and being accepted, but his capacity to care and feel love were impaired by his inner monsters.   He was good at acting as if he was an honorable part of the community, but I doubt he ever understood what real love is.  His perceptions of love were definitely marred by immoral thoughts and eventually actions.  I think he had visions of grandeur and started picturing himself as someone who could do whatever he pleased without any penalty or repercussions.  He thought people would love him and admire him, and he could get away with whatever behavior he chose.  He would never be caught because he was too clever.  The counseling I received helped me to understand that Phil unfortunately fit in the category of narcissism, one who thinks more of himself than others.  The dictionary describes narcissism as “inordinate fascination with oneself; excessive self-love.”  He was now classified as a pedophile, that was a stark truth to deal with.  He knew he had a weakness and had a sexually deviant nature toward children, and he was trying to make sure that his life looked as normal as possible, and looked good in the eyes of others.  I believe that marrying me was for convenience and to make a show of normalcy.  Having children would further that deception.  Love didn’t enter into the equation. 

Divorce is difficult under any circumstance.  After my divorce was final, I thought I would have the desire to encourage others to do the same, to leave their bad marriages behind for whatever reason.  But I didn’t feel that way at all.  I found myself wishing that couples could work out their differences and be happily married.  The truth is that sometimes that just doesn’t work, and divorce must happen in order for people to begin again.  I believe that God wants us to give our marriages the best we have.  If things happen and the marriage ends, I think God wants us to pick ourselves up and find happiness and blessings wherever we can.  It takes courage to end a life’s dream and create a new one.  It takes faith to look up and see hope beyond the obstacles of our “nows”.

It was the darkest time of my life.  For the first time I was personally experiencing what evil really was and what it does to destroy lives.  When someone brings darkness into your life it’s so hard to see the light that is waiting to help you. 

In my mind, sexual abuse had always been one of the worst things that could happen to a person.  I don’t know why I thought it would be the worst thing over a myriad of many awful things that could happen in a person’s life.  I had never experienced abuse in my childhood.  I had been raised in a home where things like this did not happen.  Like all families, mine was not perfect, but my parents loved each other and they loved their children.  They were good people who were active in the community and strong in their church, committed to living the gospel of Jesus Christ.  I was taught right from wrong and was encouraged to live a good life, to be honest and kind to others and have compassion for everyone.  I was taught to be respectful and to love my family and other people.  It was a happy home filled with love.  It was not an abusive home, and I had no comprehension of such behavior and how such a dark thing would feel. 

There hadn’t been much talk in the media about sexual abuse up to this point, but there is no doubt that it been a serious problem for hundreds of years.  Though it had been going on for a very long time, I think no one had dared address the problem publicly.  But the subject of child sexual abuse was slowly beginning to emerge in television and in the media. People were beginning to open up and discuss their experiences and the devastating affects it had on their lives.  It still wasn’t in the mainstream, but it was in the beginning stages of awareness.  I don’t know why abuse had been in my thoughts, other than I think I was being prepared to deal with it. 

One night a few weeks before my “hell day”, Phil had been working late.  After getting the children in bed, I was tired and sat down to watch some T.V., not a common activity for me with two little children to take care of.  When Phil arrived home, I had been watching a detective show.  The subject of the show was about child sex abuse.  In the story line the detectives were trying to solve the case, and find out who was responsible for sexually abusing a child.  This subject matter made me feel so uncomfortable and was very troubling to me, but for some odd reason it was riveting to watch this story unfold.  Phil’s arrival came at the very end of the show.  He walked in the door, saw that I was upset and asked me if I had been crying to which I replied, “Yes”.  I explained to him what the show had been about and that I was crying because it was so upsetting to me.  I was sitting on the couch as I explained my feelings and he remained standing.  When I finished telling him about it, he just stood there staring at me for a minute, didn’t say a word and walked out of the room.  I had an odd feeling about his lack of response to me, but I couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t say anything.   I didn’t realize it then, but Phil was guilty of doing the same thing I was watching on TV, and he was already past feeling any emotions that would admit that what he was doing to children was wrong.

Time after time I have asked myself, “why didn’t I see this coming?”  I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t seen the signs of his dis-function or of the abuse.  Now they are glaringly obvious to me, but they hadn’t been apparent to me before.  I wanted to know what was wrong with me and why I hadn’t seen the signs that would have caused more suspicion, so one day in a counseling session I asked my psychologist to give me a “personality test”.  I wanted to understand the flaw in myself that allowed me to be so stupid about it all.  He said that it really wasn’t necessary, but I insisted on it, so he administered a test.  At my following counseling session I asked Mark, “OK – tell me what the test said.  Tell me what is wrong with me.”  He smiled kindly and said, “Sophia, nothing is wrong with you.  The test showed nothing.”  We talked further and concluded that I wouldn’t have known about what was going on because I was naïve to the signs of sexual abuse.  It was unfamiliar territory to me.  I also had to realize that Phil was a master of manipulation and deceit.  He knew how to cover his indiscretions.  My counselor told me that he had met and worked with other pedophiles and criminals who had done horrendous crimes, and it was his opinion that Phil was one of the most manipulative people he had come in contact with.  In a way that made me feel better that I had been duped, but it also made me feel worse. 

There were signs of Phil’s problems that I didn’t recognize, and at first I blamed myself for them.  I often felt rejected by Phil.  At times he made me feel that I was not lovable, unattractive and just plain unworthy of being loved.  I thought that if I had been just a bit prettier, a bit smarter, more of what he needed me to be then he wouldn’t have done this appalling thing.  I know now that this train of thought was wrong, but for a while it was very real to me.  I took personal responsibility and blamed myself for something that wasn’t my fault even though I honestly had no idea what behaviors Phil was participating in.  Through the years I still occasionally blamed myself for what happened.  I didn’t blame myself because I had known that Phil was abusing or what was going on, and I never would have approved of or encouraged his abusive behavior.  But I blamed myself because I made the decision to marry Phil in the first place.  If I hadn’t married him, none of this would have happened.  Children close to me wouldn’t have been hurt, people’s lives wouldn’t have been damaged if I just hadn’t married him, so I blamed myself.  I was experiencing my worst fear and I blamed myself that it came into my life.  But I also know that the adversary had a part in what I felt.  Satan continued to try and make me doubt myself no matter what course of action I took.  He would love it if I would continually blame myself and focus on it being my fault rather than where the blame really belonged – on Phil and his choices. 

The Lord has comforted me and reminded me that though I have not been perfect in my life, my desire has always been to follow the Lord.  I am trying to live the kind of life that God would want me to live.  After some time of healing, I know that none of this was my fault, but at times it felt that way.

It was necessary for Phil to move out of our home.   He would stay with his parents for a time while charges were filed against him and court proceedings took place.  But on the day he had been found he went to sleep at our home that night.  The next day he’d gather his things and make the move final.  Even though I was staying at my parents’ home, I went to see him that evening to talk with him before he moved out.  Restrictions were that he would not be allowed around the children, so I left them with my parents’ while I went to talk with Phil.  As we spoke, the conversation was strained.  I wanted him to tell me about the problems he was experiencing and I needed some explanation as to why he would do these things.  Our conversation did not satisfy my need to understand.  He told me that he’d had this problem for a long time and hadn’t acted upon it for years, but he couldn’t stop himself any longer and had given in to his desires.  I reflected back to one night several months before when Phil was having a bad dream.  He had cried out in his sleep in a fit of terror.  I shook him to make him wake up and asked why he was screaming and thrashing around.  He told me a huge bear had been chasing him in his dream and the bear attacked as he was trying to get away from it.  As our conversation continued, I felt certain that dream and the huge bear were a manifestation of his addiction to sexual perversions, and it was chasing him now.  I don’t think he wanted to have this challenge, but for some unknown reason it was his.  By giving into it and acting out his sick fantasies, he had sealed his own fate.  Instead of getting professional help to combat the beast inside him, he had surrendered to it and now it had become his downfall. 

During our conversation I felt weak and sick inside.  I left the room for a few minutes, and on my way back down the hall I collapsed, due to the stress of the situation.  The whole subject felt so oppressive and heavy to me and I just couldn’t hold myself up any longer.  As I laid there on the floor I was in a sort of daze and I called out to Phil for help, but he could not hear me – I think he didn’t want to hear me.  He was so self-absorbed in his own fears and pain.  He seemed to have no regard for mine. 

Our ecclesiastical leader came to the house that same night.  He offered comforting words and kindness as he spoke with Phil and I.  His visit was interesting, and I learned something that night I had not expected to learn.  This kind man said a powerful prayer.  He prayed for me, for the children and for Phil.  During that prayer there was an overwhelming feeling of love in the room.  I felt Heavenly Father’s love for me, but I also felt an almost palpable feeling of the Saviors’ love for Phil, too.  I was a bit surprised at this idea.  But I knew at that moment that in spite of what Phil had done, the Lord loved him.  Through all the pain that followed as the weeks and years went on, I would never be able to deny the love that I knew the Lord had for Phil because of what I had felt. 

I learned a powerful lesson that night – Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love everyone on this earth.  I had always believed that, but living with this new-found loathing for what Phil had done, it was hard for me to believe that people committing crimes against others could still be loved by Heavenly Father.  I’d never had to face this idea so personally, and I was shocked that I could accept this truth now.  Every human being is a child of Heavenly Father – He is our loving Father who loves us unconditionally.  And our dear brother Jesus atoned and suffered for each of us, no matter what we have done. They sincerely and deeply love every man, woman and child on this earth.  I may not have been able to love Phil any longer, but God could.

This was the last night that I would see Phil for a very long time.

My dear minister continued to be a friend, a mentor and a teacher to me and my children for many years to come.  He often gave me wise counsel.  He blessed my life in many ways and gave me hope for the future – I felt his love and support for my family at this time of great need, and as my children continued to grow.  He would bless our lives in numerous ways for over 25 years.  I will always love this dear man for his compassion.

As the days went on I started thinking about how life might be now and how it had changed.  I began to worry about the embarrassment this would cause, and the embarrassment for my children that would certainly follow.   Did everyone know?  What did people know?  Could I go to church and hold my head up?  How would my children be treated by others?  What were people saying about me?  Some rumors of what had been said among the neighborhood got back to me.  Some people had assumed that I had been the victim of physical abuse, which made me angry.  If the abuse had been that blatant, I wouldn’t have stayed in the relationship – didn’t they know that?  I knew people were talking, and I didn’t like being the subject of discussion, especially that kind of discussion.

For several weeks I stayed in the warmth and comfort of my parents’ home.  I made an appointment to see the counselor my sister had summoned, Mark Rogers.  He would prove to be a source of healing and comfort for me and my family members.  

I didn’t see many friends during this time as it was too painful to be out among others as they lived their regular lives – mine was anything but regular now.  One day a friend of mine showed up at my parent’s door.  She said she hadn’t seen me lately and had a feeling she should come and see if I was OK.  I think that she had probably heard something about what had happened.  She asked if I would go for a ride with her, so we rode and talked.  After a while we parked the car and continued our conversation.  She never really asked me what had happened, she just let me talk.  In a way I was relieved that someone was interested in my welfare, with no judgment on her part.   I opened up and told her what had happened, and she just sat and listened to me.  I know I cried, and she cried with me.  I don’t remember all that was said, but I do remember telling her that I couldn’t believe that I was still alive.  I didn’t know a person could experience so much emotional pain and still be physically living.  But I did know that after feeling the pain I had felt, I received a profound change in my appreciation for what our Savior, what my Savior had suffered for all of us while in Gethsemane.  My pains at this time felt immense, and I knew that Christ had felt my pains from this experience in addition to the pains of everyone that has ever lived on this earth as He prayed in that garden.  If my pains were only a small, minute portion of what He felt as He bled from every pore, then I knew His suffering was beyond anything that I had the ability to understand.  My love and devotion to Christ had grown exponentially.  This was a personal and real understanding of what the Atonement truly meant, for all of us personally.  I was connected to Christ in a way that I had never been connected before.  My reverence and devotion for Jesus Christ from that point on was unwavering. Through tears I expressed to my friend my amazement for Christ’s sufferings. 

A few weeks later my friend and her husband, along with my sweet minister came to my home and pronounced a blessing upon it.  As the four of us knelt in a circle in the middle of my living room, they blessed my family and my home, dedicating it to the Lord and asking that the dark spirits that followed the adversary leave my home.  Through his behavior, Phil had invited many dark spirits into our home.  Now their darkness was being commanded to leave.  In the future those dark spirits would try to sneak back in where they had taken residence before, and I would pray them away many times and invite the light of Christ to take their place. 

I talked to Phil just a few times over the next few months.   In the note he had left for me on that first and terrible day, he said that there would be hard times ahead, that our family could work through this and we would still be a family.  I think Phil honestly believed that I could welcome him back into our lives with open arms.  As we spoke he counseled me about our finances, my finances now, and where I should spend the money he had saved.  This became laughable to me.  I was going to be a single parent and every bit of any money that had been saved would go to keep my children and I afloat.  There would be no more saving for a long time, no frivolous spending.  I would learn to be more frugal and I would have to get a job working outside the home to make ends meet.  His words felt empty to me and I was becoming more distanced from this man I really did not know. 

I didn’t know yet, but the road ahead would be long.

The days that followed my “hell day” were difficult.  Though the sun came up in the sky each morning, the sun was not shining in my heart.  Each day felt like an endless night, dark and heavy with the light of the day far beyond my reach.   

There were so many questions that went around and around in my head.  What would happen to my children?  How would this change them?  What abusive things had they seen and experienced?  Would they ever have happiness and joy in life?  What was I going to do now?  How was I going to manage life?  How was I going to juggle the normal expenses?  I hadn’t been working outside of the home for a while.  I had done some odd jobs from home and we had saved for a down payment on a house, purchasing a small home in a great neighborhood.  Would I be able to stay in our home?  Where would I get money to pay the bills?  If I worked, how could I care for my children?  I had always wanted to be a stay at home mom, but I knew that wasn’t going to be possible.  I had gone to college, but never finished my degree.  How would I make a living?  More importantly, what were my sweet children left with?  I knew that counseling would be necessary to help them work through the things that had been acted upon them.  Their small souls were not meant to experience such awful things at the hands of their own father.  What would that do to them?  

During the first days, Phil was not in custody because he had “turned himself in” after being caught, so he was allowed to be out “on his own recognizance”.  By the second day he had not contacted anyone.  There were no cell phones then, I had no way to make contact with someone that just seemed to have disappeared.  His parents didn’t know where he was, no one had seen him and I’m sure his parents were starting to worry.  I wanted to find him, to talk to him and ask him many questions.   Obviously his life had just changed forever as well, and the reality of the devastation he caused had not fully sunk in.  So I was curious where he had gone and was concerned that he was all right. 

I was eager to put my world right again.  Deciding that I needed to do something about all this mess we were in, I went against my parents’ recommendation and went to my home for a while.  I pulled the bills together, personal records and made a temporary plan to take care of things.  Phil had an office away from our home where he worked.  In my concern for him, I decided to drive to his office and see if he was there.  His car was parked in front of the office when I arrived.  I thought that was a good sign and I was sure he was there.  I parked and went to the door, my stomach churning.  I knocked, but there was no answer.  I waited and knocked again, still no answer.  I bent over to look in the mail drop to see if I could see him inside, hoping to find him asleep.  My view was limited through the small space, but I couldn’t see any indication that he was there.  I called out to him through the door and still no answer.  I started to panic.  What if he was in there, dead?  What if he had become so depressed and despondent that he had taken his own life?  The panic in my heart escalated.  Not knowing what to do, I got back into my car and decided to drive to a family member’s home that was close by.  I’m not sure how I stayed focused enough to drive.  When I got to the home, I walked to the front door and knocked.  My brother-in-law answered the door and I blurted out that I had gone to Phil’s office, he wasn’t there and I thought he had killed himself.  Then I collapsed in his arms, tears streaming. 

My sister brought me into the house while my brother-in-law exited.  I didn’t realize he was going to Phil’s office to see if he could find him.  He found Phil walking back to his office from a convenience store.  When Phil saw him, Phil tried to run away.  But my brother-in-law chased Phil until he caught up with him and put Phil in his car to bring him to their home.  While this drama was taking place, my sister was calling my parents and a family counselor she was acquainted with.  I was shaking, feeling like I was going into shock again.  After a short time, the man who would become my future counselor showed up at her home.  Mark was kind and would be a wonderful counselor in the year to come, but I wasn’t in any condition to talk to him at this point.  My father also arrived.  My brother-in-law returned and Phil was with him.  I was so relieved to see that Phil was alive, but I also was not blind to the fact that Phil was a different man in my eyes than he was the last time I had seen him.   My father, sister, brother-in-law and Mark spoke quietly together in the kitchen while Phil and I went into another room to talk alone.

We sat there, not knowing what to say.  I felt two conflicting emotions – on the one hand, I was so happy that the man I called my husband was alive.  On the other hand, I didn’t even know who this man was – his actions made him a stranger to me.  I needed to talk to Phil, to understand what had happened.  This was the first time I had seen him since he left me the note two days before.  So much had happened in those two days and there was an emotional distance now between the two of us, wider than before.  We sat in silence for a few moments, Phil was crying and I remember just looking at him in unbelief.  I don’t really remember the conversation that followed, but I do remember that he said he was sorry for what he’d done.  He knew he had made a mess of our lives, and was into his own emotions about the problems he had created.  He was so wrapped up in his self-inflicted pain that he did not even attempt to reach out to me.  I know he was embarrassed, ashamed, all the things he should have been, but he did not include me in this very emotional moment.  No hug, no consoling me – characteristics that I would later learn to be part of his narcissistic personality.  This became a pattern in his behavior in the months to come.  I now realized this had been a pattern between us that he had created a long time ago.   

Phil had the look of a soul racked in eternal torment.  His behavior was depraved and he knew it, but he said he couldn’t stop it.  Phil had given in to the demons and they had taken over.  In my youth I had been taught that if you give in to temptation, then the next time you were tempted with the same thing or something worse, it would be much harder to resist, maybe impossible to resist.  I saw the truth of this in Phil.  This wasn’t the Phil that I thought I knew.  I felt as if I’d never known this man. 

Phil and I had been married for several years.  We were not in the newlywed stage where we didn’t know each other very well.  But from the moment we married, I felt a distance between us. We had been friends at first, and then things had switched quickly and become a courtship.  Phil had never been very warm or intimately emotional with me, and I thought it was just his way.  I could tell at times that he tried to be a good husband to me, but there always seemed to be something standing between us that I couldn’t explain.  I believed that over time in our marriage that we would become closer, but during the months prior to his confession, the distance between us was becoming wider.  He was less engaged when we would communicate and I had believed it was because he was under a lot of stress trying to finish his advanced degree.  He was very intelligent and had easily earned straight A’s all through school.  He was likeable, had friends that considered him a great guy and in college when we met, he had a female following of women who wanted to date him.  He was talented and known in the community.  The man I saw that night was not the man that I thought I knew.  

Over the next few days, life was a blur.  I was falling apart.  The truth was more than I could bear.