Experiences Always Have An Effect On Us

At some point in my life story, which I am basically journaling, here in my blog, I will return to writing about my years as a dancer, in the nightclubs, and how that gave me both, the opportunity, and, part--- but not all--- of my motive, for doing prostitution. These other things, that I am blogging about, in recent posts, and in this post, are an important part, of the story, too, though, because everything we experience in this life has an effect, on us, in some way--- whether, good, bad, or neutral--- and the things I'm currently describing also contributed and converged with the rest of, what has continued to form, my often poor opinion of people. All of the hurtful experiences with males, in my life, for example, contributed, to the death of my Disney dream--- that silly one, that is cultivated in little girls, from a very young age, to find my 'prince charming' and live 'happily ever after'. Most of what I was shown, by men, and therefore learned, about men, was only, 'nails in the coffin' of that dream. Cumulatively, these males left that for dead, when they were done with me--- and with whatever influence or input they had contributed, to my life--- and, therefore, my view of it. Of them. The male children, which are also brought up watching the same movies, as the girls, don't take away a better life lesson, from them, either. They go home and play knight, alright, but they do not seem to care if their armor is shining. They seem focused on slaying dragons, and winning wars against imagined male foes so that they get the praise and the glory for doing them in, with swords made of cardboard covered in aluminum foil.

There is not a thought, in their heads, about any relationship with the princess, if they even consider her, at all, in their playtime fantasy. Males are trained to want to conquer the world. Even in military training, as adults, ingrained in their minds is the message, both implied, and spoken aloud, by their influencers, that women are a weakness, a vulnerability, and a hindrance for them, that they are not to be distracted by. Little boys are told not to cry because of their gender although God gave them tear ducts; and they face a lifetime of not being trained or emotionally equipped to have successful interactions, and relationships, with the other half, of the world's population. As angry as I am, at how men have failed me, I am aware that both sexes are given ideas, and information, that have not served us well, as human beings. I am glad Disney is, now, making movies with, better, role models for their viewers. I'm a female chauvinist [Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: Why I Have Become A Female Chauvinist], to be sure, because of all of my experiences with men, which informed, and therefore formed, my views, on them. But, I do still like certain things, about males. Enough, that I tolerate them. This adamant diatribe describes how I feel in general about the opposite sex. I do have male friends, that I really enjoy socializing with both in person and on social media. There are, also, helpful, and hopeful, stories, such as on the TV newscasts at times, describing how a man went above and beyond to be a blessing to others in this world. A giver, and not a taker. A modern day hero; to show me, that some do exist, here and there. So, I KNOW, that SOME are OUT THERE (although, I am convinced, that there are not nearly enough, of those types, of men). This blog is about MY experiences, in life, though. Including, those with men, which, have not been, as pleasant, or as promising, for me. I never met my hero. I thought that I did. Once (upon a time) in my life. But, I was wrong. He, just used me, for sex. A cliche, of how men think and act toward women, in general, if ever there was one.

Sometimes the sheer single-minded simplicity of the thoughts and actions of men can, in certain circumstances, be a delightful and welcome escape, from my more complex, female, mind, with all its meanderings, and musings. This characteristic about them can be a double-edged sword, though. Especially, when, they wield it in someone else's life. This, general, attribute can make men much more likely to be able to be uncommitted, or unfaithful; seemingly unable, or unwilling, to think through (or care, too deeply, if any, at all, about) the impact that they are having on another's life (whether they are someone's boyfriend, boss, or bagging prey in their hunt in the wild). On the one hand, this can make them fun company for me to do things with. On the other hand, they can, leave a wide path of damage, and destruction, in my life (which, separately, and cumulatively, they have) and never even look back, to see me, lying in the dust, of all that. My, general, view, of men became a troubling, panoramic, picture, as it took shape, piece by piece, over my lifetime; much like when I'm assembling a jigsaw puzzle. One, little piece, of that, isn't so revealing, on its own; but when, the larger picture (of who and what men are, to me) began to take shape, I was dismayed, to see that it did not look at all like I thought that it would. Nor, did it end up looking at all as promising, as I had once believed, with all my heart, that it would, and had so deeply needed it to be. I am, way past, 'Once bitten, twice shy', now, with men. I keep my walls up, now, as well as, my standards, for who I allow, into my life. They have to be, people of integrity, honesty, and decency, to even be a friend, now. Not just men. Everyone.

Yes, men's straightforward simplicity can be a relief, when dealing with them, but their lack of emotional depth is a real drain on me as well as a trial and a trauma that I try very hard to keep out, of my life, at this point, to avoid further damage to my soul. The damage done to me, by men, was extremely hard on me when I was young. My ability to endure that type of destruction does not exist anymore, in me, especially now that I am a senior citizen with much more limited ability to claw my way back up, out of the pit, of that hell, they tossed me into; if only due to the arthritis in my fingers. I am very well aware, that I cannot sustain another such injury, to my (well)being--- whether the wounds they have left are scars on my body, or those they inflicted on my very spirit. So, I have serious boundaries, now, and a deep aversion, to any male, trying to convince me, that they will ever bring me more, than they take; to fill me up, instead of, their, usual, draining me dry. That, is the biggest problem, I have with men. Alot, are liars, either by word or by deed. They will set out to achieve a goal, in their interactions with me, that has, often, seemed to be something very much at my expense. I. just. can't. do. that. to. myself. anymore! And, I won't. What I will share, in this post, describes even more of the 'puzzle pieces' falling into place for me regarding who men are; who they decide to be, in this world that I must live in with them. At this point, if  I had a choice, I would banish most men I have known from my kingdom forever. 

Each one of them created, or contributed, a thought, or emotion, or both, in me, about, who they were, and what they would be, in my life. From my emotionally absent and cold and cruel father, to the Russian-Roulette-selected club customer, out of the hundreds, that propositioned me for sex, night after night, after night, at work, in the nightclubs, who was simply the one I happened to be sitting with when I finally arrived at my behavioral Tipping Point and decided to have sex for money--- each of these men gave me a shove in the direction of my agreeing to have sex by selling my body for money. Many men in this post contributed, to it happening, too, although they would never understand, or acknowledge that, or believe that, unless they were the ones in bed with me for that reason; which is why this is also an important part of my life story to talk about. I still remember me as a little girl, who was so innocent and sweet and giving and just wanted to be loved. I was a sweet, pure, little child who, finding out more and more, while growing up, lost more and more of my innocence. I learned this life would never be as sweet as my dreams. It would instead be more like a nightmare for me, in many ways. In essence, the men in my life stabbed me to death, one sharp blow at a time, until they killed 'me'. What I am now is never going to be as precious, as that person that I was, before this happened to me. I have been twisted, and torn, and tainted, by most of the males in my life; the things they have done, to me. After all, it is one thing, to show me that real life is not a fairytale; but, it is another thing, to teach me, that I will never, in my life, be able to trust that any man, that is in my life, in whatever way, for whatever reason, is not going to let me down or cause me harm in some very significant and scary ways. Who I am, now, is largely what was left after that death of my innocence, and trust, due to how I assimilated all this information, that men, provided me, about themselves, individually and about their gender, as to what manner of creature they are. I so wanted to respect, and admire, men. I really wish that I could do much more, of  it, toward many more, of them. They don't provide me reasons to, based on how they behave; especially, toward me. Men are often, such a poor example of MEN. 

I'm far from, the only woman, who feels this way, toward men; that struggles to deal with our deep disappointment, in men. What far too many of them are, and are not, in our lives. The airline pilot, 'Sully' Sullenberger, recounted how, he got 'hero sex', from his wife, after he successfully landed his plane, in the Hudson. A song, lamenting a woman's unrequited longing, for the type of man I am talking about, here, which also indicates, through the lyrics, how hard that is to find, is: 

Holding Out for a Hero*
Bonnie Tyler

Where have all the good men gone?
And where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night, I toss and I turn,
And I dream of what I need!

I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!
Larger than life.

Somewhere after midnight,
In my wildest fantasy;
Somewhere just beyond my reach,
There's someone reaching back for me!
Racing on the thunder, and rising with the heat,
It's gonna take a Superman, to sweep me off my feet!

I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!

I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above---
Out where the lightning splits the sea---
I could swear there is someone, somewhere, watching me.

Through the wind, and the chill, and the rain,
And the storm, and the flood,
I can feel his approach, like a fire in my blood.

I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!

I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast,
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight.
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon,
And he's gotta be larger than life!

I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero, 'till the end of the night . . . .

Songwriters: Dean Pitchford and Jim Steinman

When I was a dancer, at The Twenties nightclub, one of the bouncers became my steady boyfriend, for awhile. He looked older, than I was, and the boys that were just ahead of me, when I was in high school, were those being sent to the war in Vietnam. So when Tim told me that he was a Vietnam vet, and shared some 'war stories', with me, of harrowing things he had survived, as a brave military man, I was deeply moved. It didn't hurt that he was fairly good in bed, either. One night, a group of Vietnam veterans, wearing their insignia from their prior service, were in the club. Seeing them, there, I went over to their table, and introduced myself, and was excited to tell them about my boyfriend, Tim, who was close by, working the door, that was right outside the Showgirl Room where I danced that night, as security. Of course, these men wanted to meet Tim, and ask him what branch, of the service, he had been in, and where he was stationed in Nam. When I went to tell him that I wanted to introduce him to them--- telling him that they may have been stationed in the same location he was, which would give them even more in common, to share camaraderie, with one another, Tim refused to come and meet them. At the time, I passed it off as just coming from more of his war trauma, he said, that he suffered from, which he told me was one of the reasons he drank so heavily. He could really put away his rum-and-cokes. I felt sad, that 'my guy' had gone through such awful experiences. Tim seemed, devoted to me, and we had a fun time together. After the bar closed, and the customers had cleared out, some nights when my feet hurt from dancing in my high heels all night, Tim would pick me up (along with my suitcase of costumes, I was carrying in my own hand) and physically carry me out over his shoulder, to his car, to drive us to my apartment!

I never even asked where Tim lived. I assumed he surely had his own apartment. Something about, the rugged way he looked, and the very masculine way that he carried himself caused me to suppose he lived in some, not-so-tidy, bachelor pad. I made alot of money, as a dancer, and my biggest tips came from my dancing at the, prestigious, Twenties--- which was the premier Gentlemen's Club, in Omaha, in those days. So, I lived downtown, in a luxury apartment building, at that time. Being tired, by the end of a long night of being 'on', to entertain the packed club,  I would have Tim take us through a restaurant drive thru, for some quick supper, To Go, and then head to my place. I knew I made way better money, than he did as a doorman, so I paid for our food. No big deal. It was his company I cared for.  I didn't need Tim's money. We would wolf down our food sitting in my apartment and finish up with 'dessert', in the bedroom. Sigh! I didn't trust many men. But I did trust Tim. I can't believe I'm saying this--- given all the times and ways, men have failed me, in my life--- but, it didn't even occur to me NOT to. I took him AT HIS WORD. I BELIEVED, what Tim TOLD me. Then, everything started to unravel. 

He had a brother, Dave, who was incarcerated, in the local jail. I don't recall why.  I met him, when Tim went to see him, during visitation hours, one day, and took me along. Dave got out of jail not too long after that and he came to see me one night, to tell me that Tim had lied to me, about who and what he was, and that I should not take anything, he told me, as the truth. I didn't believe Dave since he also came on to me--- his own brother's steady girlfriend!--- by trying to put the moves on me. Soon after this, on Tim's night off, from work, Dave came to show me something that, he said, would prove that he was the one being straight with me, and that, my boyfriend--- his brother--- was lying, to me. Then, Dave pulled out a driver's license. It was Tim's. Dave said that, Tim was home, passed out on his bed; and, that, BOTH OF THEM lived in the BASEMENT of their parents' home. The ID showed Tim was ACTUALLY several years YOUNGER than ME. NOT OLDER. So THERE WAS NO WAY that he could have EVER been in the Vietnam war. Dave, who was NOW the MORE CREDIBLE one, of the two 'boys', said that, Tim had not EVER been, in the military, and certainly, NOT IN A WAR. The birth date was right there, on the ID. Then, as my whole relationship, with Tim, crumbled into pieces,  a dancer, told me, that Tim was going over, across the river, to party, for that last hour, that Mickey's Razzle Dazzle was open, in Council Bluffs. The Iowa bars were open until 2 AM while Nebraska bars, like The Twenties, closed at 1 AM back then. While I listened, to one of my co-workers tell me this, about my boyfriend, whom they all knew, I thought back to all the times, lately, that Tim had told me that he could not come up, to my apartment, with me, as he dropped me off there. While giving me his, reasons, for that, before he drove off, those never included that he was headed over to our sister club (both, were Mickey's bars), to try, to pick up a dancer there. I was stunned. How could men say all these lies? To their girlfriend!

She said that he had even been making a point to let it be known that he was my boyfriend, to try to seem more desirable to these other dancers at our sister club, because I was considered to be, and called, one of the Top Three dancers, at The Twenties, at the time, so I was much more than just another dancer in the lineup. It was 'a THING' to be MY boyfriend, at the time. To make matters worse, several of the girls at my own club knew but had not wanted to tell me because they saw how much I liked him, and knew it would crush me. She confronted Tim, and said if he didn't tell me, that she would, because the girls at the Razzle were all saying that "Stevie's boyfriend" was doing all this BEHIND MY BACK. When he refused to COME CLEAN with me, she did. She thought I should know, and SHE WAS RIGHT, about that. The next night, I saw Tim at work. I came up to him, as sweetly, as I always did, to my boyfriend, and even offered to get him a drink. He perked right up at a free rum-and-coke he didn't have to put on his bar tab to come out of his wages. I ordered it "tall", and when it came, I paid for it, tipped the waitress who brought it, then picked it up, held it up high, over Tim's head, like I was, about to make a toast, to 'my man', and poured it all out on him. He was a real rummy, to begin with, so he would not, smell, any different, than he did, any other night, at work. He would just be rather wet and sticky, working his shift. He stood there in total shock, after being 'Babe Baptized', by his drink. Then I told him that I knew. ALL THE CRAP. HIS CRAP! That, he had, TOLD me, and DONE, to me. I told him I found out, that everything he was, and everything we were, was a lie. It was, all, just a lie. Even sweeter still, to soothe my pain, and assuage my rage, what I did to him, about it, got back, to the girls, at our sister club, and NONE OF THEM had anything else to do with him after that. NOBODY wanted a JERK like he had been.

So, if I seem, tough to handle, to men, now, I simply say, to this, DEAL WITH IT. Or, FUCK OFF. It is what it is. YOU MADE ME THIS WAY. You played a part in this. You know you did. You won't admit it, or acknowledge it, but we BOTH know you DEFINITELY DID. Somehow. Some way. I am not mad at GOD because of YOU. I am mad at YOU because of YOU. God gave you Free Will, making you completely accountable for EVERY thing, you do, in this life; just like it does for ME. My sins, are, and will be even further, laid out in this blog, for the world to see. Does that intimidate me? No. I know that I have to stand before my ONE JUDGE, someday, and I am ONLY concerned with what HE thinks about me, and my omissions and commissions. My words. Said, and unsaid. And my deeds, done, and not done. I am very well aware that I'm FULLY ACCOUNTABLE to HIM, for all of these things. Other peoples' sins are ALSO talked about, in this blog, if those had an effect, on me, and on my life. There is a reason, that I titled my blog, "Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul". THIS, is what has made so MUCH of it that way, for me. These sins of others, that were perpetrated against me. Not just from men; but I had, long, looked, to that gender, to provide me with ONE GOOD MAN, from their ranks, that WOULD LOVE ME, right, and well, and bring the healing, to my heart, that ONLY THAT CAN DO for a woman. My mother, caused me a world of hurt, as well, which I am STILL VERY DAMAGED FROM, to this day. But, more of my pain, than not, has come from males, that have been in my life, in some way or other.

Do I sound angry? YOU BET, I AM! I am PISSED OFF, to the CORE, OF MY BEING. However, the TRAGEDY, of that, is that my ANGER is directly proportional, to this deep, stinging, HURT, that men have caused me. This didn't 'just happen', to me; in me; with no provocation, or reason. I was so FULL of LOVE 'once upon a time'. What makes me even madder is that, once a man makes us angry, causing us to feel this way, by mistreating us--- they can't handle our anger at them and don't want to hear anything from a female that is upset with them. They don't want to be held accountable. They don't want to have to explain, to us, why, they did, all that to us, because they know they really have no good explanation for choosing to use us, to lie to us, to mistreat us, to rape us, to be the assholes they can be, to us. So, they infuriate us, by abusing us, in some way, whether, it is physically, mentally, or emotionally, or all, of these, and then, they exit, Stage Left, without a "You didn't deserve this", or so much as an "I'm sorry", or anything to help our healing, from it. Why? Because, MEN FEEL ENTITLED, to TREAT females this way. 

Despite what is, apparently, largely the male mindset, toward us, women are not toys. We are not expendable objects, to be consumed, by men, then, what is left, of what we were, just tossed aside, as if we were like bottled water that was only valued until it had quenched their thirst. Misogyny, justifies it, in their minds. Too many men, routinely and regularly do things to women that they'd never want to be done to themselves. Women, unfortunately, get alot, of experience, at being a 'survivor', throughout our lives. We are people. Human beings! Men hurt us. Men harm us. Then, when we get upset, because of being mistreated, so we aren't so much 'fun' for them, anymore, men move on; most likely, to do, similar, damage, in another woman's life, leaving us with a broken life, as a souvenir of their time, in it. In my experience, men have left me worse off, for having known them, and allowing them into my mind, my heart, or my life, in whatever way, they were in it. I have stuffed so much anger, in me, from all this crap, men have done to me, in my life, that I could launch a satellite into space, just from the sheer explosive energy, of that. Instead, I give it to God, who knows all things, and says, "I have heard your prayer, and seen your tears; I will heal you". (2 Kings 20:5 NIV)  Yes, there was a time, that men pushed me into prostitution. But, prostitution pushed me into the loving arms of God, where despite all my pain, rage, and deprivation in my life, I am extremely happy! A human being is quite a complicated creation.  I have, both, extremes, existing within my soul. Nevertheless, God has saved my soul, and redeemed my life; and although I know (I can clearly see), that I won't be fully healed, of all that has harmed me, until Heaven, I have that hope to hold onto, now, every 'damn' day, on this Earth, and THAT beauty, and truth, and love sees me through all of this and more. Believe it or not, I smile, laugh and feel joy every single day, now, and I even get up, off the couch, just to dance around the livingroom! God, is my life, my everything, and my all-in-all, and, I tell Him that!

So, while I will return to blogging about my dancer days, in the near future, God Willing, to finish talking about how I finally ended up doing prostitution (enough, times, that I labeled those deeds, 'the dirty dozen'--- times, not number of men; which was much less, because I, mostly, had repeat customers), what happened to me with other men before that also ultimately contributed to that delinquency when I went back to being a dancer, again. When we interact, with other people, they are constantly giving us information, whether, by their words, or by actions, that send us strong signals, not only about who they are but who they think that we are. When women are constantly having it drilled into their brains and seared into their hearts that men see us as only being objects, to fulfill their whims, and wishes, and not as people, worthy of being loved and treated well, that message eventually, and permanently, seeps into our souls in a very toxic way. What goes in, must come out, in some way, or other; and it does. Especially when someone becomes filled to the brim with such poison. I managed to go about 4 decades in my life, still holding out hope, that someone, would treat me right, treat me well, and repair, within me, what was, increasingly, becoming a very dim view, of men, by reinforcing, the little bit, that was left, in me, that still clung to the belief, that 'all men are not this way'. I. really. needed. to. believe. that. But, I cannot go by hearsay, or anyone else's experience with men, to come to my truth about them.  I do know some really good guys but they are the exception rather than the rule. They are either gay or married or not someone I could or would be involved with.

My truth, is based on, my own experiences, with men. All that I have known and experienced, of them, and with them, ultimately assessed, as a whole picture, of who and what they are. I wish, there had been more, to convince me, otherwise, than I came to feel, about them. But, that was not the case; and, still, is not the case. Only it doesn't matter now, anyway, because I lost all hope and closed that door, decades ago, now. I just don't have enough faith, in that gender, to extend any more grace to them, to allow them to come into my private life, as who, and what, they claim to be versus who, and what, they have mostly turned out to be. There is that old saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." My giving chances with me to men, went WAY past TWICE in my life. (After all, I was married 5 times, to 4 men, before I stopped even trying that, anymore, in my early thirties.) I, finally, just had to STOP BEING A FOOL, for my own sake. Now, 'I call bullshit' on platitudes that sound nice but aren't true, at least for me; like 'Love conquers all', 'All you need is love', 'Love is all that matters', and so on. Bearing these things in mind, about the damage, that men have steadily done to my life, and to my opinion of them, the following is the next chapter of my story, which describes how, it isn't always just the men whose sins cause me problems:

Being, uncomfortably, aware, of my slowly, but surely, aging out, of the nightclub entertainment profession, I continued to intermittently try to find something else that I would actually enjoying doing (since I really liked being a dancer), between my working at various Go Go bars, in Omaha. So, when my favorite nanny job, in Wappingers Falls, New York, did not work out  [Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: Why My Favorite Nanny Job Did Not Last] but I loved New York, I tried to find another nanny job, there. I had first been, to New York, while I was married to, my third husband, Tom, who was from Brooklyn. Before he left for his Air Force remote duty assignment to Korea, as a sergeant and weather forecaster, he had taken me with him to his mother's apartment, there, and we spent several days, while she was at work, going all over Brooklyn, and Manhattan, together, to see the sights. I just naturally took to the high energy of the city and really felt in my element there. Of course, visiting, a place, feels, very different, from, actually living there, which I would come to find out, soon. Meanwhile, I was now, staying with the grandparents of the kids I had been a nanny to, after I was subpoenaed, to appear in court; in order to be able to testify, at a custody hearing. Now that it was over, I needed to move on, and find, another, job and a place to live. For me, the biggest drawback to being a nanny was that, if the job didn't work out, where  I lived was, also, gone, and my whole life was upended from all that, while I then had to quickly figure out what to do next. I was trying not to return right away to Omaha. I knew, I could still get hired in the Go Go bars, but, I also knew, I really needed to begin searching harder for an alternative to that. I was 30 now. That is already considered to be 'getting up there' in age for a dancer. But, nannies could be any age from a teenager to a 'granny nanny' depending on family preferences.

So, I placed an ad in the newspaper in New York City, seeking a live-in nanny job there. (Remember, there was no such thing--- even on the horizon--- as internet, back then. Jobs were, mainly, found through (1) newspaper ads, (2) employment agencies and (3) social connections, or word of mouth.) I didn't know anybody in New York except the people in Wappingers Falls, due to my nanny job, there; and nobody in the city, except the woman in Brooklyn who was now my ex-mother-in-law, since Tom and I were divorced. Not someone, I would want, to contact, after divorcing her son, because I am sure that to her I was the villain, in the situation. I did, with Tom, what I have typically done, throughout my life, concerning all my 'problem' people (up until I finally 'had my say' in this blog). From my narcissistic mother, to my half-first cousin (that I had married because I believed he took my virginity from me, when I was only 18; and I was scared, sad, and thought that I had to: Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections: My First Marriage: I Grew To Like Him As My Cousin But Not Really As My Husband), plus, other men, that I had married (whose loyal-to-them loved ones, I also interacted with), I knew their 'blindly loyal' loved ones would never have done any less than blame me, for, any, troubles, there were, in these relationships, in the first place.  I knew, that I was, naturally, being painted as the 'problem' one in each of these relationships (whether or not anyone inwardly knew or sensed, that it was not as simple as that); if not, by the person, that was in this relationship, with me, then by those, surrounding them, who had, 'blind loyalty' to them. I had become used to people taking sides, based on things like the common bond of blood; although in my case, I didn't even get that from my own relatives, which was an especially tough blow for me, since I was, constantly, coming up against that type of strong bias, in both, my own family, and others, advocating for people, at odds with me. 

Sometimes it wasn't even blood. My second husband was adopted by his parents. Yet, they, both, made it abundantly clear, that I was nothing more than some evil temptress, who was not good enough for their son, and stood to derail their son's happy life, and bright future. The facts, had nothing to do with, the way they saw me, or the situation, which, in many ways, was, much more, the opposite of that, despite my not having any advocate, like, they were, for him, to assert that truth, on my behalf. The Flying Monkeys**, were always going to portray it all to be my fault. Yet I said or did nothing at all, to contradict, this mindset, against me, or in any way attempt to set the record straight. I knew all too well that it would be no use. I would never be believed, by them, at least not outwardly, or behaviorally. I also knew, that it would, only make the situation even worse, than it already was, and give them an excuse--- that they were clearly already looking for--- to dislike or blame me even more, for whatever was wrong in these relationships. I am not saying I had no blame at all. But, I am saying that I was an easy target, and, far-too-easily, marked, and made out, to be, the scapegoat, because, it was easier to blame me, who simply, silently, 'stuffed it', whenever this was done to me, rather than, speak up, and demand, to be treated honestly, and fairly, or cause a scene.

That had started, with me knowing, from a very young age, that for some reason that I could not understand, my own mother had decided to make me--- the little girl who loved her--- the target of her narcissism. I, somehow, understood, that I needed to keep that to myself, to 'protect' her, in doing that to me, and not make any waves, if only because, my very survival depended on, this same person also victimizing me. This, maladjustment, transferred into my other relationships from there, as I cowered, before any hint of someone's disapproval, of me, and stayed quiet, so as to (try to) not 'give them cause', to turn against me, like, my mother, had; and was. When it happened anyway, I kept it to myself in order to not upset anyone--- at me--- whether, they were, the perpetrator, their, Flying Monkeys, or, just other people, that I did not want to put in the middle of something, that they might feel that they, then, had to take sides, on (and, possibly, against ME!). I let peoples' opinions, of me, stand, as 'fact'; no matter what, those were. Even when that was something far from the truth. I saw that people, who were 'blindly loyal', to others (whom, I was in a relationship, of any kind, with), for, whatever, reason, bias, or motivation, would take anything, I had to say, about their, 'pride and joy', that was negative, in any way--- even if it was TRUE--- as nothing more, than me 'proving' to them that I was every, horrible, thing, they already wanted to believe of me, in order to justify their believing that I wasn't wronged, but wronged them. I, therefore, had a poor relationship, with Tom's mother, because I had never told her, anything, about how he was toward me or what I had gone through with him. Although I never had that kind of loyalty, from my own mother, I realized that the mothers of everyone else, I ever knew, did have that kind of loyalty, toward them.

I had to list the home phone number of the elderly couple that I was staying with, in the newspaper, to receive calls about my job ad. There weren't any cell phones, back then. Just landlines. I was very discouraged, and apologetic, to these people that, I was a guest, of, when all that I got, as responses to my ad, were men that called me with perverted pretend 'interviews', attempting to engage in phone sex, with me. I actually had to ask the elderly, church-going, couple to make sure that their granddaughters, who came over to visit now, didn't answer the phone, while they were over there. It was a sad, and stressful, situation. I even hated for those older folks, that lived there, to pick up their phone receiver, and hear, some of the things that I was hearing, when I took those calls; always hoping that I would get a serious, viable, inquiry, to my newspaper ad, for a, nanny, job, for me. I did not know then, that, New Yorkers, normally only used domestic employment agencies when hiring their nannies, which made the whole process, more on the up and up. Because of my naivete in this area, opportunistic jerks (who never even knew that I had been a dancer, for that fact to potentially cause this type of reaction, toward me) seized the chance, to call me, and talk dirty, to me. My, sincere, ad made me stand out as a sheep separated from the flock, to them; vulnerable, to a wolf, like them. So, they tried to thrust their, sexual fantasies, into, my ears, on those calls. They didn't know my age, what I looked like, or anything, about me, except that I was a FEMALE, who had, placed a job ad, in a New York City newspaper. Clearly, I was out of my element, dealing with these Big Apple assholes, even though in the nightclubs, back in Omaha, I was no longer naive about that type of environment. 

I figured it out, but, embarrassingly, not right away. Not before I had listened to a man on a phone call to me, due to my job ad, whose heavy breathing I attributed to his having respiratory issues, such as asthma. Because, my mind, was focused, on caring for children, and not on the, sexual, desires, of some, disgusting, grown man, his statements didn't raise a flag for me right away. This guy, began the call, by saying that he was seeking a nanny, for his little girl. Since, I had just finished  working for a single father, of all girls, that did not raise, any, concern in my mind. Then, he described, how they lived above a, candy, store, which, in New York City, was also not unusual, since most people live in apartments, and many, live above a wide assortment of businesses, which are on the ground floor. He said, that, the little girl liked to go down to the candy store for lollipops; her very favorite candy. Next, he described how he was a strict disciplinarian and gave the girl a spanking "on her bare bottom". At that point, I started to get really uncomfortable. He was supposedly giving his outlook on 'child punishment', in a very, oddly, detailed way. I stopped him, from going further, when the very next sentence, out of his mouth, was how he v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y prepares, to spank her, by "pulling down her frilly pink panties", as, his breathing, got heavier, and faster. I was horrified, disgusted, and embarrassed, that I had not realized, where he was 'coming' from, before the call had gotten this far. Yet again, in my life, I had trusted a man to be respectful, decent, and honorable, toward me. I had given this man the benefit of the doubt; showing him, respect, and deference, as, a potential employer, to me. I had been made a fool of, in return, and had, actually, been, sexually assaulted***, by him, verbally. Being a survivor of stranger rape, it shook me to the core of my being. I screamed at him that I wanted a real job, from my ad that I had placed. Hanging up on him, then, after he simply started snickering; merely amused, at my anger, after I caught on to what he'd just spent several minutes getting away with at my expense. It was infuriating! But, beyond that, it was, also, very unnerving, to me.

When one woman finally called about a live-in nanny job with her, in Manhattan, I was so relieved, and, desperate, by then, that I took the train into the city, on the day that she scheduled the interview, with her, and her 2 kids, even though it was pouring rain, that day. From, sloshing through puddles, as I was coming up out of the subway, near Columbus Circle, to meet her at her residence, in the Symphony House**** apartments, on West 56th Street, everything, about it, just felt wrong  to me. I just didn't get a good vibe from her, or her two children; a boy and a girl. I could not continue staying where I was, now--- in the grandparents' house, that was right next door, to the home, where I had just been the live-in nanny, to their  granddaughters; while working there for their, almost former, son-in-law, who had threatened to shoot me with a gun, for some reason that was never clear to me. I needed, to make a living, and this family, that I loved, needed, to go on with their own lives, without me in it. I could not work for Gerry ever again, after his threat, toward me, despite how much I loved those 4 daughters, of his, which I had been a nanny to. These grandparents didn't need a long-term guest, although they had been very gracious to me, while I had been staying with them. So, I took the job, with Janet, in New York City, although, I also hoped, that it would turn out better, than 'my gut' told me it was going to; if only because, I needed to move on, with my life, now, and I just didn't know what the answer was for that, at this point. I have learned the hard way, to TRUST MY GUT. This nanny job situation became a real part of that education, for me, too. This new job, in the city, definitely, didn't go well. It started off, badly, never, got better, and, went downhill, from there. It seemed that, New Yorkers, were a whole new breed of people, I was not used to. 

 

Janet was an attractive, petite, blond woman who worked at CNN in news editing. She had gone through a nasty divorce, with a man that was from a quite well-to-do family, as she described it, and, they shared custody, of their 2 children. As it was now the end of the school year she was just sending their boy and girl off to spend the summer vacation with their father's side of the family, so I only got to meet them, during the interview, and never saw them, again. They seemed a bit like spoiled brats, to me. Privileged, and therefore they had an air of entitlement about them. Janet seemed to be trying at least, to be less so, that way, if only in an attempt to converse, with the, potential, nanny, in a more egalitarian manner. She had married into money, she said, but was, now, a working girl, due to their divorce, as she characterized it. After lunch at a restaurant, she took me and the kids over to the brownstone, that she had purchased, and was beginning to have renovated. It always amazed me, how small certain 'rooms' were, in some of the New York City dwellings. The nanny room, was about the size, of a walk-in closet!  I truly wasn't sure a bed could even fit, in that space. The neighbors' windows, in the next building, were so close, that I could have reached out and touched them while standing at the only window, in what would be my room in the brownstone. The kids' rooms were small, as well, though. It was just a typical NYC floorplan. I never did end up living there because the job was a disaster. I only had a chance to live in the apartment she was renting, at Symphony House, before I moved on from there; and since the children had both been sent to their father's side of the family for the summer I was never actually their nanny. All in all, it was a strange situation but it would not even be the strangest experience that I had while living in New York. I loved New York, and have always said, that I would probably have never left there, if I could have afforded, to live there, on my own, without being  a nanny. Living in the city, itself, was, a bit too stressful, for me, though. I would have much preferred to stay in a more suburban part, of the upstate, and go into the city by train, for shopping and outings. I loved looking out at the view, of the Hudson River, as I took the train, whenever I went down, to NYC, from Dutchess County, when I was a nanny in Wappingers Falls. Life pulls us away from dreams.

The apartment at Symphony House had a surprisingly large master bedroom with bath, but, the rest of it, was a small room with bunk beds, for the two children, a tiny galley kitchen, and a fairly little livingroom which had a bit of a balcony off it. This apartment, appeared to be, about midway up, the tall building. I slept in the children's room, in the lower bunk, since they were away for now. The apartment  actually had no room at all for a nanny. Janet said that, we should all be going to the brownstone, by the time they returned after summer vacation. I would find it very hard, to believe, that Janet was a poor communicator. Especially, as her job, at CNN, was specifically to go over the news text that would, eventually, be read, by the anchors, from the teleprompter, to be sure those words said, clearly, what was needed, for the reporting. So, I am not sure why, she seemed to leave out a few very important details about the situation she was bringing me into since she had interviewed me for a job and I clearly needed a paycheck; and to know what was expected of me, in my role in her home. It turned out that she didn't pay me AT ALL while I was there, although she did give me domestic work to do that was basically doing chores as well as running errands for her, like a personal assistant would do for their employer. She had me call around town to find a suitable place to provide cold storage of her real fur coats for the summer months. She had me take a mountain of spikey high heeled shoes, of hers, to a shoe repair, due to the damage done to them by walking over New York City sidewalks and streets. What she never did, was pay me or feed me! She seemed to think that I was somehow independently wealthy, rather than needing immediate income, after being out of work, for a few weeks already, after I stopped working for Gerry, and fled, for my life, when he threatened to 'shoot me with a gun' for some unfathomable reason! She also never brought groceries home, while I was there, or sent me to get any; and there was very, very, little in the apartment, to eat, because Janet was gone, most of the time, and apparently, ate out all the time. Including romantic dinners with her boyfriend, whom I saw in person, only twice, in very awkward situations.

One day, I noticed there was a pair of binoculars, sitting by the livingroom window. Apparently general voyeurism is an accepted practice, for New Yorkers, who are all so tightly packed in, together, in such a relatively small space. It turned out, that I wouldn't need them, to see something quite shocking, though, as I stood there. In another high-rise building, in view of me, at the same level, as the windows of this apartment, a group of grown men were gathering. What got my attention, and my concern, about this, was that they were each wearing long black capes with hoods and were standing together in a small circle. Then to my utter horror and disbelief, one of the men walked over to the open window, and was holding something in his hand. At first, I could not make out what it was, because it was so small. It looked like a caramel-colored creature, of some sort. Then I gasped as I realized that this was a tiny, innocent, very young, kitten, which was about to get 'sacrificed' for the ritual that these men were apparently performing. I watched helplessly as the man held the little animal out the window . . . and then let go. I just covered my mouth in utter horror; and my eyes just welled up with tears as I type this now, some 35 years later. I did not understand what these men were doing, or why. I still do not really know. I just know that it was a cruel, evil, thing, to do, to that precious cat! 

My brief time, living in New York City, at Janet's apartment, wasn't all bad though. Janet was almost always gone, so except for the chores I did and running errands for her, I had time to go to places, that interested me; even if I had no money, to do, anything, at those places. On Sunday mornings, I would walk through the city sidewalks, which are inevitably, interminably, obstacle courses of scaffolding from nonstop construction projects, to go to the Nederlander Theatre*****, where the church services, for the Times Square Church, were held. David Wilkerson started that church. He was a significant Christian evangelist, who had such an impact on my budding faith, when I was, a young person, growing up, in North Carolina. His courage, tenacity, and, evangelical, message, of the saving grace, of Jesus Christ, led to gang member, Nicky Cruz, giving his life to Christ. Both men, then led lives devoted to ministering the gospel to others; impacting, the entire world, with the, life-changing, love of Christ! David Wilkerson wrote a book about his experiences, titled, The Cross And The Switchblade, which was made into a movie as well, with Pat Boone playing him and Erik Estrada playing Nicky Cruz. I was always glad and grateful, whenever there was any example, of a man that I could actually look up to, and respect. (I also, went on a trip, with my church group, to hear Nicky Cruz, give his testimony, in person, when I was growing up. He had a thick Latin accent so it was a bit difficult, for me, to understand him, but his gratitude to the Gospel was very clear. I seem to recall he was there under some kind of, incarceration, or restraint, but that was, many, years ago, and I have no idea how that would have worked, exactly; unless, he was, allowed, to go, and speak, under guard, until his sentence was completed, or something, like that. This link, is to a video, of Nicky, many years, after, I went to hear him speak, but still, giving his testimony, to the saving power of the Gospel that transformed him: Nicky Cruz || Testimony - YouTube)

It was, amazing, to sit there, listening to this, fiery, man of God, giving his Sunday sermon, to those of us, who were blessed, to be there, in person. David Wilkerson, was a, surprisingly, small, slender, man who, as I recall, clomped around the stage in cowboy boots, that he wore with his suit. The sight, of this solitary, slight, figure up on stage made his true-life-testimony even more amazing, to me. He would not have looked the least bit intimidating, to the gang members, that could have taken his life, back in the day, when he had loved them so much that he was determined to tell them how much the Lord loved them. Another, interesting aspect, for me, of attending church there, was when he would ask the crowd, that came to hear him, where they were from, at the start of the service. I had lived in Miami, as a nanny, for a short time, and it was, considered, an international city. But, New York, is the quintessential international city! I had never lived, anywhere, like that, before. The people there named not just many states they were from but also many countries. Times Square Church was truly, an international church, from all around the world! Needless to say, Sundays were my time to feel uplifted rather than troubled by the situation at the apartment that continued to not go well. I hoped it would improve.

                                                  David Wilkerson

It didn't, though. One day, for whatever reason, Janet's boyfriend called me from a restaurant, that they were eating out at, together, having dinner, and asked me if I would like for them to bring something back, from there, for me. It seemed, highly likely, that Janet would be, completely, aware, of him offering this, since they were there together. But, the result, of his kind gesture, toward me, by offering me food (which, I actually REALLY NEEDED, as I was all but going hungry, by now) was that she actually screamed at me, after he dropped her off, at her place, along with the piece of cheesecake, that he had bought, for me. I was, totally, perplexed, by this, because she accused me of asking him for food, which I had never done. I had not even said anything to her about how hungry I was there, because she occasionally looked into the same vacant refrigerator and cabinet that I did when hoping to find some morsel, that was never there, so it seemed obvious, to me, that, she knew, I was probably going hungry. Especially, since, she was well aware, that she was not paying me anything, at all, since I had been there. She seemed to have put herself under the impression that my being allowed to live in her New York City apartment while waiting for summer to end, and the children to return to need me as a nanny was reward enough. She had never spelled this out in our interview, and I, frankly, felt too intimidated, by the situation, I was in, to risk, making any waves, about it. I was enjoying, seeing what, living, in New York City, was like. At least, enough, to continue, to struggle, on the last little bit, of my nanny pay, from Wappingers Falls. It was far too small an amount, to eat out on, or anything. But, I was able to get a very few basics, like bread, and peanut butter, from a neighborhood grocery store, to prevent me from starving. Which, I hid, in my room, because I was afraid Janet might eat it, since she looked for things to eat in the kitchen sometimes, while still never buying any groceries, or sending me, with some of her money, to get some. Since, I hadn't figured out, a better, alternative, I was trying, not to rock the boat. 

Then, that boat started sinking, on its own, without any help, from me. I came out of the bathroom one morning, after taking a shower, only half-covered-up because nobody was ever there, except Janet and me; and I saw very little, of her, there. I stopped in my tracks, stuck between the bathroom and my bedroom I was headed toward, when I ran into Janet and her boyfriend, both in bathrobes, at least, while he had both hands, holding both of her butt cheeks, through her robe, like he was testing melons. That is the only time that I ever saw him over there, except when he brought her home, after one of their dates. I supposed, that he had stayed the night. I wasn't sure, what, to say, or do, as I tried, to go past them, to go into my room, to get dressed. I just felt, really, awkward, and ill-at-ease. I wanted to give them their privacy, too. Janet was usually gone all day, and out late at night; so, I went to bed before she ever got home. Sometimes, I heard her coming in though, as I lay there in the bunk bed in the children's room. One night quite late, I heard her come in, and the sound, of a man's voice, that I identified as not belonging to her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was always very nice to me, the few times that I saw or spoke to him, in person, or by phone. He had once, offered me tickets, to some special, naval, event, on a ship, docked, at a Manhattan pier, but I didn't know my way around well enough, to feel comfortable going, and I had no money to spend, so I walked everywhere that I did go after I moved there. It was also on a Sunday which was the day that I enjoyed going to church, and then spending time talking with, and getting to know, some of the other people who attended the service. So I thanked him but also turned the tickets down. After Janet accused me of 'taking advantage', of him, when he had offered, on his own, and brought me, something to eat--- which was only, one piece of cheesecake--- I didn't want to be screamed at by her again, because of his generosity to give me something I never asked for.

I had no idea that the tickets were offered to me to keep me out of the apartment that Sunday, so they could be alone, there. I would have gladly stayed out longer, if I had just been communicated with, about it, by them. We were all adults, after all. However, the way that it had been handled upset me, because I felt like I was being treated like I was some kind of illegal trespasser, at this apartment building. It had frightened me, and I also felt it was over-the-top and uncalled for. As I had returned to Symphony House, after church, and talking with people, from there, I had entered the elevator, and hit the button, for Janet's floor number, as I always did. The elevator began its ascent but after almost getting to the floor it suddenly stopped; and then, started rapidly descending! It was so scary, because I thought that the elevator, I was in, was broken, and that, I might be hurt, or killed, in it! I was all alone in it, too, with no idea, at all, what was going on. I have never been very fond of elevators, to begin with--- especially, when, they are in tall buildings, like, this one was. When the doors opened again, into the lobby area, I went over to the desk, and told them, that, I thought, the elevator was malfunctioning. But, the man standing behind the desk informed me that Janet had called down to the main desk, described me and told him to be sure not to give me access up to the apartment, because she wanted time alone, with her boyfriend, up there. When I asked him why he didn't just tell me that when I entered the lobby on the way to the elevator, he replied that he had not noticed me, until I got on the elevator, so he had, taken remote control, of it, and forced me back down to the lobby. It had scared me, but now I was annoyed. I also wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now. Janet, had said nothing, at all, to me, about wanting me to stay out, longer, that day. I thought it was handled very poorly. In a very rude way. Between, that, and the other ways she had been treating me, I was feeling pretty angry at Janet. 

So, back to describing, this one, very late, night, when I heard Janet come home, and a man's voice, that I didn't recognize. It is said, that New York is the city that never sleeps. In some ways that's true. But, I had already been asleep that night, when their two voices woke me, and, I would soon realize, that it was intentional. Janet opened the door to the room I was in where I was clearly already in bed. It was late enough, now, to be the wee hours, of the morning. She had never, done that, before, and I had no idea, why, she was doing it, now. I lay very still, in the completely dark room, hoping that she would go away, thinking, I was still asleep. I was very tired, and did not want to have to deal with her until morning. She did close the door back, when I didn't stir, but, opened it, again, a few minutes, later.  I continued to lay very still. My eyes were fully open now, but my back was to the door. I didn't know what she was doing or why. I just wished that she would stop. When it opened a third time, I felt the two kittens being put on my bed, with me, and since Janet had just placed them there to climb all over me, I finally, said, to her, "I was asleep! Is there, some reason, that, you are wanting me to wake up?" Janet said, "Well, now, that you are, awake, I want to talk to you. Come out, into the livingroom." This was a woman that had communicated nothing with me, she should have, the entire time I had been there. Now, she deliberately woke me up at 1 o'clock, in the morning, when, I was clearly, already in bed asleep, to talk?!?

Also, the cats, were an issue, between us, because when I moved in she had told me, how she got both, a male, and a female, cat, because she wanted the two of them to have kittens. (These cats, were even siblings, which increased the risk of genetic defects and health issues!) I answered the phone at the apartment, when Janet was gone, to take messages, for her, and, one day, a woman called, for her, who wanted to know when Janet planned to bring in the two kittens she got from that place, to be spayed and neutered. She had been assured by Janet, when she took the kittens, that she would, definitely, be doing that, with them. Janet would not have been given the kittens by this place, otherwise. The caller worked for an animal organization that required it, of their pet owners, in fact. She was upset at Janet, for not keeping her word and following through. I felt badly, that Janet had misled these people, by not honoring her agreement with this organization, which was trying to reduce the population of animals, through sterilization, because, too many were born only to end up euthanized. The woman only knew, Janet had not done as she promised she would. I did not even tell this very distressed-sounding woman, on the phone, that Janet had told me, that she had no intention, of doing that; and, that, in fact, she was planning for them to have kittens. Nor, did I have any idea, when Janet told me, she planned to breed the cats, that she had gotten them from this place, and had made an agreement with them, not to breed these cats, at all. As I realized more, and more, the weeks that I lived there, that Janet was not a person to deal with people forthrightly, I felt increasingly unsure of and uncomfortable with her. Apparently, she had been, deliberately sidestepping all of this organization's repeated attempts to get her to fulfill her promise to them and schedule those appointments, for these two cats. When I gave Janet the woman's message, from that phone call, she knew, that, I knew, that she had, deliberately, lied to them, and misled them by making a promise that she never even intended to keep, in order to get the cats, in the first place. Hopefully, she was not going to be supplying kittens, to those, black-caped, men, in the nearby building, that had thrown that one, tiny, kitten, out the window, to its most certain death, far below.

I wish I had found another agency, to place me in a position, rather than, running my own job ad in the newspaper, because, apparently, my ad had not had anyone respond to it that, was a good person, or a good employer. However, I was placed by agencies, each time, prior to this, for all of my, previous, nanny jobs (in Miami, Bridgeport, Connecticut, and Wappingers Falls) and, I had 'problem' employers, in some form or another, every time. Also, I had only felt a genuine bond, with the 4 girls that I had just cared for, in Wappingers Falls, out of all, those children, that I was a nanny to. I had, signed up with another agency, in fact, while I was staying with their grandparents, as I began job hunting all over again. That agency was a very prestigious one as well. Before, I had, finally, run my own job ad, to find this nanny job, I had first gone to the Pavillion agency. It was a domestic employment agency, in New York City. That agency had a well-respected reputation for placing domestic staff of all types, including nannies, into the, very finest, homes, in New York City. Once I had signed up, Cliff, from the agency, sent me to interview, with a woman who lived at, one of the best addresses, in all, of New York City, on Park Avenue! She was, also, in a divorce, and had one, young, son, who was preschool age. She did not allow me to even meet the boy, though, for some reason. It was a strange situation. Outwardly, her address placed her at the pinnacle, of success, by New York City standards. Inside, the residence, however, there was only a lone grand piano, sitting in a stripped-bare livingroom, and, only, a few, furnishings, of any kind, anywhere, in the place! I was shocked, that she was actually living, that way, in this place, and could only surmise that, it must have something to do with financial issues, or some division-of-property situation between her and her soon-to-be-ex-husband, due to, the divorce, that she was in the midst of. She did show me around, including, what--- I kid you not--- HAD to be, a CLOSET, which, ALSO had NO furnishings, in it, AT ALL, and she said that, it, was the nanny quarters. It was, in the center, of this, amazingly, spacious, sprawling, place--- in comparison, to, other, New York City homes--- yet, it could not have been, more, than, a 7 x 8 foot 'room'. Much like it was, with Janet, who, I ended up with, from, my own job ad, that I placed, after going to this interview, this woman, was not, forthcoming, at all, with needed answers, to any, of the obvious, if unspoken, questions, that I, or anyone, applying, for this live-in nanny position, would have. Things, like: Was there, GOING to be, FURNITURE? And, Would I be expected to sleep on the floor? It all felt, a bit absurd, to me. We really can't, judge something, from the outside. Anyone passing by this place, at that address, would, probably, long to live there. To me, seeing it, from the inside, it was a train wreck of a situation, I didn't want.

She described her son, only as, having a 'biting problem', where he, for whatever reason, continually sought out other human beings, in order to bite them. I could not imagine what the child was feeling on an emotional level about all the turmoil in his young life, with the divorce, of his parents (and, the disappearance, of their furniture). But, I also didn't feel psychologically equipped, or trained, to deal with his biting issues--- especially when, as the nanny, I would be the one, most often in his path, due to caring for him directly. I listened politely, in the interview, left, and took the train back to Wappingers Falls. When Cliff called me there to tell me she wanted to hire me, I told him that I did not want that job. That, I did not feel that I could handle that position, and I didn't want to cause more upheaval in the child's life, if I tried to take it on, and it did not work out (which is what I thought would happen). Cliff said to me, "You do not understand. You, signed up, with the PAVILLION agency. We SENT you, to one of the, most impressive, clients that we have; at the best address in this city. SHE WANTS TO HIRE YOU. You do NOT say 'NO'." But, I said to Cliff, again, "I won't take that job. I don't think it would work out, and it would be wrong, to put the child, or me, through that. Cliff--- there is NO FURNITURE, AT ALL, in that residence! Did you KNOW that? This woman is in the middle of what's apparently a very messy divorce. I was just in the middle of one, here, in Wappingers Falls, and ended up having to testify in court, with that one. I'M NOT TAKING THAT JOB ON PARK AVENUE." Cliff said, "We CANNOT TELL HER that, YOU, are refusing, HER. That is NOT how domestic employment works, with this agency! If you do not change your mind, be assured we will never send you to another interview, for another position, through our agency. Ever. We are the best. We will lose face, over your turning this job down. That just isn't done."  I answered him, "Well, it's done THIS time, because I am NOT taking THAT JOB!"

Now, in the middle of the night, this woman, who had, answered my job ad, was summoning me into the livingroom, to talk to her and a strange man that I have never seen before, and have no idea, who he is, or why he is here, to talk to me.  I went into the livingroom, and sat down. Janet said, to me, "This, is not working out, with you here. This is my friend [I cannot recall his name, now]. Tonight, we were sitting in the bar talking, after work, and I told him that I need you to leave here, and he has offered to take you, with him." I stared at her, then at him, and said, "So, you have a nanny position, that you need filled?" He replied, "No, but I told Janet that I can take you with me. We can get your things, and leave now." I looked back, at Janet, and said, "You, and, this guy, that I do not even know, just came from, a bar, and you want me to just GO WITH HIM?!? WHERE? WHY? What am I missing, about this?" She never gave me an answer, to any of my questions, making me even more confused and alarmed. So I said, "I will NOT go with SOME STRANGE MAN, that I DO NOT EVEN KNOW, who doesn't even HAVE a NANNY job for me, in the middle of the night!" This guy, never filled in the details, either. My questions were not answered, nor, my, very real, concerns, addressed. He simply  kept saying that he was trying to help Janet out and that he had a car downstairs and I could go with him now. That, Janet, wanted me to go with him, now. It was truly terrifying to me! I suddenly felt, completely violated, and very unsafe. I told them that I wouldn't. I just wouldn't. Then, Janet turned cold, toward me, saying, "Then YOU have 24 hours; to get you, and your belongings (which, I had brought packed in a trunk) OUT OF MY APARTMENT. If you are not out by THEN, I will put your luggage out by the curb, on the street, and you can get it, if, it is still sitting there, when you figure out, where you're going, from here." I was, in total shock.

I knew it hadn't been going well, more due to Janet than me, but I had not spoken out about any of her injustices to me, and I had kept a low profile, around her. We hadn't been fighting or anything like that. Really, she was almost never home, and she had communicated, almost nothing, to me, all along. I had been there several weeks, now. I had never been paid, or fed, by her! But, I had done the chores and run her errands, as well as I would have done for anyone else. I suddenly felt very alone, and very scared. I went out onto the tiny balcony, and sat there, in the pre-dawn dark, looking out over this city, that I knew very little about how to navigate, and that, seemed to be chewing me up, and spitting me out. The yellow cabs, that are everywhere, in New York City, were about the only vehicles, out, on the street, far below me, by this hour. Janet continued talking with the young man, inside the  livingroom, just behind me, as I felt the cool night breeze, blowing across my face. Perhaps they thought I was mulling it over and after her threat would decide to go with him. I could not do that! For many reasons, not the least of which, was that I was already a stranger-rape survivor. Once you have been raped, you know it CAN HAPPEN to YOU; and you KNOW it can, happen AGAIN. You NEVER feel completely safe, after that, around ANY man. Especially, one you don't know AT ALL. One that wants you, to JUST  TRUST  THEM, and go into the dark night, with them, and get in the car, with them, but, they don't need a nanny, and they won't say where it is that they would take you. I was terrified! I, now, had 24 hours, according to Janet to get me and my footlocker of personal belongings out, of her apartment. I didn't know what to do! Lots, of people, are always, seeking domestic employees, in this city, so I knew, there were jobs, out there. I just wasn't sure how I would find one in 24 hours when that clock had already started ticking, in the middle of the night. Even if, I got signed up with another agency, once morning came, their paperwork processing, interview, and background check for it, all takes longer than 24 hours.

* Bonnie Tyler - Holding out for a hero Live - Bing video 

** flying monkeys - What Are Flying Monkeys? Beware the Narcissist's Fan Club | Fairy Tale Shadows  by  Kristen  Milstead,  an  author, researcher, and coach who helps individuals with a history of trauma overcome limiting beliefs and find their voice, so they can empower themselves to choose their own destinies. She has a Ph.D. in Sociology; is a narcissistic abuse survivor. Following, is a compilation, of quotes from her extensive article, that focus on what I'm trying to describe here, that, I have been, put through, by the 'loved ones' around those who mistreated me, adding insult to my injury in the process of that, since their 'blind loyalty' to this person dictated without question, or fairness, or even, at times, truth, that I would be cast in the role of the 'villain' or 'evildoer' in the relationship that I had with each of their 'loved ones':

"Flying monkeys may also engage in neutralization throwing their hands up and saying, 'Well,  there’s  two  sides  to every story,' or worse,  put  the  blame  on  the  victims. They listen to the sob stories when the narcissist tries to paint him- self or herself  as the  real victim  and may unwittingly  or even  knowingly help him or her  engage in  damaging actions. Or perhaps  they just turn a blind eye  and refuse  to  speak up  and call the abuse out  for what it is. In the true sense  of the term  'flying monkeys,'  they  may  act as an extension of  the  narcissist, parroting his or her manufactured feelings toward a victim. They may act on the  narcissist’s  wishes  regarding a target. This is called abuse-by-proxy. The list of  things that  they may be tapped  to  do  can include: smear  campaigns  against  the  victim, by spreading gossip, planted  by  the narcissist [and] ostracizing the victim.  Because  of  flying  monkeys,  the  victim   can  be  abused  twice: once  by  the narcissist and again  by his or her fan club. Flying monkeys  may have a desire to protect the narcissist at all costs, and that loyalty is what the narcissist depends on.Understanding the dynamics of the relationship between a narcissist and his or her flying monkeys  can be important  because  it’s easy  to get angry at the  flying  monkeys for 'not seeing through'  him or her. If you really want to  believe  people are essentially  good  but they  just make mistakes– especially if the person  in question  is  someone you  know  and care  about–  you will go to great lengths to protect that belief." 

I have known many of these Flying Monkeys in my life. In my close relationships, that I have had with, first, my family of origin (siblings, but, particularly, a sister; and, my father, at times--- although, this enabling behavior, fluctuated, with him, as to, whose 'side he was on', apparently depending on capricious things, like his mood, at the time, and who was, currently, in his favor); and also, with members of my extended family (such as an uncle) as well as with the parents and siblings of men that I married, along with, their employers, or co-workers, at times (such as their unit commander, in the military, who simply, accepted their explanations, about injuries, I suffered, at their hands, in spite of how implausible those things, they said, were; as a show of support for them), which never acknowledged, and therefore, never addressed, their behaviors toward me, that were forms of abuse. My own son, Jay, also, became one, of my, narcissistic, mother's, Flying Monkeys. After all, Flying Monkeys make 'love is blind' excuses for the same people that we ourselves made excuses for, because, we loved them, too. Even when we saw the red flags, warning us of their dysfunctions, which made us their victim they badly mistreated, or outright abused, in whatever ways. We had, also, once loved them and had wanted, even needed, to believe the best, of them, ourselves; as well as needing to convince ourselves that our own love and loyalty for them would deter them from mistreating us (which, we were wrong about, and paid a big price for).

*** "Assaultive behavior  ranges from  talk,  texting,  touch, and  exhibitionist or voyeuristic behavior to rape and murder. It is sexual assault whenever words and actions of a sexual nature are imposed against another person’s will." From Sexual Assault Is About Power | Psychology Today

**** Symphony House 235 W 56th St, New York, NY 10019. A 44 story building.

https://symphonyhouse.com The apartment building in New York City, New York

*****The Times Square Church briefly held its services in The Town Hall on 43rd Street in Manhattan and then in the Nederlander Theatre on 41st Street. In 1989 the church leased the former, Mark Hellinger Theatre, and bought it, in 1991, for 17 million dollars. Times Square Church is an inter-denominational, multinational congregation, located in the heart of New York City, which was founded by Pastor David Wilkerson, author of the best-selling book, The Cross and the Switchblade.

David Wilkerson was an American Christian evangelist, best known, for his book, The Cross and the Switchblade. He was also the founder of an addiction recovery program, Teen Challenge, and founding pastor, of the non-denominational Times Square Church in New York City. In 1958, Pentecostal pastor David Wilkerson, of Assemblies of God, was moved by an article he read, about teenagers, who were members of criminal gangs. All alone, with very little money, he goes to Brooklyn and finds himself, sometimes, in enough danger to be, literally, risking his life, to tell the members of dangerous street gangs about Jesus, giving them the Gospel.

The Cross and the Switchblade, the book which David Wilkerson wrote, about his true experiences, bringing the Gospel, to gang members, is inspirational reading! He met Nicky Cruz, that way; a gang member, that could have taken David's life, but got saved, instead. For some excellent information about Nicky, see this link: https://www.hachette.com.au/nicky-cruz/ . Nicky Cruz, also, became a Christian evangelist, founding, Nicky Cruz Outreach, a Christian ministry. He was once the director of Teen Challenge serving under David Wilkerson, who created that. It's  all, a powerful, true, testimony, of how, the love of the Lord can truly transform!

"Thank You, Lord, that, it is not any worse, than it is." My prayer when life is annoying

As a little girl, growing up in the South, I recall noticing how gracious almost all of the grandmotherly women around me were, such as at the church picnics and our extended family gatherings. I admired that, about them; not realizing at the time, that it was a conscious choice, which took effort on their part to achieve. In fact, I went through most of my life, assuming that elderly women were going to be that way. That they were even 'supposed to be' that way as their own special, positive, contribution, to our society at large, either because, it was simply their nature, or, because, they had lived through so much, by then, and, they had gained so much knowledge and wisdom, about life, that they simply understood the importance of living life in such a serene and genteel fashion. As I got older, I realized, that their benign behavior wasn't something as simple to explain, as just being blessed with some God-given infusion of ethereal saintliness that took no effort on their part. I began to see them more as human beings, except they seemed to have perfected the skill of continually walking in grace. They were more than willing to muster all of the necessary self-discipline required to, always, carry themselves with dignity. 

Making assumptions is always a slippery slope, about anyone or anything. For one thing, I also observed and encountered some elderly females, along the way, who were downright indifferent, as well as, those who were mean, cold, and hateful. A few were even malevolent rather than benevolent. All of this made me uneasy, as I suspected that their golden years were not shining with joy, peace, and love, for them. That, it was not 'a given' that, post-menopausal, females necessarily glided into their sunset years being gracious creatures, of sweetness, and light. Not only did it make me uncomfortable when I would encounter 'a sweet old lady' (judging by appearance; before, she opened her mouth, and interacted, with anyone) who turned out to be a real bitch, but I was well aware that my day would come--- if I lived that long--- to also, have to, pick up the mantle, of womanly elderhood, and take my place along with all those others that have gone before me, in the annals of time, to represent us all, myself. People will have expectations, OF ME, as well! Still, I always assumed (there's THAT WORD again) that whether it was because I am a Christian, feeling the influence, of Christ's nature, within me, to keep me on course, or because I am a keen observer of others, and already knew which of all those older women I ADMIRED, and, wanted to be like, that I would certainly NOT be one of the surly senior citizens, that I was personally taken aback by, myself. I felt like my self-discipline would be more than sufficient to deal with the onslaught of my latter years! I considered all the grouchier gals to simply be 'self-indulgent'.

Although I have been going gray for decades as well as dealing with some aches, pains, and varicose veins, that daunting day has, now, 'officially' arrived, for me, being that my 65th birthday was just a few days prior to my publishing this post. 

So, I am a full-fledged senior citizen myself, now.

>sigh<

It's my turn. Whether I like it or not, or, am ready or not, I, too, am now a living, breathing, representative, of, 'elderly people'. Others are certain to make a lot of stereotypical assumptions about me, in relation to that; just as I had done, when  I was younger, about older women, who were, then, my age, now. I, am the one, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually inhabiting that space, only I don't seem able to maintain that serene, smiling, self, that those older women whom I saw and so admired as I was growing up seemed able to do without alot of effort.

My struggle, to maintain positivity in my outlook and behavior, is understandable to some extent. They weren't in the middle of a deadly pandemic for over a year, as I am, at this point. They, weren't totally quarantined, as I am, now. Kept from having hugs, with friends, and being limited to, mostly, social media interactions, instead. They didn't have the added stress, of trying to live through these trying, terrifying, circumstances, that, I am experiencing; which feels, now, like a never-ending version, of the movie Groundhog Day*. I'm not someone who cries easily, but I have cried at least once if not more, every day this week, simply due to the added frustration from arctic air arriving, uninvited, and unwelcome, and sticking around, for a week or so, already, with more--- and EVEN COLDER--- frigid air in the forecast. I don't like to be cold, and when I am cold it exacerbates any aches and pains that I have, adding to that discomfort. As I type this, I have on 4 pairs of socks, 3 shirts, 2 pairs of long pants, . . . and, there is no, partridge, in a pear tree** at the end of that litany of my future laundry that will need to be washed. Sometimes I slip, and express my displeasure with the current circumstances by use of the word "damn". When this happens, I repent, of it, because of the Bible saying, in Jude 1:9: "But Michael the Archangel, when contending with the Devil and  arguing  with  him  about  the  body of Moses, did  not  dare  to  pronounce judgement  on  him in abusive terms, but  simply  said, "The Lord rebuke you." I don't have the right to damn (condemn) anyone, no matter how much they have pissed me off. That right, and responsibility, belongs to God, alone, as our Judge.

That was an archangel using verbal restraint, though; not, one of us, a flesh and blood human being. We are a Fallen creation, infected with, and besieged by, the sins of ourselves, and others. The psalmist, and king, David, who is described, in scripture, as a man after God's own heart, said, "I will watch my ways, and keep my  tongue  from  sin; I will put a muzzle on my mouth  while in the presence of the wicked. So I remained utterly silent, not even saying anything good. But my anguish  increased; my  heart  grew  hot  within me.  While I meditated, the fire burned; then  I spoke  with my tongue . . . ." (Psalm 39:1-3 NIV) Life can surely get the better of us, with everything we are forced to deal with. Especially, those things which we would rather not have happening in our lives. They can upset us to the point that we are not 'shining our light' so much, anymore, as 'thundering our cloud'. Bible verses instruct and admonish us to be careful of our words, but,  it can be easier said than done as the frustration, anger, hurt or impatience build up within us, until, like King David, we feel like we will explode, if we don't 'get it off our chest'. NOW. Holding our tongue can be hard. Sometimes, we could, if we disciplined ourselves more. However, exercising more self-discipline, in this case, doesn't seem to be very rewarding to us or even right, when we are upset about something, and wanting or needing to express that in no uncertain terms. People are very emotional beings. For better or for worse, we feel emotions very deeply.

I have learned from my own experience, though, the key to avoiding the start of my downfall, where I'll end up complaining, cussing and carrying on, is to switch my thoughts (and my words, following right behind that--- spoken out loud even though I am all alone except for God being with me, in Spirit) to focusing on the positives. The good things, about the day; or even, just that one moment, of my life, in which, I am still, abundantly blessed! Whenever I am caught between the two states of mind of feeling deprived, or feeling blessed, and I am struggling to get myself over into positive territory, mentally, sometimes, all that I can muster  is the statement, "Thank You, Lord, that, it is not any worse, than it is." That's a start, in the right direction, since I am, at least, acknowledging, before the Lord, that, although I really dislike something about the situation (whatever it is, I am not feeling good about), I realize things could be even worse, than they are, and that I am so glad that they aren't that. I'm saying to God, that I understand that whatever is happening, however bad, I deem it to be, is not the worst that could happen, given the circumstances, and the possibilities. >sigh< When I miss that mark, usually from failing to practice and to express gratitude, I end up standing before God saying exactly what reflects those negative thoughts and feelings I'm otherwise giving in to, such as despair, desperation, or disgust. Not my best look.

During this time, of total quarantine, that I am living in, for well over a year now,  I have taken to talking out loud, a good bit, if only to hear a human voice, in the void. It has given me some interesting insights, into the thoughts, and emotions, that have been a part of me, but were never really revealed to my consciousness as being, as present, and powerful, as they are, when only contained in the inner recesses of my soul. Like an erupting volcano, before it spews its lava, so heated that it has the power to destroy whatever it touches, I recognize those rumblings as my grumblings long before it ever pours out of my mouth. I first notice, that I am feeling generally annoyed, at everything and everyone, that crosses my path.  I live in an apartment, with only inanimate objects, except for the houseplants. I apparently anthropomorphize them all as companions who are also held hostage by this endless-seeming pandemic. Speaking to everything from the toilet to the toaster, I find myself saying, "Stop annoying me!" with a very irritated inflection, for only doing what they have always done, in their functions, which, did not put me on edge in this way, before this most trying of times, that I am living in now. Granted, my emotions are significantly more negative as are far too many of my words, reflecting them, during this trial of endurance, where the Finish Line isn't even on the horizon, as yet, and I am, already, way past weary of it all. But God has said that I'm supposed to let my light shine, reflecting His, during dark days  in this world, no matter what, including "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Psalm 118:24 ESV) I'm flagging terribly though.

As my frustration mounts--- having had more than enough time, for that, at this point, if I'm not careful, my prayers of gratitude disintegrate, into tirades toward God. Losing my composure, unable, or unwilling, to pull myself together, after all  of these annoyances, anymore, I stand before Him, in spirit, waving my arms, in agitation, spitting my words of exasperation and despair. I lose sight of my being mindful that it could be so much worse. That, goes right out the window, into the Coronavirus crisis, which has me wishing away the, irreplaceable, days of my life, now, since, I have too often felt stuck, in this frustrating limbo, that prevents me from engaging with who and what I enjoy! This, is not fun. It is not fulfilling. It is stifling. It is scary. It is sad. There are days, that I really wonder, if this will EVER be OVER. Days when I worry, that I might not survive it; that, this invisible killer, which so easily infects people and takes lives, will take away the very future that  I'm so hoping to have in my life. Sometimes I give in to panic. More often, I give in to anger. Covid-19 is affecting every, single, thing, about my life, right now. It  is something that, I am forced, to consider, and to contend with, in various ways, every, waking, moment; although, I also have nightmares about it. I HATE THIS!  It can be hard, to be grateful, for the fact that, I AM STILL ALIVE. These days, it feels to me more like I am simply 'existing' or 'surviving' rather than really living anymore. I end up, apologizing to God, after I drop an entire arsenal of F-bombs in His holy ears, as I pour out my caustic complaints that I must go through this.  I end it, with the reminder, to my forgiving Heavenly Father, from Psalm 103:14: "For HE KNOWS how WEAK WE ARE; He remembers WE ARE ONLY DUST." (NLT)

I end up taking it out on God, because, for one thing, there is no one else, here, with me, BUT Him, and He is ALWAYS WITH ME in Spirit. For another thing, just like He did, with the plagues, of Egypt, in Bible accounts, He COULD, stop THIS, plague--- NOW. But He hasn't, for reasons that may be good ones but that I am unaware of, and probably would not understand, if I did know what they were. I know that He never goes back on His Word. Even when WE might think it would  be BETTER, in some way, if HE DID. So, I am left with the situation, as it is, and continue conversing with the houseplants, and the inanimate objects around my apartment, just for somebody to talk to, as these days go into weeks, weeks go into months, and months have gone into years, now, causing me to feel cooped up, and scared. Scared because of the pandemic (my being a senior citizen now makes me even more vulnerable to serious illness, or death, if I catch Covid-19; which doesn't help my situation). I am also scared that America will not survive, as a democracy, as the world watches us in horror, now that CRAZY TIMES were UNLEASHED on our nation from Trumpism and its cult following, and a shocking number, of our leaders, and population, refuse, to condemn, and crush, it. I feel scared that I have no future, because in several ways the present is threatening that. Most, of my allotted lifespan, is clearly already behind me, at this point, so time is of the essence, now, for me to try to live the life that, I have, still, so far, only been dreaming of, before it is too late, for me. I have never felt so terrified, so much of the time, as I do right now. Although most days I push that aside by standing in Faith, on my favorite scripture verses, staying busy, and trying to be  in a positive frame of mind, in my apartment, there are days that it all seems to pile up on me, like the proverbial straw that breaks the camel's back. That's the moment I am prone to launch into one of my testy tirades at God, saying things like, "HOW MUCH LONGER is this FUCKING PANDEMIC going to FUCKING LAST?" So much for my behaving like those older ladies that used to be my role models. They, are probably turning over in their graves, due to my tainted temperament.

Some people are shocked, when I describe, my 'conversational candor' with God; saying to me, with a look of concern, that indicates they think that I am going to be struck by lightning for doing that, "You said THAT, . . . to GOD?!?" My reply is that God ALREADY KNOWS EVERYTHING about me, including what I am thinking, even toward Him, and that, the relationship I have, with Him, is a very real, and deeply intimate, one, including, that we sometimes have 'heated disagreements', at least on my end of the conversation. If you read the Bible, God also gets mad, at us, at times. The prophet Isaiah describes God as being a Husband to us, who belong to Him. I don't know of anyone who does not sometimes find themselves feeling upset at their husband, for allowing something to happen that they could actually prevent, altogether, if they so chose. Something that is causing what we see as being a negative situation, in our lives. I love God, with all that I am; and realize alot of these things happen due to our having Free Will. Our collective sin has a real effect, on both the planet, and on one another, causing many of these problems that bring us suffering. Even if God is allowing something to go on that I view as being bad, He has greater Wisdom than I have; and I know, at the end of the day, that I just have to keep trusting Him, because, there are, most likely, things about the circumstances I can't or don't understand, from my perspective.  I still remember, many years ago, I was upset with God, and I was ranting about something--- out loud--- to Him. I told Him that since, whatever it was, that was making me so upset, with Him, was undermining our close relationship, with one another, and that He is (per Isaiah) my "Husband" after all, that we should go to the pastor for 'marriage counseling', over this issue between us. (I was of course being sarcastic, because of my dark mood.) I finished, by saying, in an emphatic shout that, "Of course, we BOTH KNOW, that IF WE DID THAT, he would just say that it's ALL ME that's the problem and NOT YOU, because YOU'RE PERFECT!!!"  

In the past, PRE-PANDEMIC (which FEELS like FOREVER ago, now), I usually had more outlets to relieve my stress. Going shopping; going to see a movie or a trip to the zoo. Eating out at a restaurant, with a friend; parting ways with a big hug, between us. I, actually, went into self-quarantine, at the end of November, 2019, simply because that was my usual 'hibernation' during the cold months, that also coincides with flu season. I stock up, on whatever I will need, for 4 months or so, and stay in, cooking and baking, watching movies, putting together a 1000-piece or 1500-piece jigsaw puzzle, which is very challenging. After being out and about all over the place, the rest of the year, doing that had felt like a welcome retreat,  a respite, from so much socializing, and the stress-inducing issues that arise just from actively participating in society. Still, I would start to get 'antsy' in February and was 'straining at the bit' to be out doing things again by March, during those limited times of isolation. When I basically shut myself in, like Noah in the ark, in 2019, I could not have even imagined that I would still be in that self-quarantine, one year and three months later (and, still counting), and that now it isn't simply to avoid the seasonal flu, and have some 'ME' TIME. It has become something as serious as a LIFE or DEATH isolation, for me, now. That kind of weight brings me down, at times, into this place of darkness and despair. A place of frustration and futility. I see so many people still selfishly refusing to wear a mask at all, and the scientists, saying, they JUST DON'T KNOW, whether Covid-19 will be a ONE TIME ORDEAL, or whether it will, endlessly, continue to morph into various strains that keep on perpetuating it. They just do not know, if the vaccinations are temporary protection, or longer-lasting. They cannot say yet, whether the shots will work as effectively against the variations, of this virus. NO ONE REALLY KNOWS. But God. Only, He is not announcing anything, on the evening newscasts, letting any of us know, what future, we have; or, how dangerous, or, how long, this will be, for us.

>sigh!< My remaining days on this Earth are MUCH MORE WEIGHTED, because I am already a senior citizen. I don't have NEARLY as MANY days, LEFT, compared  to those I have already lived. TV news stories tell us how incidents of depression have increased, even in school-aged kids, who feel, isolated, and alienated, from their friends and activities which define their identities to themselves and others, in many ways, and give their lives such meaning and purpose. They tell us about the frustration these young people feel as they've been unable to have in-person proms and graduations. Those are significant life events for that age group. I do not downplay that at all. But, for the most part they can anticipate that they will have many more years to live. I don't have the luxury of feeling that way, at my age now. I just have to remind myself that I am still here and try to make every day as purposeful and meaningful as possible, given all the limitations that I live under during this terrible time. I am not sure WHO TO BE MAD AT in all of this. I don't know WHO or WHAT is to BLAME for this global lock-down, to some degree  or other. God? The market in Wuhan, China? World-travelers, that spread Covid? People that refuse, to wear masks, to stop the spread? Who risk OTHER people's health, and lives, because they, selfishly, do not want THEIR FREEDOM curtailed?  I have felt angry at any, and all, of these, at times. But, it doesn't help anything.  It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make, any of this, any better. I am tired of feeling mad, and feeling sad. But, I'm also sure, that I will continue to feel those things, and even more, until, the world finally stops seeming so out of control, in so many ways, and starts, to feel like, it is some semblance of NORMAL, again. I NEVER thought I would EVER have a NEED to WISH and PRAY for a NORMAL life.

It has been BELOW ZERO, for DAYS now, here in Omaha, Nebraska; with all of the snowstorms piling up, on one another, because they can't melt. 4 1/2 more weeks until SPRING, and, YES, I AM COUNTING THE DAYS! I saw this photograph, above, on Facebook and it somehow seemed to sum it up fairly well, for me, at this point. We had a Record Low here yesterday, of -23 degrees, with a -37 Wind Chill Factor.

* Ground Hog Day: A weatherman is sent to do a story, on a 'weather forecasting' ground hog. While there he realizes that he is waking up every morning only to be stuck in that very same day over and over and over again, until he feels like there is NO END TO IT, and that, he will have to go on living this way, forever, with each 'new' day actually being another REPEAT of that same day! It does end eventually.

** This Christmas carol, The Twelve Days of Christmas, refers to the festive days beginning the evening of Christmas Day (December 25), through, the morning of the Epiphany (January 6). The verse, of the song, to which I refer, in my post, is: "On the fourth day, of Christmas, My true love gave, to me: Four calling birds, Three French hens, Two turtle doves, And a partridge in a pear tree."

Why My Favorite Nanny Job Did Not Last

My favorite nanny job was in Wappingers Falls, near Poughkeepsie in upstate New York. That being said, it was, still, nowhere near ideal, by a long shot. There were problems from the very beginning and those got steadily worse, overshadowing it all, eventually, to the point of ruin. I loved the kids I was there to care for though, more than any others I was a nanny to, during all my forays into that career field. They were the ones I truly got attached to; so my heart broke, over leaving them. Especially knowing the situation they were in, with no one, that should have been there, for them, being there, for them, for a variety of reasons. My own childhood had been shattered by my parents' marital problems which came out of the same self-centeredness, that these girls' parents demonstrated. People don't realize, or really think, hard, about, or care, enough, about the harm their marital problems end up causing the children who are in the middle of that. Parents are at the core of a child's sense of security, and stability. When that is eroded, it is like the solid ground they had thought they were standing on turns to shifting sand under their feet. It never feels alright, again, after that, to a child. I know, firsthand, because my life was, deeply, affected by this, growing up, and I saw it again, with these 4 girls, that I was hired to be the nanny for. Just like, it had done to me, it changed their lives, and them. Far too often innocents pay for the sins of the perpetrators.

My divorce, from Tom, was finalizing, including my financial support which the Air Force required him to provide me, as his dependent, while still, legally, married. I also, sadly, would now be required to relinquish my military dependent ID as well, meaning that I could no longer go onto the Air Force base on my own, so I had to leave all my, fun, and freeing, social whirl behind me. Tom had been in Korea and living with his yobo. When I found that out, I wanted a divorce; and I had moved to an apartment directly across from the Air Force base, in order to access all the amenities, and, the eager-to-chase-me servicemen, for some flirting, and fun, of my own as the balm for my broken heart. Because I dated these military men on my terms for a change, it didn't present the problems that it had, for me, when I was enlisted, myself, and, was even stationed at this very base. The worst, of my encounters, with men in the military, when I was serving, was when my, married, commander, attempted to force me into a sexual relationship with him. I refused, but experiencing that was so traumatic for me that it cost me my military career, because I realized I couldn't function, and certainly couldn't thrive, as an Airman, in that environment. My military record had been exemplary, prior to that time. I had enjoyed the, harmless, flirtation, and all the dates, I had gone on, during my divorce from Tom. He had acted more like, a rebellious, ungrateful, teenage, son, to me, than a husband, in any way. I had to decide what to do next, with my life, at this point. That marriage had been such a huge disappointment. In every way.

I was 30 years old, by this time, and already getting my third divorce! Although I had always looked younger than my actual age, it was still, generally, considered to be 'getting up there' in age for being an exotic dancer, so I thought I would try employment using the Caregiver skills, I also had, at this point, to see if a nanny job could finally get any real traction. There are plenty of challenges in doing this kind of domestic employment however, not the least of which is that you have to live where you work and work where you live. This causes the job to overshadow everything about your own life, 24/7. It also tends to greatly magnify what is not working well with the situation since, with no escaping it, it works on your nerves until it can seem overwhelming. A little irritation can quickly become a huge turn off, when you can't ever get any mental, emotional, or physical, distance, from it.  I had something to offer this industry as a former Certified Nursing Assistant and homemaker. My being somewhat older than many nannies was considered a plus as well due to having more 'life experience', in general. The agency had matched me with this family because I was older than the usual nannies that were in their late teens or early twenties, and this family, I was interviewing with, was a single father, who was gone for several days at a time, every week, as a traveling route salesman, and 4 daughters. Elementary-school twins, aged 9, or so, as I recall, a middle-school-aged, 12-year-old, and, a 16-year-old, in high school. There was a concern that a, very young, nanny would be too close to the ages of the children, themselves, to be able to ever be taken seriously as the adult figure in the home.

Much of what this father, hiring me, should have been concerned about was what he was bringing into this situation, himself, though. None of which I had any idea about, at the time that I was interviewing for the job, over the phone. I wouldn't be there very long at all before I started to see what was going on, which was an abdication of his parental responsibilities, to these young girls, who all absolutely adored their dad. This situation was about to engulf me, in a real-life soap opera. This was the one nanny job I could have stayed in, quite happily, for many years, if not for the sordid situation finally making that both, impossible, and unsafe, for me. Before it was all over I would have my life threatened and be subpoenaed to testify in court. Books have been written, about nightmare nannies, but based on what I went through, as a live-in nanny to several families, I would definitely say that the families, hiring the nannies, bring alot of dysfunction and toxicity, to the situation. I would end up returning to dancing, in the nightclubs, in Omaha, after this go-round of New York nanny misadventures, was all said and done, if only to recover from it! I had never thought that, being a nanny, could put me in danger of being killed, like being a dancer had done. Not from Mafia. From my employer!

Back then, these interviews were done using, landline, telephones, and except for the photographs, of the nanny, which were required, by the agency, and provided  to the family hiring her, it was, all, done 'sight unseen'. There was no internet. No Skype, or Zoom. No smart phones. The prospective nanny wasn't given photos of the family. It was all approached as if the nanny had everything to prove, but the family, hiring her, were all, perfectly acceptable people. I did have more than one phone call during the process, with this family, though. The father, whom I would be working for, spoke with me, first, and explained that he and his wife were in a divorce, and that since 'she is crazy' he had full custody of their children and had retained the family residence as well, but that she was allowed to come there for, legally scheduled, visitations, to see the girls. He told me that he wanted to have this close, female, family friend who was extremely concerned about this family's situation, call and speak with me. So then, she also spoke with me by phone and asserted that the mother of these girls was mentally unstable; and, that she was helping Gerry, their father, to find a suitable live-in nanny, because of him having custody, but being gone so much of the time due to his job. Finally, he called me, again, and this time he put each one of his 4 daughters on the phone with me, to be able to weigh in with their own opinions about me. They had previous nannies which had not worked out, so they were trying to get the right one this time. The girls were charming! Not long after, I left Omaha, Nebraska for upstate New York.

Sadly, and, rather shockingly, to me, my initial introduction to Gerry's hospitality, toward me as a newcomer to his home life, only lasted as long as a pizza we had after he picked me up at the airport. As we met, and talked together, from there, to the pizzeria, and the restaurant, to his house, I felt comfortable with him, and welcomed! It is never easy to uproot yourself from everything you know, in your own life, and go somewhere completely new to live and work among people that you have never even met before. Especially when it's in the intimate setting of a private home where everyone knows everyone, except you. Within an hour or so of my arrival, though, when I had only barely introduced myself to the girls, and hadn't even become familiar with the layout of the house, yet, Gerry complained about his having to pick up the trunk with my belongings that I brought with me, for this move that I had just made, halfway across the United States, in order to help his family, as if, I had asked too much, of him. That, wasn't very welcoming. He actually lost his temper, when I wrote an item on the grocery list that I didn't see in the kitchen, so that I could make something that the girls were asking me for, also. I had barely been there an hour, but he actually SHOUTED that I should LOOK FIRST, because it was THERE. It was such a sudden and stinging departure from how he had been, before, on the phone with me, during the interviews, and how congenial and gracious he had seemed, in the pizzeria, that it did more than simply shock me. It SHOOK ME. I wondered what I had gotten myself into, and I was not sure, now, that I was glad that I had. I started to question that decision.

I'd only arrived late the previous day, as a complete stranger, to these people, to live with this family and care for his kids, when Gerry left early the next morning for the start of his workweek. In the phone interviews, that I'd had, with him, he had, significantly, misrepresented, to me, how much, and how long at a time, he would be totally absent, from this home, and, his daughters. He covered a multi-state sales route, for his company. But, after seeing that he was, basically, a full-time-ABSENTEE-father, I couldn't imagine, why any court had agreed to give him total custody of these children! As it turned out, he was NEVER home, during the weekdays, during ANY week that I worked there, for months. He left early, every Monday morning, and never returned, AT ALL, until Friday evening. After supper. He was GONE--- 24/7--- during the ENTIRE workweek. I was being paid $150.00  a week, plus the room and board a live-in nanny receives due to living where we work. That wasn't alot of pay to begin with, but it was almost an obscenely small amount of compensation, for Gerry making me solely responsible for running his entire household, in EVERY way, and taking care of ALL of the needs of his FOUR children for 107 CONSECUTIVE HOURS, week after week after week. That meant that my pay was equivalent to $1.40 an hour! When I would bring it up to Gerry, rightfully asserting that I was wrongly being left on duty, by him, for far too long (and was not what we agreed to in the interview process), as a block of time, he skirted around the issue, only saying that he did not want me using those words around the girls because they took it as me saying 'doody' which to them meant human fecal waste. He was simply trying to silence me, because, he had a great thing going for himself and didn't want me--- one of the VICTIMS of his (hidden) agendas--- spoiling it for him. Since I was otherwise happy with the job I stayed.

As I was seeing, from the very start, that this man had not been straight with me about much of anything he had told me, about this job, however, I did call up the nanny agency that had placed me there, to discuss my concerns with them. They were no help to me, whatsoever. They basically told me that they had placed me, as their product, into this situation and had been paid, for that, by Gerry. He had indicated to them (OF COURSE!), when they asked him how I was doing, that he was VERY PLEASED, with my efforts on behalf of his home and family, which was EXCELLENT work, I was doing, and, a TOTAL BARGAIN, for HIM; and they did not want to have to deal with their CLIENT NOT BEING HAPPY. So, they left me there with no remedy or correction, to my being taken full advantage of, except for me to quit, and finance my own way back home or to somewhere else. So, I had NO SUPPORT, FROM ANYONE, in this situation. I really did like these 4 girls, though! The Middle Child Syndrome* reared its head with Roslyn, the 12-year-old, which made it much more challenging for me dealing with her, than with anyone else. I did continue to use the word "duty", with Gerry, to remind him that this WAS my JOB, after all. He was already taking great advantage of me as my employer, and having been a nanny, before, I had already learned by now that, in these, live-in, nanny situations it's important to prevent the family you work for from forgetting that you, also, need, deserve, and even require, time off to yourself, to do things FOR YOU. Things that you want to do, versus, what you have to do, for a change. At least Gerry returned home every weekend to his daughters, so I had those off.

Wappingers Falls, was a charming, family-oriented, village, in a beautiful area, of upstate New York. It was surrounded by everything, that I personally could want, to explore, and enjoy. From taking the commuter train, into New York City, along the beautiful Hudson River, to going to an art festival in Rhinebeck. This was also the first nanny job that provided me with a car, and even better, it was dedicated solely to my use. I believe it was the old 'classic' that Gerry drove as his first car, back when he was in school, but that was exactly the type of car I had also been given by my parents as my first car when I was in school. So, it didn't bother me at all, that is was old and not 'flashy' in any way. It ran really well and it took me everywhere, that I needed, and wanted, to go, throughout the area. Including to the new Galleria mall, in nearby Poughkeepsie, which was the largest mall there, in Dutchess County. So, I was happy. I found a great church there, and attended social outings, like pool parties, and cookouts, at their homes. I even, met a guy, in that same church, whom I dated, for awhile. It had seemed, to be turning into something serious, between us, but, something in my gut told me that he wasn't really right for me. (It would be another decade or so, before I finally figured out that, honestly, I just really do not like being married, in general; or tied down, to some guy, that ends up, taking me for granted, or, mistreating me. I LIKE BEING SINGLE--- STAYING SINGLE. To this day. I DON'T feel 'deprived' living THIS way; but I did, often, feel deprived, in relationships, as in, short-changed!) I went out dancing one night, on my own, just to let off some steam after meeting so many other peoples' needs, as a nanny, that was sometimes at the expense of meeting my own. It was some 'R & R', for ME. So, I was well-immersed in, and integrated with, this community. It was a great place, to live! Honestly, I could quite happily have lived there forever and never left. I REALLY liked that area, and the life that  I lived, there. Moreso on my days off, than my days on. But, for the most part, it was, a pretty pleasant lifestyle, for me, there. I really fell in love, with New York!

There was alot more to Gerry's long absences than his work ethic, though, which was revealed to me when he finally came home at the end of my first, full, week there. That Friday, as he arrived back home, for the first time, all week, since he had left Monday morning, he got home around mid-afternoon. I dutifully took his luggage, to remove his laundry, from it, so that I could wash that, for him. There was NO--- NO!--- WORK clothing, at all, in the entire suitcase--- as, in, N-O-N-E! There were beach-style shirts with bright, bold, prints and shorts, and such. This man had just gone, right out the front door, not even, a full 24-hours, after I had arrived. A total stranger. Who had come to live in his home and care, directly, for his own, vulnerable, children. And, aside from a couple of, 5-minute, phone calls, he was nowhere to be seen, or heard from, ALL WEEK. So, CLEARLY, he was NOT 'working', based on, his job description, and the laundry, loaded into the washing machine. So, WHERE HAD HE BEEN?!? The girls weren't home from school yet so after starting the washing machine I went upstairs to the main floor of the house and I confronted Gerry. I could not believe, that he had not chosen to be close to home, for my FIRST WEEK WORKING THERE; especially, for his kids' sake, with a complete newcomer, under their roof, who might have even needed his help, with something, while learning the job duties, there. Or, what if I'd had an emergency, of some kind, and had needed to be able to contact him (which, he didn't provide me; only saying he would call home as he was able when out on his sales route)?

I was shocked at what he answered me, when I said to him, "Gerry, none of your laundry was work clothes, at all. So, would you please tell me where you actually were, during my first week working here?" Without looking, at all, uncomfortable, embarrassed, or ashamed, he explained all the dark details so easily, without any hedging or hesitation. He told me, "I was with [that female 'family friend' that he had also had me do a phone interview with for this job]. We went away together! We're in love, and are, actually, having an affair, because we're both still married.  I met her through her husband, who is a friend of mine. He bores her, though, as he never wants to go anywhere, or do anything--- just sit, at home. She, likes to go places, and do things. I really like her style. So we got involved. My kids don't know, though, so don't say anything, to them. All in good time. I want to involve her, and her daughter, in their lives, gradually, because, they love their mother. I want us to end up together, though, at some point." I asked him if his friend had any idea that he was having this affair, with his wife, and Gerry said no, and that his friend didn't appreciate this amazing woman, so, that justified him having the affair, with this man's wife, since he DID appreciate her. I stood there, aghast, at all he poured out to me about this situation while he looked very pleased about it all. Talk about 'dirty laundry'! All I could think about, was how much it could hurt the girls. He was divorcing their mother, whom I hadn't met yet, and already had another woman, waiting in the wings, to become a 'stepmother' to his daughters. He was willing, to break up two families, and hurt everyone else involved, for her.

Despite my having to work alot of hours, for a puny paycheck, I was glad that he wasn't going to be home much, at that point. I hated to keep secrets, from these girls. But, more than that, I dreaded what would happen, when they finally found out what his plans were, for their family to take on a completely different form--- as, he added, this woman, and her daughter, to all of their lives. What if the girls were not okay with all of that? How did their own mother figure into this picture? How was Gerry going to make it work? How would his 4 daughters, whom he was very close to, cope with it? Could they accept it? Or would it destroy them, or the close relationship with their father, whom all these girls completely adored. I was already feeling ill-at-ease, caught in the middle between an employer's directives and the girls that I truly loved, almost like they were my own. When Gerry would tell the girls that his bedroom was locked, all week, while he was gone (primarily because his wife came to the house for her visitations with her daughters and he didn't want her snooping around in there) even though he had given me a key to go in there so that I could clean it, I was left scrambling for an explanation when the extremely observant 16-year-old, Valerie, would ask me, how was it possible that his room looked and smelled so clean and fresh, when they went in there on Friday evenings, to watch TV, and spend time with him, when he came home, for the weekends. I'm not a good liar, because, I don't like lies, to begin with. I think lies always lead to a bad conclusion; whether, that means, a thought, or, a result.

Gerry had called home, briefly, once or twice, the first week, that I worked there, and after talking with each of his 4 daughters he also asked me how it was going. After about the second week, he never bothered, to talk with me, at all, on those phone calls. Only to the girls, relying, solely, on the perspective of these children, to inform him of how things were going at home. That didn't give me a chance to discuss any of my concerns, with him, such as some of Roz's behaviors becoming problematic. I would have preferred, and, at times, even needed, his guidance as her father on the best way for me to deal with those things. When I began telling the girls, to make sure that he didn't hang up, until he and I also spoke, on those infrequent phone calls, the last one to speak with him would end up telling me he said, he had to go, once they had finished talking, and hung up. Perhaps, there is  a compliment for me, in there, somewhere. Meaning that, as I continued working for him, Gerry felt quite secure about the fact that I continued doing an excellent job managing all the responsibilities for this household and family, in his absence, and therefore saw no real need from his point of view for us to converse with one another, about any, of it. He had said, that, since I came to work there, his house had never been cleaner, and, his girls seemed happy with me there. So, he didn't feel that it was necessary to find out whether there were any problems, issues or difficulties that I had along the way, which needed addressing. I felt frustrated at times that he never acknowledged that I may have concerns myself to ask about. He simply never took that into account which caused me to feel both disregarded and disrespected, and even angry, at times, depending on what wasn't discussed, between the two of us, that I think should have been; if only to show his support. So, we did not discuss anything all week, while he was away, and when he finally got home, Friday evenings, he would tell me that he needed to spend some time with his girls, after being gone. I wasn't even married to or romantically involved with this guy. But I still became his frustrated, resentful 'housewife', after awhile.

Gerry basically rarely bothered to communicate with me. At most he did that to a minimum; whether he was away all week, and was calling home, or when he was actually there on the weekends. However, when he came home, on Fridays, and I was on the phone with my boyfriend making plans for that weekend, Gerry would insist that I get off the phone and come with him to go grocery shopping, that he otherwise, did not need me for, or include me in. The one time that my boyfriend, who was from my church there, stopped by the house, with his pet cockatiel with him, in its cage, because he thought the girls would really enjoy seeing the tricks the bird could do, Gerry got upset, about his being there, and told me not to ever allow him in his home, again. It was just as well, I suppose. The girls delighted in the antics of this animal, so my guy had opted to leave the bird behind for awhile as a way to get the girls' minds off the situation, of their parents getting divorced and such. I felt uneasy, about that, though--- knowing, what the cockatiel meant, to him, and being well aware, that Roz would often act out, in ways that were, at times, mischievous, and were, sometimes, simply troublemaking for its own sake. Sure enough, when I went back, to check on the safety of the bird, because, Roz, had lingered nearby, where he had left it, on the screened-in back porch, still out of its cage, she was trying to get it to fly, out the door! I put a stop to it, and had my guy take his pet and leave. Roslyn was the only one, of the girls, I considered to be a 'problem child', and sometimes she would deliberately create trouble that seemed to be aimed specifically at making life difficult or upsetting for me. While chalking it up to, her being, the middle child, stuck between, the older sister, and the younger twins, and, her anger, at the loss, of her mother, in the home, it still made it harder, for me, to ever really feel close to Roz, like I felt with the other 3 girls. Behaviors have consequences, and cause reactions, in others, whether, you are an adult, or a child. Roslyn was beautiful, smart, and talented, and I admired so much, about her. But, she did, frequently, cause me to feel put off, toward her, when she would undermine me, and do whatever she could to make my job, and therefore my life, more difficult. Valerie told me that Roz pulled shenanigans with  a former nanny, too, which was one reason Gerry hired an older nanny, this time.

Valerie, the 16-year-old, and I, had the two bedrooms downstairs, in this middle-class, split-level home. The garage, a laundry room, a half-bath, and a den, were what comprised the rest of the lower floor. When I first arrived, I was very aware of the fact that, this teenager, was only 14 years younger, than I was! So, as she came into my bedroom, to get to know me better, I described how, the two of us, reminded me of the scene in the movie, 'The Sound Of Music', where, 'Maria', the live-in nanny, was talking with the oldest daughter, 'Liesl', in her bedroom, as the girl asserted that she was too old, to need a nanny, and the caregiver responded, with, 'Well, then, you and I can just be good friends'. It felt that way, to me, with Val and I, too. She had an eccentric habit of 'preening' me by standing in back of me when I was seated somewhere and plucking out my first gray hairs that were appearing among my almost-black strands, even though I was only 30 (Roz gave me, a few, of those, gray hairs, too, while I was there, I feel sure!). Birds do this to one another as bonding behavior. I allowed it from Val, because it seemed she was coming from a point of view of doing something caring, toward me. (It could be, fairly well, assumed, that MOST young women DON'T WANT gray hair, so she removed those, from my head, seemingly to be helpful.) All 4 of these girls were personable, smart, amazing, people, and I truly loved them! Even though Roslyn could provoke me into feel angry, toward her, at times, due to her rebelliousness and troublemaking stunts she pulled, I also felt a great deal of deep compassion, for her. One night, after I had scolded her for something earlier in the evening, I went to check on the girls, to see if they were all asleep in their bedrooms on the main level of the house, before I went downstairs, to go to bed. Both twins, were asleep, in their bunkbeds, in their room. Roz, had fallen asleep, in her room, with a book, that she had been reading, slipping from her hand. As I slid it away, from her hand, without waking her, my heart just went out, to her, for, how lonely, she must feel, so often, for so many reasons. She was the hardest to love, but it was only because of her 'bad' behaviors she chose to engage in; and she NEEDED the love. More, than ANYONE, in that family, I believe. I knew, that her, irresponsible, antics merely meant that she was in pain. Pain that she acted out of, but couldn't find a way, at 12 years old, to, really articulate. She actually reminded me alot of me growing up feeling so much pain from the problems between my own parents.

There were more, heartbreaking, layers, to this dysfunctional family drama, that Gerry was instigating, at the expense of everyone; even, in the extended family. As I learned more about those things, along the way, I sometimes felt surprised, shocked, or sad, due to my love and concern for these girls that I cared for, who were being affected by it all in various ways, beginning with the disintegration of the two-parent home, and intact family, they had always had as their foundation before, Gerry, decided, to discredit, and divorce, their mother. He could be cruel, about that, at times. My feeling is that if men in general were more mature, and less jerks, there would be so much less destruction, and suffering. The first time that I saw Gerry behave coldly in a way that directly affected his daughters, was when the girls were to participate in the Confirmation service, at their parish. As  an Italian family, they considered themselves to be of the Catholic faith**, even though they never once attended any church service or Catholic Mass during my time there, except for this one. Gerry dutifully made sure that the girls had their Confirmation. It took place not long after I had arrived to be their nanny. I can't recall, now, how many, of the 4, took part, in this official Church ceremony, and which ones, may have already had their Confirmation. The twins, Geraldine, and Jackie, were the ones this was for, I believe. But, due to the age span, that girls, usually, go through this, it could have been, any, or all, of the 4 girls. I think the reason I don't even remember that, now, is because, although I was present, at the ceremony, it wasn't where my focus was emotionally during this, significant, life event. I was feeling ill at ease, because Gerry had insisted, that I use one of the allotted tickets, the parish issued, to the families involved, because of space limitations; which, was intended, for their mother to attend. In order to prevent that. Because, I had never even met her, at that time, to know what she looked like, I don't know if she managed to be there, anyway, in an overflow gallery, of spectators, or not. She should've been there, up close, front and center, though.

When the Confirmation ceremony was over Gerry drove us to a store to purchase something that he needed, before heading home. He went in alone, leaving the 5 of us sitting in the car. It was a beautiful, warm, day, so, the windows were rolled down. He wasn't gone long but in those few minutes an older woman approached one of the back windows, and began speaking to the girls about the Confirmation and their thoughts, on the experience they had just had. I assumed that this was some kindly parishioner, making lovingly polite conversation. The girls did not tell me who she was or introduce us to one another. They did tell her that I was their new nanny, but the woman didn't introduce herself to me, or really converse with me directly, and I didn't want to intrude on whatever connection she had with the girls. It must have been a couple of MONTHS later when I saw 'Roz' (Roslyn) just standing, somewhere in the house where I had never seen her, or anyone, stand, before, which was in the dining room. We never used it, since Gerry wasn't home for family meals all week, and the girls and I simply ate at the kitchen table. She was just staring out the window at something so I went over and asked her what she was looking at. Her answer, truly, floored me! During my time there the girls RARELY expressed ANY emotions verbally about all that they were going through, with their parents divorce, and the divide it caused, within their family. This brief conversation, between Roz and I, stood out to me, even more, because that was the case. She told me, that she was looking at the house right next door. When I asked her why, she told me that it was because her grandparents lived there!

I was incredulous, at what I was hearing! I just could not BELIEVE, these special, and significant, people in the lives of these 4 girls were living RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO THEM, ALL THIS TIME, and NO ONE had TOLD ME ANYTHING, AT ALL, ABOUT THAT! It turned out, that the older woman, who had, hesitantly, dared to stop by their car, after the Confirmation, had been this grandmother, Rose. I felt sad, for the girls, and angry at Gerry, because, when I asked Roz, why the girls were not visiting, their own grandparents, whom they loved, so deeply, she told me it was because their father had told them not to. They were their mother's parents who were living right next door; apparently, because all these people used to be such close family before Gerry decided to divorce their daughter. Even more bizarre to me, it turned out that the girls' own MOTHER was ALSO there at times and EVEN THEN, they were not ALLOWED by Gerry to GO OVER THERE. I simply could NOT understand it! These little girls were basically being deprived of both their actual parents, and their grandparents, and were, primarily, being raised by a nanny--- ME! It all seemed, not only ridiculous, to me, but, really, wrong. By the time this happened, I had met the girls' mother, and had interacted with her several times during her home visitations, with the girls. While, I am not a trained psychiatrist, she and I had, several, conversations, and I felt, very, comfortable, that she was NOT 'crazy' (THE STANDARD EXCUSE AND DISCLAIMER THAT MEN USE AGAINST WOMEN when THE MEN don't want to bother to do what it takes to have healthy, happy, relationships with these women. These men decide that it is simply easier to discredit the women, than to change themselves, or do the right thing by their marriage, or their family). I heard SO MANY MEN, that I talked to, while dancing, in the nightclubs, say, of THEIR relationships, as THE explanation, for WHY it had not worked out, that "She was just CRAZY!" that I began to recognize it as being what IGNORANT, and SELFISH, MALES, say, to LET THEMSLEVES OFF THE HOOK, in order to AVOID ANY RESPONSIBILITY, for WHAT'S WRONG, in the relationship.

Regardless of the sins of the parents I hated to see the situation being negatively impactful on their 4 daughters, who had done nothing, to cause any of this. They were being denied the comforting presence of their loved ones, too. So, that very evening, that I saw Roslyn staring so longingly out the window, wistfully trying to catch a glimpse of her grandparents, whom she loved so dearly, I broke this rule, of Gerry's, which, I thought, was cold, callous, and cruel, that, he had apparently inflicted on his obedient daughters. I told Roslyn to 'Go outside, through the back door, and play'; and I made it CLEAR, to her, what I MEANT, by that. I told her, to simply tell me, whenever she wanted, or needed, to, that she was 'going outside, to play', and JUST LEAVE IT AT THAT. It was something that, these girls didn't do, in actuality, while I was there; making it our 'code word', for her slipping away to be with her grandparents next door for awhile. So, she slipped out the back door, and I watched from that dining room window, until she got to their door, before I gave her privacy, and space, for that tender moment. If Gerry found out about it, and got mad at me, or fired me, for that, then SO BE IT. He was content to be an absentee father, for the most part, and to trust ME to know how to, best, care for his home and family which was a big responsibility I shouldered all by myself the majority of the time that I was there. I was WEARY of his HATEFUL rules, and his SELFISHNESS; with him, having the time of his life, in his, adulterous, love affair, while, depriving, his own children, of experiencing affectionate relationships, with their family members, that they so needed; especially now. I saw NO REASON for the girls to HAVE TO BE DEPRIVED of that healing, helpful, anchor, in THEIR lives. Especially since their mother only saw them briefly, for scheduled visitations, and their father was almost never home. Otherwise all they had was me as the nanny. 

I was around whenever their mother came for her visitations with the girls at the house. In getting to know her, I viewed her as a somewhat silly, but goodhearted person, who was 'being the better person'--- by far, in comparison, to Gerry--- of the two of them in this divorce. She, always, had a smile on her face! She wasn't crying, carrying on, acting enraged, or doing anything destructive. She just loved her girls, and, she loved spending those precious hours with them. There came a point, that she poured out her heart to me, about how helpless, she felt, that she had been so discredited by Gerry in the legal proceedings, and her concern about the impact of it all on the children. I shared her observations and concerns about that. So, I said to her what should have been obvious, to her own attorney, or to her; that, if I, were in her shoes, with, so much, at stake, regarding my children, that I would most likely subpoena someone who would have to testify under oath about what was ACTUALLY GOING ON in this family. Someone, who would KNOW, FIRST HAND. The NANNY. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, as the light bulb went on in her head about something that she had not considered before, which could greatly help her case. Not long after, I was served with a summons to appear, for  a court hearing, about the custody of the children, and all matters, related to the family situation. Also, Valerie came to me, one evening, and said that her mother wanted to stay the night with her, one weeknight, in her room, and I replied that, since she closed her door, at night, at bedtime, I HAD NO IDEA, what went on, in HER room, nor, did I 'officially' WANT to KNOW; and I left it, at that, for the most part. After all, I had also been allowing and frankly even encouraging, Roz, to 'go play outside', so that she could go next door, to see her grandparents, who loved these girls so deeply and LITERALLY lived RIGHT NEXT DOOR. That child NEEDED those people, IN her life! ESPECIALLY, during this family upheaval. So I allowed it.

The girls' mother had made some mistakes, though, which contributed greatly to the demise of her marriage. She'd always adored, 'dolling up' her daughters, but they were growing up, now, to the point that they didn't really need or want that being done to them, so much, anymore. So, she began collecting actual dolls; an outlet, which gave her a different place to channel this doting desire. Captivating her, to the point that it became an, unhealthy, obsession, the family home began to be overrun, with these dolls. Sitting all around, everywhere; was how this was explained, to me. It began to concern Gerry, as it should have, at that point. But, it had also caused him to feel that, the large majority of, his wife's attention, and affection, was with these inanimate objects. The Male Ego, never enjoys taking a back seat to someone, or something, else, that is distracting, and diverting, their woman's affections, away, from them. Men begin to feel, that they aren't getting the attention, that they should, be getting, in that relationship. So, not to excuse it, but if another woman enters the picture, and behaves toward this man like he  is the center of her universe, that he is desirable and so forth, a man's affections can become alienated, from the neglectful wife, and bonded, to the woman, that makes him feel important and wanted. Gerry's wife also made the situation even more distasteful to him, when she, being home all day as a homemaker, allowed some strangers--- who were Jehovah's Witnesses--- which, many, consider to be  a cult, to get their foot in the door. Literally; as she invited them into their home, when they knocked on the door, in order to gain access, to prosthelytize. She did this on several occasions. Once you allow them access to you or your home, they are extremely encouraged, by that, and become, very difficult, to ever stop, from coming around, after that. So, these things made her come across as a very silly, gullible, woman. Especially to Gerry. Which made it easy, for him, to simply write her off, as being "crazy"; especially when his own affections transferred from this mother of his 4 amazing, and beautiful, children, to the wife of one of his friends.

Gerry would write a check, to pay me with, at the end of every week. One week, he handed me my paycheck, but, he told me that it would not do me any good if  trying to cash it then, because it wasn't good for the funds. I was not really sure what he meant, at first, as I could not imagine him having me work, these really long hours, with so much responsibility for so many things, and then stiff me out of my pay, after all that! Sure enough though, I took it to the bank and they told me they could not cover it, from his account. I was upset, and told him that he'd better make good, on the money, because I certainly earned it--- and then some (being underpaid, for all my services as his nanny, as I was, because I did all the housework, and all the child care, and anything and everything else that needed  to get done for his home and family). He did make it right that time but later on, when I left the job, he never gave me my final paycheck, getting a week's worth  of work, out of me, for free. Gerry was a jerk, in my view. Sadly, that means, he was 'a typical man'; in my opinion, of his gender. I think the week he didn't have the funds to pay me in his account was the same week that he came home early telling me enthusiastically that someone talked him into ordering several custom made shirts, which he felt would make him look more affluent and sophisticated. He stood in the kitchen, modeling one for me, after he had first come home and run them through the washing machine in HOT water. He said that someone had advised him to do that so they would fit him even better. These were cotton. So, the sleeve length also shrank. He kept asking me, if that was noticeable, as if to somehow undo the damage to them, by being told what he wanted to hear. But, now, the sleeves were too short, and too tight at the cuffs, so it didn't look good on him, at all. There he stood, in the kitchen, showing me these new clothes, he had spent all this money on, that he probably couldn't afford, to begin with, and he kept tugging on the cuffs, trying to make the sleeves look long enough again. I'm not sure what he ever did with all those shirts. Gerry was a fairly small man.  In height, build, and character. But, now, his shrunken shirts were even smaller!

As he started to bring his girlfriend, his friend's wife, as he himself had described it, to me, into the family picture, more and more, I did all I could, to stay out, of that, without being rude to her when she and her daughter--- which was close to Roz's age--- were visiting. They even came for sleepovers, at times, with Gerry's girlfriend 'chastely' sleeping somewhere other than with him, during those visits. At least until the girls were asleep. When Gerry asked me if I wanted to go along on a family road trip when he was, also, including this woman, and her daughter, such as, to Hersheypark, in Pennsylvania, I declined. I spent all week, 24/7, with the girls, but on the weekends off, I had developed my own social life, outside of the family, while I was living there. I also had no desire to end up responsible for the 4 girls PLUS this woman's daughter, knowing that, Gerry would, surely, try to disappear, for awhile, to, get more 'alone time' with this woman, he was involved with. I preferred to stay home, and either, sunbathe, on the back deck, or go out somewhere, and live, my own, life, a couple of days, each week. Because I knew what was going on, from the first week there, when I confronted Gerry about his 'dirty laundry', after he had disappeared, leaving me to jump right in, to my new job, and figure things out on my own, I tried my best to stay out of the situation. It was not about me, it did not directly involve me, and I did not want to become complicit in enabling it, because I was well aware how devastating it could be, to the girls, if and when they finally figured out what was going on with their father and this woman, who was not their mother, and, was still some other man's wife. One other thing, that I really resented, about this situation, was that, when, this woman would visit Wappingers Falls (because she lived in Baltimore, Maryland at the time with her husband and daughter, as I recall), she and Gerry would dump her daughter off on me as well, even on the weekend when Gerry was home and was supposed to be caring for his own kids during that time, so that I could have  a break from that responsibility. It was, after all, his family, and his responsibility.

The woman's daughter was a very pale-skinned, red headed, delicate flower, who apparently had deadly serious allergies to 99% of the American diet due to some ingredient(s), being present, in these foods. I was incredulous, when I first found out about this--- which was the first time that Gerry and his girlfriend announced, on a weekend, that, they were going out, alone, somewhere, for awhile, and that Sarah would remain at the house, with his 4 girls. So, (1) they ADDED a child, to the 4, and left me in charge, of all 5, and (2) they gave me NO 'heads up', about this girl's, pervasively, problematic, health condition, and, (3) her mother, did not provide any special meals, for her, when they came, while knowing, full well, that this would present a huge challenge to my FEEDING THIS CHILD when MEALTIME arrived. As we stood, in the kitchen, with hunger approaching, while the girl read the full ingredient list, on food after food, that was in the house, to offer her, and she rejected each one, in turn, as something she was unable to eat, I finally said, with a tinge of frustration in my voice, that, since SHE lived with this condition of hers SHE was much more well-versed in what she COULD and COULDN'T eat; so, therefore, I would 'leave her to it', to figure out, if ANYTHING, that was available, for consumption, in this house, would be suitable for her. I personally just did not want to, stand there, anymore, after that first half hour, that I had, while another complete ingredients list was read off, by her, from another package of food; only for her to reject it as inedible. I was mad, at Gerry, and this girl's mother, for just dumping this 'problem' onto me, and going out; but, Gerry's girls, remained, with her, during the rest, of that, long, and daunting, process, since she was of an age for them to befriend one another. They let me know, about an hour later, that she had, finally, found something, that she could eat. Meanwhile, Gerry, and the girl's own mother, had escaped for their date; and I was never paid extra for additional childcare, or for overtime. It may SOUND like I am NOT a CARING person. I am a VERY nurturing caregiver. But, I am also ONE person, who has needs of MY OWN; and I INTENSELY DISLIKE being taken advantage of, or disrespected, BY ANYONE.

Sometimes, it was really hard not to tell the girls--- or, at least, Valerie, who was older than the other 3, what was really going on with all this. I did know after all. Especially, when, Val--- who was extremely observant, and aware, as a person--- would spot questionable things, herself, and seek a 'reality check' from me about what she saw--- or thought, that she saw (which was, unfortunately, accurate). I never did actually tell any of the girls any of it myself, though, as I knew it would hurt and confuse them, even more than they already were, and I loved them too much, to do that, to them. These kids were the ones that I could have continued being a nanny to, for years! They were my favorite family, that I was a nanny for (excluding Gerry, who was JUST ANOTHER JERK, in my book). After one of those road trips they all went on one weekend, Valerie came to my room to talk to me, privately, not long afterward. I was shocked and saddened to hear what she was describing to me. She said that, after a very full and tiring day at an amusement park with her dad, his female 'family friend', and her 3 sisters, they had all been headed back to Wappingers Falls in the car, after dark. Valerie said that all of her younger sisters had all fallen asleep as they headed home. But, trusting her own gut that something about this female 'friend' of her dad's didn't add up, she said that she PRETENDED, to ALSO be asleep, but she was wide awake, watching the two of them, from where she sat, in the back seat, just behind, her father. Then, she described how she had been wearing dark sunglasses, all day, and, that, she had kept them on her face, during the drive home. So, even though, Gerry could have seen her, in the rearview mirror, he would have easily thought that she was asleep, just like all the other, younger, children were. She told me about her dad, checking behind them, to make sure the children were all sleeping, because, the woman began to touch him, affectionately. Then, she suddenly disappeared from view, as if she were laying down with her head on Gerry's lap. Valerie continued, telling me that, she couldn't see, what was happening, down there, but, her dad began making some, really strange, faces, that she had not seen him do, before, as his daughter, and that, when the woman eventually sat upright, again, on the car seat, that, she was, wiping her mouth, with her hand. My heart, just sank. It was a pretty sure bet that, this child, had probably just seen her father getting a blow job. I still just couldn't bring myself to confirm the truth about their father's relationship with this woman. I couldn't inflict any of that hurt on Val, myself, if I could help it. It was, bad enough, that some of her own innocence was lost, now.

I don't know which of all these things that I have shared in this post, might have been the reason that, late one evening, after the children were all already in bed, Gerry threatened to KILL me, in a very REAL threat that he made directly toward me. I have no idea, whether it was for some action on my part that he had come to know about and was upset at me for, such as allowing Roslyn to sneak over to her grandparents' house, to spend some time with those loved ones, that, she so needed in her life. After all, by then, he could have found out about any, or all, of these things, going on, while, he was away, all week long, every single week; not only working but using that opportunity to be alone with his married girlfriend on  a regular basis, as they, both, escaped, family commitments, for this relationship between them. All I know is that one night after the girls had gone to bed, Gerry called me on the phone, and said to me, with alot of anger in his voice that, if he were HOME, right now, he would TAKE A GUN AND SHOOT ME. I could tell by the fury in his voice, at me, that HE MEANT IT, and I wasn't sure where he ACTUALLY WAS, at that moment--- how CLOSE to home, he MIGHT BE! So, I HUNG UP (this landline telephone) as SOON as he THREATENED ME and I called the Wappingers Falls POLICE, explaining that MY LIFE WAS IN DANGER. Then, I started trying, to contact Gerry's parents, who lived in the area, so that SOMEONE--- some ADULT, would BE IN THE HOUSE, with the children, at least, even though Valerie was 16. Gerry kept calling back again, and again, though, after I first hung up on him, to try to talk to me more, which I had NO intention of doing at that point. So, while,  I was trying to find and call his parents' number at about 9 or 10 o'clock at night, now, the phone would ring again, and as soon as I heard Gerry's voice I hung up on him, again. I was done with this jerk-boss of mine! Finally, I got a call through to his parents, whom I had met only once before, when I was bit on the eye by a spider, as I slept in my room, there. It swelled up, so much, that I couldn't see to drive, safely, and I needed to go to a doctor to get treated for the venomous bite. So, since the girls were at school, I called them--- Gerry's EMERGENCY CONTACT number that he had given me, and they came, and met me, and drove me to the doctor, that day. I could not call Gerry's wife's parents, who lived right next door, to come over, to be with these kids, as I fled in fear for my life, because I had no idea if he would threaten to hurt them too. I had never seen them visit his home. 

After I finally reached them, and they were on their way to the house then, I left the landline off the hook so that Gerry could not keep calling because the ringing could have awakened the children and I still had to pack up all my things and get out, FAST. I sounded breathless and frantic, as I had NO IDEA HOW CLOSE Gerry was, to coming HOME, and he had just CLEARLY STATED TO ME, that, IF he were there, he would SHOOT ME with a gun! That goes WELL BEYOND saying that you are just UPSET with someone, for something. It was a comment that I took VERY SERIOUSLY! I had only told his parents I was quitting RIGHT NOW, and that they needed to COME TO THE HOUSE of their SON and stay with HIS kids, until he got home, or someone else came there, to look after these children. So, they arrived soon after my call and by then I had already begun getting all my belongings out of the house, through the front door, and dumping them on the lawn of his wife's parent's house, next door. I knocked and asked them if I could stay there, telling them, hurriedly, what was going on, and they said I could. Except for this woman stopping by the car after the Confirmation ceremony when I had no idea who she was I had never met these grandparents of the girls. They said it was the answer to a prayer though; that the lid was being blown off what Gerry was getting away with. That THEY had been PRAYING, HARD, for GOD to DO SOMETHING, about it. That, they had BEEN LOSING HOPE, before I knocked on the door, late that night.

I was rushing, making several trips between these two houses, to get myself and my personal belongings out of Gerry's house, while his parents kept trying to get me to stand still, and explain to them, in detail, what had happened, but I didn't. They seemed to be fairly clueless, about what was going on with their son, and I wasn't about to lose my life, at this point, standing there trying to bring them up to speed. Valerie, hearing, the commotion, of me going in and out the front door, which was right above her bedroom window, came upstairs, to the livingroom, to see what was going on. I let her know I LOVED them and was LEAVING, and that  I couldn't really explain it all right then. I wasn't sure that I EVER should anyway, as I tried VERY hard to NEVER say ANYTHING disparaging, about EITHER of their parents, because . . . it was THEIR PARENTS . . . and, I KNEW how DEEPLY these  girls LOVED BOTH OF THOSE PEOPLE. So I ended up NEVER GOING INTO DETAIL with ANY of these girls, about what happened; leaving the door open for Gerry to tell them whatever truth, or lie, he would decide to say about the situation, when he got home. It did seem, that he had chosen to turn the girls against me, based on their behaviors, in the following days. The day after, I left, I saw Valerie, next door, at their house, sitting outside on the grass, with her arms over her face, as  if she were crying, or in complete despair. Roslyn came over to her grandparents' house--- where I was, now, staying--- THIS TIME, with Gerry's AWARENESS, and BLESSING, in an apparent attempt to find out, what was going on, over there, in order to report back, to her father. She brought the message, from him, that her grandmother, told me, that, I could COME OVER, TO HIS HOUSE, to PICK UP, my final paycheck, if I wanted it. There was, NO WAY, I would EVER, set foot, on HIS PROPERTY, ever again, in my life! He could shoot me, as he had threatened to do and claim, I was trespassing, or, that, I had come, uninvited and/or aggressively, toward his home, or family, and that he had killed me. I KNEW, that if he REALLY wanted to PAY ME for MY WORK, that last week, that he could EASILY have SENT THE PAYCHECK over, with Roslyn, when he sent her to their house--- NOW; after PREVENTING her, from visiting, here, before--- without, REQUIRING ME to COME AND GET IT. He had FORBIDDEN the girls to come over to this house before I left and came to stay here. It disgusted me that he hadn't cared that his kids needed their grandparents all along but that NOW he SENT them over to this house--- to SPY for him and REPORT BACK to him about me--- so they came over often, now.

I missed the girls, terribly, and loved them, deeply. But, because Gerry was doing that, and I had NOTHING GOOD TO SAY about HIM, I chose to stay downstairs, in my room, whenever the girls would come over, which had begun to be often while I was there. That was something good that had come of all this--- they got to see their grandparents again, now. I had never lied to the girls or spoken badly about their father to them. I had not told any of the girls, that this female 'family friend' was Gerry's GIRLFRIEND and ALSO HIS FRIEND'S WIFE. NONE OF THAT. The girls adored their dad, and for their sake I needed to try to keep it that way. I doubted that he had told them I left because HE threatened to KILL me either, and I didn't want to have to answer that question. Which, they SURELY would have asked me. I didn't want to make them feel I was rejecting them, when I avoided them, at all costs, now. And I knew that, especially without them hearing my side, that Gerry had likely covered over his own bad behaviors, by discrediting ME, to the girls, in some way. But, I wasn't willing to lessen their father in their eyes, even by telling them the truth, about him. So, I didn't ever come out, of the room, I was staying in temporarily, at their grandparents' house, to talk with them, after I left Gerry's house, the night Gerry threatened me. I have no idea what they were told, or led to believe, or decided to believe, about any of us--- the adults in these kids' lives.

I continued, to stay, with these good and Godly grandparents, of the girls, while I waited, for the upcoming court date, which I was subpoenaed to testify at. When the day came, I was placed under oath, and I described the effects I had seen all the parental absence having on these 4 children. I wanted to explain more about the situation because I felt that the court and those in the legal system assigned to the case that made the decisions about the girls well-being should know more about what was actually going on inside that home. The attorney on Gerry's side was apparently concerned, that I just might do that, which could compromise his client. So he sidelined the whole thing, by taking the hearing totally off track, for what it was SUPPOSED to be ABOUT, which did NOT serve these children that we were all there, regarding. He began attacking me, to try to discredit me. I wasn't at all used to testifying in court. I had only been inside courtrooms briefly, to get divorced, prior to this day. I had a tissue in my hands, which were sweaty due to nervousness, as I sat on the witness stand to the left of the judge. I kept looking down at my lap, to try, to shut it all out, to some extent, as an attempt to regain both my composure and clarity because this situation was unnerving me. Gerry's attorney therefore tried to accuse me of looking at pre-written answers, either in my hand or in my lap, that someone must have provided me to coach me, which was not true, at all. I told him that I was holding a TISSUE, and that I could NOT possibly KNOW, which question, he would ASK of me, WHEN, in order to FIND an ANSWER to it; especially, if the answers were all on some small piece of paper or on this TISSUE in my hand! It was ridiculous, desperate-seeming, discrediting, of me, on his part, and it was not a pretty experience to go through with my former boss drilling holes in me with his eyes, and his wife sitting there, with so much at stake; whose parents I was staying with, then. Especially since, I had to honestly answer that, at times, BOTH THESE PEOPLE had made their children's lives more difficult, during this divorce. I was under oath, after all, and I was trying my best to tell the truth as accurately, and objectively, as I could, in answering questions.

There was so much more information that I knew, as the former live-in nanny for this family, that I had wanted to tell the court, as an advocate for the 4 girls, and their welfare. But I was sitting on the witness stand, and limited to answering the questions, that were asked, so I wasn't able to control the direction, or therefore, the narrative, to be able to say too much of what NEEDED to be said, by ME, that day. So, sadly, ALOT of that NEVER got said. Gerry's attorney pretty much shut it down, as far as me having the opportunity to share some things, about his client, that SHOULD HAVE COME OUT as being EXTREMELY RELEVANT in this case, when he suddenly introduced a photo of me with my own son, Jay, from when he was a toddler and still in my custody as his mother, and began questioning MY FITNESS AS A MOTHER; with ME, having to NOW explain to THIS judge in THIS courtroom, what had happened, in MY marriage, with MY divorce, and how, I had transferred custody of MY, very-well-cared-for, SON, to HIS OWN FATHER, and to a wonderful STEPMOTHER so that HE could have a STABLE, LOVING, TWO-PARENT home. The hearing, about, THIS family's situation, got so off-course, with all that, and sadly, STAYED THAT WAY. So, I don't know if I was REALLY ANY HELP, with THAT, by the time it was all said and done. If I weren't, I knew that things would likely NOT be IMPROVING for the 4 girls in the middle of all this. I felt extremely sad about that. 

I NEVER FORGOT OR STOPPED LOVING those girls. I did try--- once--- to contact Valerie, directly, on Facebook, many years later; but, she never responded. I was just a very small chapter in their, overall, life story, though, I am sure. I did some research, about the family, online, this week, to prepare for writing this blog post, and from what I saw, Gerry stayed with the woman, but, didn't marry her. I don't know, what happened, to HER husband, in all this, or whether her daughter EVER outgrew all those FOOD ALLERGIES to be ABLE to EAT enough to SURVIVE in this world. A website that I saw referred to Gerry's girlfriend only as his "companion". I had always assumed that he would finally either marry, or eventually, split with, her, since SHE HAD A HUSBAND, whom SHE WAS STILL WITH, during their affair. A man, whom, Gerry had told me, was even a friend of his! Apparently, their love was real, though, and endured. It seems that the girls' mother had remarried, at some point. She was still smiling, in pictures I saw of her, online; still not looking bitter or miserable at all. I had always thought that she was more attractive than Gerry's girlfriend was, but love is blind, as they say, and the heart wants who the heart wants, for whatever, crazy, or complicated, reasons. Valerie, is very happily married and living a wonderful life; so SHE TRIUMPHED! GOOD FOR HER! Roslyn married, which I hope went well, as she faced the most challenges, of the girls, I think. Geraldine, also married. I was unable to tell whether or not her twin sister, Jacqueline, had ever married, by what research I was able to accomplish before I wrote this post. I could have continued doing more research I suppose, and likely found the answer, to that; but, it was painful, for me to 'go back, in time', among these people, again, and 'relive', that chapter, of MY life, in order to blog about it.

* NOTE: There is some debate as to whether Middle Child Syndrome is actually a real thing, but due to my experience with the attention-seeking, competitiveness, and mischief-making of my younger sister, who was a middle child, and being the caregiver for this very trying adolescent, while in this nanny job, I do believe that there is definitely enough there, to assert that this exists, and has implications in the family dynamic. Here is an article, which describes Middle Child Syndrome, in some detail. https://parenting.firstcry.com/articles/middle-child-syndrome-signs-and-tips-to-prevent-it/ 

** "Italy's unofficial religion is Roman Catholic. While it is not on paper, Roman Catholicism still plays a major role in Italian culture.  According to the book the World Trade Press  wrote about  Italy's society and culture, it mentions that 90 percent of Italians are Roman Catholic."   https://www.arcgis.com/apps/Cascade/index.html?appid=664ee086f9624c6abb9885c0d8d44d20