Long ago, Gary adopted a hands-off, low-contact approach with Crow. Her attention-seeking, drama-loving nonsense needed to be chopped off at the roots, and responding to only what truly warranted a response let us focus on us, on the kids, our family, and far less on her histrionics, temper tantrums, insults, and silly games.
The less Gary has allowed himself to be tugged into Crow’s drama, however, the more desperately she fights for his attention. She reminds me of an overindulged toddler hurling herself onto the floor because no one is looking at her. Even if she succeeds in only calling attention to her childishness and pettiness, at least she has still garnered attention, and that appears to be the important part to her.
The less attention Crow gets, the more her stalking behavior kicks into overdrive. I have noticed it escalating the last few weeks, and finally, last night, she exploded.
Crow set up the computer to my blog and sat Wolverine down in front of it. There was no link to my blog from another site, no search for my blog, but rather a direct path right to my blog’s home page, as clearly evidenced by my web analytics program. Wolverine did not simply stumble across it; he was forcibly steered to it. After half an hour of guiding him through the archives of my blog, Crow then had Wolverine call Gary to tell him he doesn’t like what I wrote.
Crow has kept many blogs over the years, and all of them were full of whimsical, fantastical tales about me and Gary. I have never, and never would, plop one of the kids in front of the computer and command them to read the gibberish their mother tapped out in a spiteful binge of her ongoing hate. Why would I? What would it accomplish? What benefit would the kids derive from that?
These are questions Crow did not bother to ask herself, and that doesn’t surprise me.
Then again, the kids wouldn’t be at all startled by any of the blogs crafted by their mother. They would just repeat all the filth she spills into their ears on a daily basis. The kids are fed a steady diet of their mother’s animosity, jealousy, and self-fed rage about their father and me. Seeing it repeated in print on a computer screen would only be redundant and boring.
The kids have never heard me put their mother down, however. They are not forced to listen to my personal feelings about her, because it is not their responsibility to hear it. Therefore, I imagine it really is far more shocking for the kids to read my words versus hers. They have had lies shoved so far down their throats, they are too busy choking to question anything. The plain truth, stripped bare, is raw and painful for them.
Setting up the kids to complain about my blog is another attempt by Crow to push her alienation attempts and to pitifully beg Gary and me to pay attention to her. She hasn’t been able to whine in court lately, or compose nasty emails, or file lies with her lawyer. So she had to grab one of the kids to serve as her lightning rod and stir up unnecessary drama.
And if Wolverine is hurt, confused, and manipulated in the process…? Crow didn’t concern herself with that, either.
There is not one word on my blog that is not true. I write about what happens, and if I’m not happy about what Crow does to the kids, how she hurts them and uses them, that is my right. No one who loves the kids would not be angry about it.
I am deeply sorry that what I write is, indeed, true. I wish I made this stuff up. I wish the kids weren’t hurt like they are. I am sorry that what I write is merely the tip of the iceburg and barely scratches the surface of what Crow considers acceptable to do to the kids. I am sorry that years of hurting the kids have not been stopped by a judge, the family law system, a police officer, or by Crow herself. I am sorry the kids have cracked and nearly broken beneath the burden of her manipulation, spitefulness, desire for revenge, and refusal to think of them above herself.
But I am not sorry that I have recorded the truth, or my feelings about what has happened and continues to happen. I do not subscribe to the notion that if I just stop writing, the kids will be all right. No, they won’t. Not until the abuse and the hurt stop, and the only person who can stop that is the person inflicting it.
Not being angry about the way the children are used, manipulated, bent and broken, is something I would be incredibly ashamed of. Being truthful, honest, and forthright, by contrast, is something of which I will never be ashamed.