How My Journey Began

I have decided that I wanted to start up this blog again, for friends, and family to see what Ive gone through. I realize its going to be more helpful for even me. If you are reading this, and you are newer into my life than five years- this is my story. I’m going to try and break it down into sort of “chapters”. Its a long story, and Its a harder one for me write.

Matthew.

I met Matt when I was working at a coffee shop, and it was a whirl wind. He liked me, he was a bad boy with his own apartment. He smoked, and cursed, was so handsome, and he liked me. He actually liked me! I think I was just so infatuated with the idea that someone liked me, more than if this man was right for me. But we fell in love, and the man loved me enough to kick his party roommates out of his house, clean up his act for me to come and move in with him. This was about six months into our relationship. I moved in on July 1st, and on July 13th I found out that I was pregnant. I was terrified. What would my mom say? I was 20 and pregnant with a boy that I had only been dating for six months. I had barely moved in with him. I wasn’t even thinking about becoming a mother!! I eventually came to terms with this idea, and so did he.
     That October Matt purposed to me, and we decided we would get married after I had the baby. I wanted to make sure I was making the right decision. I didn’t want to get married because I was pregnant. I wanted to get married because I was in love with him.
 

Ryan

March 13th 2007 I became a mom. It was the scariest and happiest moment of my life. He completely changed how I viewed the simplest of things. To go from only really worring about yourself, to never ever putting yourself first again was the easiest weirdest transition I’ve ever had. And I immediately loved my mother a billion times more, and realised how much she really loved me and my brothers.
   Matt loved Ryan, but I could tell things were off. I always put Ryans first few months in the brain bank that stays dark. Those memories that are always there, but you never want to remember. Matt worked nights, and would get home around 1am. Or so. He would stay up too late, and would never wake up to take care of Ryan the next day while I was at work. I would come home on my lunch hour around 11:30 or noon, and Ryan would still be in his crib, completely soaked through in his diaper, and starving. But that boy would still have a HUGE smile on his face. Such a happy little boy. As Ryan got older, and “easier” to take care of, Matt did “better” But it was always evident to me that Ryan was kept at an arms length with Matt. I never understood it. I just thought Ryan was a mommas boy, and Matt just wasn’t that devoted doting father. He still sort of provided for us. I don’t know.

Lilly

February 1st 2012 Lilly was born and that little girl stole her daddies heart. She loved him so much, and her eyes would absolutely light up when she saw him. He transformed into this amazing man. He got a better job, spent more time with Ryan and Lilly, took better care of me and my needs. We moved into an adorable house in Garden City, Ryan was in kindergarten, and Lilly was just starting to walk. I was cooking every night, I was happy. Truly happy. I hadn’t really been for so so many years. But I knew this was my wonderful life and family. I was so happy to be Matts wife. He was my best friend, and he was a great dad. And then it was like my entire life was picked up, thrown against a wall and beaten with a baseball bat.

January 21st 2013

I remember the night before, I was on Pinterest looking up some fun recipes for Lilly’s first birthday that was a few weeks away. I was snuggled up against Matt with a blanket, both kids were asleep and we were laughing and content. It was a Wednesday, and I had a doctors appointment. I wanted to talk about how I’m not sleeping at night, and I was so overweight, and wanted to look at getting some weight loss help. While waiting for the doctor to come in, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. (I barely answer phone calls from people I know, much less a blocked number) So I declined the call.
   They left a voicemail. It was a dedective. He said “Mrs. Matysek, this is Dedectve Brumbaugh with the Garden City Police department, Please call me as soon as you can.”
   The only business I have in Garden City was my home. Had something happened to it? Matt was off that day, and he was with Lilly. Were they ok? I called Matt multiple times and he wasn’t answering. I started to panic.
   The doctor came in, and I told her what had happened, and that if my phone rang I needed to answer it. Matt called me, and was upset. I could hear in the tone of his voice that something was wrong. The police had shown up with the health and welfare department. They were taking pictures of the fridge, the pantry, our room and the kids rooms. They told Matt that he needed to call someone to get the kids, or they would have to take them in. He called my mother. I didn’t understand why this was happening. My home was clean. My kids were fed. I never beat them. I of course would spank Ryan, but why all this? Matt told me that the dedective that was there wanted to speak to me. Dedective Brumbaugh let me know that Ryan was still at school, but that they needed to meet with me. I was aloud to go and pick Ryan up, and that they would meet me there at his school.
   I hung up the phone, and just stared at my hands. For a moment I forgot that I was still sitting in the doctors presence. She very quietly and slowing looked up from her pad, and said, “Brianna, I just have to say, they usually never immediately pull children out of a home unless they feel they are in immediate danger or there are allegations of sexual abuse.” Those words always ring in my head.
   I told her well, there is no way of either of those. She prescribed me my medications, hugged me, and I drove towards Ryans school. I was shaking so violently the entire time. I couldn’t call my mom.  I couldn’t call anyone. I didn’t think my voice would work. I was terrified that I was driving toward my own incarceration. Why do they want to talk to me? Why are they meeting me at the school? None of this made any sense. I am a yeller. Maybe a neighbor had heard me yelling at Matt or Ryan. Maybe this was all because of me. I thought I was going to puke. I wasn’t sure I could walk up to the school office. But I did. I shakily opened the front doors and saw an officer, a dedective, and another woman sitting on the bench. Their faces were down. I turned the corner and walked into the office and let them know I was picking Ryan up from school. The woman behind the desks face went white, and rushed out of there. As I was waiting for Ryan, I turned and saw the dedective standing there, his tablet showing my drivers liscense picture zoomed in. He wanted to make sure he was about to talk to the right person. My heart went into my gut.
  “Brianna?” He said quietly. “Yes” I squeaked. “They are getting Ryan for you, and we need you to follow us to the Garden City Police Departement. I will be in front of you, and my officer will be behind you. Please do not start asking Ryan why we are here, and what happened today at school. If he offers you any information, please keep it calm, and act as everything is normal.”
   All I could do was shake my head in agreement.
  Here came Ryan with his giant smile. And I became and actress.

  I followed the dedective, and his officer followed behind me. I was so sick to my stomach. Looking back at this moment, I don’t remember why I didn’t try and call my mom. She could have given me some information. I don’t know why I didn’t try and call Matt, my husband. It was as if I deep down knew that I wasn’t supposed to. I think I was trapped in my head, and really wanted to listen to the officers. 

When we got into the police station they asked if they could hang out with Ryan in the lobby and give him some snacks while the dedective spoke to me. Well duh. What safer place to leave my son right? So I agreed. The dedective told me that my mom was on her way with Lilly.

What? 

If I was in trouble, she wouldn’t be coming with my daughter would she? But why was I at the police station and not Matt? Were they going to have my mother take me into a room and beat me into oblivion? Because lets be real, thats slightly more terrifying than going to jail.

I kid of course, because humor is my scapegoat.

The dedective walked me into a small room that had three chairs and a small table. In the top corner of the room facing me, was a camera. I was literally in an interrogation room. I was going to either puke or pass out.

The dedective introduced me to the woman that was now sitting down with me, and her name was Brianne. He let me know that she had interviewed Ryan at school today, and the reason we were sitting there is he has reason to believe that Ryan has been “Physically or sexually abused.” Insert loooong pause. “By his father Matthew.”

WHAT

I immediately said “Which one is it. Physically or sexually.”

The dedective voice when quiet. “Sexually.”

At this moment my brain started to do this weird thing. It fizzled and popped. It began to do its shut down. It began to lose what made sense in its tiny world.

I know the dedective told me more details, I asked more questions, I started to cry. I don’t remember a lot of this conversation. He told me that Ryan was doing something at school that a school Duty saw, questioned where in the world he learned to do that, and he responded “My daddy does this to me” And the ball began to roll. Health and welfare was called, the interviewed Ryan, and then the police. Now we are here.

A small knock at the door, and when it opened, there was my moms puffy eyed face. I absolutely lost it. She wrapped her arms around me and I bawled. I know we spoke, but again, I have lost a lot of the details of these moments. She sat there and held my hand, watched my mascara running down my face. Watched her adult daughter start to fall apart, and lose her world. I cannot imagine the amount of pain this caused my mom watching her daughter go through this much pain. They told us that she had to take my kids, and the next day we had to go to an “interview” where they would examine and speak to Ryan. I needed to go home and pretend that I didn’t know what was going on, and who was to blame. I had to go home without my children, to my husband, who is potentially a sexual abuser of my first born, and act like I didn’t know what was going on.

OOOOk.

It was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be. He was the one freaking out. I was the one shutting down. He kept asking me, “What did they say to you? I feel like you’re not telling me the entire truth.” But I could just stare at him and he would turn to his mom and keep talking. He knew what was happening. I felt like I wasn’t really there. I had hope that it was all going to be a misunderstanding. This interview was going to determine it.

The next day was the result of an ice storm. It was so cold, and you could hear cars just spinning on the street. Somehow my little bug was able to drive to McDonald’s where I met my mom with the kids for lunch. I couldn’t eat. This was the beginning of my 70 pound weight loss.

We went to this interview, and they pulled me into this room. I was sitting there with 5 or more people where they told me “We believe without a shadow of a doubt Matthew has been hurting Ryan. And he is on his way to the police station for questioning right now.”

What?

Ladies and gentleman this is where my brain did its final pop. They had to get my mom in the room. I shut down. I yelled. I hit the table. I went silent and stared at my hands. They had to speak to my mom, and tell her what the plans were, and what I was aloud to do. They told my mom what the next steps were. If they had told me, they would have told an empty shell. I spent the next few days at my moms house. I couldn’t bear to go home.

Trying to make a long story slightly shorter, Matt was sentenced for his crimes against Ryan, but they were minimal and it was plead down to a felony injury to a child. He was later convicted of 10 felony counts of child pornography, and was sentenced to ten years. He will have to register as an offender. 

Of course there is more to my journey, and I will discuss them on here. About the trails of Ryan, and of Lilly. Both very different but equal. I will try and discuss mine, but I want to try and show how every single emotion can exist in this. I had to mourn my friendship, my love, and my marriage. I had to mourn the innocents of my little boy I tried so hard to protect. I had to mourn my cute perfect little life. I had to mourn the Brianna that once existed. The Brianna that was afraid to do things on her own, and of monsters under her bed. Her monsters literally slept in them with her.

Lately Ive really been evaluating the strength of people. Are people genuinely strong? Are we all really hiding internal struggles but some of us are really good at smiling? I really wish that my heart wasn't constantly on display on my sleeve. I cannot figure out how to "work" on this trait. If something upsets me I cry. If I get angry, I cry. If I get to happy, I cry. And even if I pretend to be ok, and smile wide my huge bug eyes are screaming "Im dieing inside. Please dont ask me whats wrong. I will fall apart."

How do you fix this? Or improve on this? Is this a good thing to have? Does this make me a deep "real" person? God I just have no idea. I cannot fake happiness. I cannot fool my enemies. I am a terrible liar.

And I have been reading all these "inspirational" quotes. There are many that touch me to the core, but I wish I could really take them to heart. For instance, "If its meant to be, It will be." Well no shit Sherlock. It feels good to read, but I'm still dieing inside. How about "You deserve flowers on your doorstep and coffee in the morning. You deserve notes left on your dashboard and ice cream sundaes at 3am. You deserve honesty every hour. You deserve to be reminded how beautiful you are." Again, I read this and go, "You better believe I deserve this. I want this. Why is this such an unrealistic idea?" Its not. Its totally realistic. But I have little self esteem so when someone pays an ounce of attention to me I am a damn puppy dog sitting there wanting to lap it up. Every single drop of that attention.

"Forget How Much It Hurts And Try Again."  pff.. People do not forget pain. Except childbirth. That shit you have to forget or you wouldn't keep making babies...

It's funny how you can have those pivotal moments where things make sense.
Where you can wake up and not TRY to convince yourself that you feel a certain way, but that you actually DO feel that way.

I woke up Saturday morning and my intense rejection from him was gone. I was OK just being his friend. It was probably the snide text that he sent me, I dont know. But I am ok. And I like being his freind now. And for whatever reason I just don't have this desire or longing to have anyone at the moment. Did I just really want a best friend that talks to me all the time? Or am I that delusional that I am still so torn over this guy that I snapped and am in complete denial? I really do picture him trying to kiss me again, and I don't want it. I would push him away. I know that I would. So what is it that I want?

I don't want to be lonely. And my impeding divorce has me thinking about it a lot. I want nothing more than to be divorced. I want seperated from this man physically, mentally, and legally. I am not in love with this monster.

But do I feel like that final step will leave me utterly alone? No. Nothing will be different except a piece of legal paper that says "You are now legally unbound from this man"

I want so badly to become a recluse. To go introverted and anti social. To feel no one and nothing. To go numb and hate. Depressed. But I wont allow myself. I am going out into the world. Why though? I hate people! I hate them. And when those that hate reject me I allow them to make me feel horrid and worthless.

I know I am not alone in this. But why, especially woman do we allow ourselves to feel this way? Especially when the emotional attachment is so strong. Do we convince ourselves that we are in love? What the hell is love anymore? Everyone is so damaged and used. Everyone has these three foot thick brick walls built up around themselves and we never allow anyone to completely come in. We fear that if we give ourselves over (Or let them behind our wall) that they will not like what they see. Possibly get bored and leave. And then there we are, a shattered torn up mess because we gave them pieces, if not our entire heart. And they tore it up, threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

But If you hide behind that wall, and never let anyone in and you don't go over, how are you really in love? That doesn't make sense and I don't believe it. But you also are avoiding, and essentially succeeding at hiding from rejection. Oh and living. I believe so many of us purely hide from living. We must do what we love, with who we love or life is a waste is it not? If we sit in front of the TV thinking about all the things we want to do, we are accomplishing NOTHING. I am so guilty of this. But I have no idea on how to change it. To get off the couch when I have two kids that need constant attention and care. I have no time for myself or others that may want my attention. I want to go out into the world and live, but whenever I do I feel immense guilt. I should be home. (Even if my kids are in bed asleep) Is this a mother trait? Or a "Your a psycho" trait?

I've been trying to read and understand the dynamics of rejection. Its such a strong emotion that hits us to the core. All of us deal with it, from relationships, to jobs. I have been reading an excellent blog, that has given me some wonderful insight. (http://www.baggagereclaim.co.uk/)

At this moment I feel ok. I still don't think that almost 8 months into this nightmare that I am stable enough to handle another person in my life with the demands any relationship entails. I can barely manage any of my friendships. Luckily I have friends that do not need my constant validation or communication. They are always there when I need them and they can go months and when we talk it wasn't ever an issue.

So why am I seeking out this type of attention and validation from a man? I feel like maybe I am trying to fill this little void that is within my heart. And when you go out into the world completely aware of your void, and that all your trying to do is fill it, you will not find anything good to stuff in there. You will find toxic waste. And so far I have only proven that point. Even with my scum bag soon to be ex husband. When I was seeking, (key word here being seeking) a relationship I would settle for whatever would give me attention. Well, I got it. I got it from a very unemotional unavailable person that sucked me dry. But because I got pregnant, and convinced myself that this was what I was worth, I settled into this "I know that I can learn/or am in love with this man"

What kind of happiness is that? I know that even if he never hurt my child, and all of these stupid crazy charges had never come about that my marriage was destined to fail. I think I was just looking for the right excuse. Or I was just trying to continue to settle. It doesn't matter at this point however. He did hurt my child. He is in jail. He will stay in that jail cell for many years, and if I never see him again it will be fine by me.

Even with him sitting in that jail he has so much power over my emotions. I need to learn to let that go. He doesn't even realize that he has that power. That he himself created this massive void within my chest. And I just walk around showing it to everyone. Practically screaming at the top of my lungs and anyone who will listen- "Hey!! Look at this hole in my chest! Will you validate my self worth? Hey you! Over there! What about you? Want to try and fill this up with your attention?"

I highly doubt the men and women that I allow to fill that void will be worth it. I'm actually pretty damn sure.

I have this clean slate. This slate that has a few dents and scratches but its been bleached and cleaned and its ready. And I am the one that gets to choose who and what I place on that slate. And yet I allow the toxic mess. I really need to take my finger and push my chin up a few inches. And then walk my slate over to the trash and scrape the gunk off. If I can put my chin into the air, I might just make eye contact with someone that is looking for my eyes. What a concept? I fear and hate rejection. But these unavailable toxic men will only do that. Reject me. Because I will expect certain things from them, but I do not have the self worth, respect or strength to reject THEM.
Or so I thought.

If I can walk away with my head held high, I did just that. Rejected. Maybe not them personally, because they have already made it crystal clear that I am not for them, but I can reject the sadness. The corrosive thoughts that I allow myself to have. And all the control these men still have over me. The "lets be friends" bullshit is not something that a woman can do most times. They think that if you stay friends that eventually these unavailable men will come back around. They will, just to use you for whatever they need. String you along. And then there you are again, rejected. You gave back your power. I want it back!! But how in the hell do we get our power back?

Tuesday, August 13th, 2013

I have gone six months in this journey. Six months of emotions and general depression, anxiety, worry and fear. And I have finally made the doctor appointment to get medical help with my crazy mind. I just cannot compose my thoughts or contain my emotions the way that I feel I need to at this point. But who is really to say? These things are just not something that happen to people. There just isn't anyone in my circle that can remotely relate. So should I have been on medication this entire time? Should I wait longer? Do I really truly need to medicate myself?
Yes.
I have decided that since every little thing will set me over the edge and make me fall into a million pieces and I can no longer cope with everyday tasks, then yes. It is time. Because you know what? That horrid smell in the garbage should not reduce you to a million tears.
So far I am having to rely on a sleeping agent to just help me turn my brain off at night so that I can sleep. A lovely side effect is reduced dreams. I wonder if I can find a magical pill that can just turn my brain off during the day. Wouldn't it be nice to take a pill that predetermines what you are aloud to think of? I could be such a wealthy woman if I could invent something like that. I mean, that's where the big business is right? Haha...
The monster had ten more felony charges placed against him. Ten! I cant even imagine. He was supposed to get out the end of this month. And thankfully that will not be happening. But for whatever reason when I found out that more charges were finally being placed over his sick head, it was like I was kicked in the stomach. It was like it was happening all over again. WHY? Why did it even matter at this point? He was already in jail. It wasnt like he was being ripped out of my family again. I wasnt going through losing my home again, or having to show my face at work while everyone followed me with their eyes. So why did it effect me like it was the fist time again?

Hmm..Let me go ahead and analyze this like the woman without her pills can do so well. Because he was your husband. The man that you took vows to. The man that was supposed to hold your hand when you were sick, and tell you that everything was going to be OK. The father of your children. Their protector. Your best friend. The man that you shared your home with, and was supposed to die next to in a sweet embrace. It was a kick into the chest that knocked all the wind out because in brief little moments you have realized this man is not who you married. You have no blooming idea who he is. You look in the mirror and realize, who the fuck are you? This man sat downstairs and stared at a computer screen (The same computer that your own fingers touched and browsed the internet with) and looked at child porn. Then during the day would molest your son. And at night, when he was all good and done with these deeds he would come and snuggle up to you in bed. He would wrap his arm around you and make you feel like all was right in the world, when sweetie, nothing was right. And nothing IS right in this world.

I assume that these scenes of my life are why the wind was knocked out of me. And I stared into that mirror and felt damaged, disgusting. A used up, abused piece of trash. I still look in that mirror and feel that way. I hardly think that will go away. Especially since I have this bright idea that hey, I know I'm not in love with this monster any longer, and I'm lonely so lets go try to date and get more damaged by constant rejection and judgement. That sounds like a fantastic idea! I guess my (very few) horrid dating experiences can be saved for another time. Or another blog entirely since that seems to be quite the subject on its own. I mean, come one. Seriously? Dating. It fucking sucks. And I am no good at it. I've been told recently. Many times. Two thumbs up!