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The Husband–The Gift That Keeps on Giving

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma sells insurance.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

The Husband—The Gift That Keeps on Giving

My last couple of posts were about Moving Madness and how I missed some personal items that I never got after Phill threw me out of our home. Of course, having just bought a home, I miss a LOT of the practical items that I could use such as furniture and such too, but wouldn’t you know, after writing, I received an e-mail from Phill:

I really don’t want to throw out your personal belongings, although in five+ years you’ve never attempted to get them.

I’ve rented a small storage unit at Jackson Self Storage, 489 Zion Church Rd, Braselton, GA 30517. I’ve moved all your personal belongings into it and will mail you a key tomorrow. There are somewhere between 15 and twenty boxes. I put all the heavy ones as low as possible. Take what you want, and when the lease expires at the end of June I’ll dispose of the rest. That gives you a full month to go through everything.

 Unit……………………….

Phill

Storage101

26 years of marraige, and I’m only allowed my personal items such as clothes, books, etc. according to my wonderful husband.  And let’s not make it easy to go through.  Just cram it all in there.

So, if you’ve read the blog over the past several years, you know that I have told Phill multiple times to go ahead and get rid of my things, do whatever he wants with them, I didn’t care. Yes, there were some things I wanted, but it just wasn’t that important to me. It wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t coming to get my stuff. I was living in a very small furnished house and didn’t have room for anything. It’s ok, honey. Just get rid of it. Do whatever makes you happy.

Are you wondering if Phill has a guilty conscience? He threw me out of our home April 7, 2011, and has held on to my things for 6 years now? Even after I told him he could get rid of my things, and even after having his esteemed attorney, Bradley D. Moody of Lee Sexton and Associates P.C., graduate of Atlanta’s John Marshall Law School, son-in-law of Matt Klos, husband of Jessie Klos Moody, father to cute little little Ella Moody, who signs his letters with his Bar#655693, send me a letter about having a third party pick up my things (because Phill is too much of a coward to face his wife) and of course, as most attorneys like to bully people, Mr. Bradley D. Moody, Esq., also had to threaten me with storage charges for Phill keeping my things. (Don’t worry Mr. Bradley D. Moody, one thing Emma taught me is to document well, and I have the e-mails from YEARS ago where I told Phill he could get rid of my things.)

Sometimes, during our 26 year marriage, I would joke with Phill about his passive aggressive streak. Phill is a perfectionist about a lot of things. If he cared about doing something, he would do it right. He would research and read about how to do something before tackling it, and do every little detail to make it right.

Phill would also freely admit he was a procrastinator.   I didn’t really mind that because I didn’t care about most stuff, but it did bug me when he would tell me he was going to do something, even though I didn’t ask him to, and then he wouldn’t follow through. I would ask him to not tell me he was going to do something if he really wasn’t. That did aggravate me. “Just don’t tell me, so I won’t be expecting it.”

Then, if I did remind Phill about something told me he would do, he would do it, but not do the typical good job he did on things. Later, I would joke with him that his passive aggressive side was showing.  It was always very clear if Phill was doing something willingly or grudgingly.

Procrastinator

When someone shared this on FB, I had to laugh.  It is sooo Phill!

Well, Phill’s passive aggressive side is showing again.

I wasn’t sure I even wanted to bother, but I went to the storage unit where Phill dumped my things. First off, he rented the smallest unit he could, so everything is crammed in there, and I can’t go through it without pulling everything out, and some of the boxes are too heavy for me to lift and put back. Most of the stuff is ruined, so I don’t want it, and I’m certainly not going to drag it home.

Mouse turds

A box of books with other things thrown in.  You can see some dead cockroaches and all the little turds.  Ummmm,  No thanks, I won’t be bringing these home..

cat dollThis was a sweet little cat figure Phill bought me, early in our marriage, when we went to visit a shop in Sandy Springs Ga. that was on his UPS route at the time.  This was a Christmasy cat and I got another one in a pink dress, but I haven’t found that one.  This one was thrown in with a box of books, not packed carefully at all, and you can see one of the little turds on the apron.  Ummm, thanks anyway honey, but I don’t really want all this nasty stuff you left me.   

I don’t know if Phill or Emma did the packing, but while some clothes were put in a wardrobe box, others were thrown in garbage bags. I brought a few things home in a garbage bag that I thought I might want, but once I got home, there were bugs in among the clothes, so they didn’t even come in the house. Most of them smelled bad, I guess from having sat out in the garage for 6 years. If I hadn’t worn it in 6 years, I probably don’t need it now.

I opened a couple of boxes and found things thrown together. Fragile things were thrown in boxes of books. Some of the boxes were full of roach and mouse turds, and a lot of things were ruined from either the mice, bugs, or the heat and humidity. It was gross. Thank goodness I had some hand sanitizer in the car.

I do have a question for Bradley D. Moody, attorney at law of Lee Sexton and Associates P.C., son-in-law of Matt Klos, husband of Jessie Klos Moody, father to cute little little Ella Moody, who signs his letters with his Bar#655693. Mr. Moody, since you were threatening me with storage charges for Phill keeping my things, even though I told him years ago that he could get rid of my things, wasn’t Phill supposed to do his due diligence and take proper care of my things? I mean, really!

Another interesting note, was some things that Phill took back, the ol’ Indian Giver. I had an old uniform with a white apron, and I kept it in the closet and kept my pins on the white apron. I had saved almost all of Phill’s UPS Safe Driving pins that he GAVE me.  He didn’t want them. I think there were 23 or so at that point, and when I found that uniform with the apron, the UPS pins were gone. At some point, early on, I had asked for the pins and told him I wanted to keep those UPS pins, but I guess I’m not entitled to them now that I’m the ex-wife. I hope Kim Chassion enjoys them. (I don’t know if Phill and Kim have married yet, but Phill needs to be married. I’ll write more about that later.)

Pins

What was left of my pin collection, or I guess I should say, what Phill allowed me to have of my pins.

I guess I will go back and go through a few more things. I’m not sure it’s worth the bother, but there are a few mementos I would like to have if I stumble upon them.

Thank you, Honey.  You’re a Peach.  Oh, wait, you’re from New Jersey.  Maybe I should say, “You’re a Silver Queen Corn.”  You shouldn’t have. I mean, you really shouldn’t have. Really.

SilverQueenPhillMy Silver Queen, Phill.  I’m sort of seeing the resemblance.

Moving Madness and Why I Gave Phill Our Home

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma sells insurance.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Moving Madness and Why I Gave Phill Our Home

Once again, I was thinking of some of the things I don’t have.   The other day, I was talking to some friends about trying a recipe, now that I have a decent kitchen. (My rental house had a very small counter, and not a lot of kitchen space, and I’ve worked two jobs for the past 5 years, so I didn’t cook much. And besides, Phill has all my kitchen dishes, pots, pans, tools, etc.)

So I was talking to friends, and said, “Oh, wait. I can’t make this yet. I need a rolling pin and a baking sheet before I try it.” Darn that Phill. He got all my stuff, and thinking about trying a recipe just means more work because not only do I have to shop for the groceries, but the cookware as well.

I’m still settling in. That will take a while. I don’t have much furniture, so I don’t have places to put things. Phill has all our old dressers, armories, entertainment center, book cases, night stands, chests, china cabinet, my desk, my office chair, etc., etc., etc. He did let me have one dresser and a $10 cheap book case he got at Office Depot or Office Max and had stuck in the garage to get rid of.

I bought a smallish antique chifferobe from a friend just because I liked it and could use it, and they were moving and getting rid of some things. Well, wouldn’t you know, we locked the door on the chifferobe when I moved away from crazy neighbor, and then when I went to open it, the key broke with a piece falling inside the lock! I could really use to have that space to put a few things, and I can’t get to it! Just my luck!

I found a site where I could order a bunch of antique keys and I think one of them will work, and then found out they are out of stock and won’t have more keys for about a month. Fortunately, other than to get my rain jacket, which is locked in the chifferobe, there’s nothing in there that I’m desperate for.

So the boxes sit.

I had a beautiful home with Phill. If you want to google it, it was 284 Buck Trail, Hoschton, Ga. 30548.  Even more than our home, I loved the almost 2, mostly wooded acres we had. I spent many hours out in the yard, clearing growth and cutting some of the wild stuff down so we could walk through it. I have always been a dog person, and I loved having a big, fenced-in backyard for the dogs. Later on, Phill built me some agility equipment, and I even though I never wanted to compete in agility, I enjoyed having the dogs run through some exercises on the equipment. I had taken our dog, Little C to agility classes for about a year. It was so much fun, and he loved it, too. Later on, Emma and I took, Benny, one of our foster dogs, to agility too.

Now I have an overgrown back yard that needs a lot of work, and I guess sooner or later I will get to it. I’m not really in a hurry, but I would like to do something with it to get the Georgia clay under control. I either need to terrace the yard, and maybe put down some gravel, or plant some ground cover to cover up all this clay. I don’t want my current little buddy dragging it into the house.

Phillgarden

I thought after Emma was grown, Phill and I would get to a lot of the things we’d talked about doing around the house and yard. Neither of us were real gardeners, but we’d talked about taking a Master Gardener course and as limited as our knowledge was, we had things we thought about doing to fix up the yard. Phill wanted to put in a pond, and I understand he put in an outdoor tv area or some such thing after he dumped me.  Someone told me about it, but I don’t remember what it was. Me, personally, I go outside to get away from that stuff, so I probably wouldn’t have cared much for it, but you know men and their TVs. They like to have them everywhere. I always thought it was kind of funny because Phill wanted TVs everywhere or wanted whatever was new out on the tv scene, and I would say, “Why?” We didn’t watch much television, so I never understood his fascination with wanting the latest and greatest or all his ideas for having TVs everywhere. One thing he wanted to do was have a tv at the end of our bed that recessed into the floor. I will say that when Phill went out and bought a flat screen tv, even though he’d just bought a HUGE tv a couple of years before that he just had to have and got up to go stand in line at a Black Friday sale, I did notice how sharp the picture was. One of the night time talk shows was on, and I think it was Jay Leno talking to Reese Whitherspoon, and I said, “Wow. I can read what’s on the coffee mug.” and Phill beamed, the proud hunter who brought home the prized, elusive, tv. (I think this TV was another Black Friday deal too, if I remember right.) I also remember the gorgeous Reese Whitherspoon had some “back fat” in the beautiful black, strapless gown she wore and thinking, if someone that beautiful has back fat, there is no hope for the rest of us Plain Janes.

I was never much of a decorator, and I had just discovered pinterest right before Phill had me thrown out of our home, so I think, had Phill not thrown away our marriage, I might have gotten ideas for decorating and making our home prettier. I was never good at that sort of thing and needed (still need!) some help. I have a few things I’m good at, but decorating is not one of them.

Phillsuit

Phill Roey, my sweet, geeky, introverted (until he became an RC air plane nut) husband.  Phillip Thomas Roey, Phill Roey

We bought our Hoschton home in 1995, and I thought we would live there until we were brought out of the home feet first.  I never wanted to go through the whole moving ordeal ever again! Every once in a while, Phill would talk about retiring in the N. Ga. Mountains, or some place like that, but I didn’t think he was too serious about it.

I know some of my readers have been through a divorce, or some other horrible life circumstances, and people have asked me why I let Phill have the house. Well, I will tell you and it’s pretty simple. Even after throwing me out of our home and taking off, traveling around the country flying RC planes, acting like a responsibility-free teenager while his family was falling apart, I always thought Phill would do the right thing.  I still believed in my husband.

I knew Phill would not be able to deny Emma’s lies forever. Emma and I might have argued a lot, and maybe I yelled too much (he always joked about how she loved to push my buttons), but he knew I didn’t not abuse my daughter. Emma lied about being molested, about her friend who was NOT raped, and did NOT try to commit suicide, and Emma lied about so many other things and even lied about Phill. Emma lied about being poisoned with DDT and even lied about Tyler’s family. (But the poor boy still married her. I fear the future is not so bright for that marriage.) Sooner or later, the man that I loved, was going to have to come to his senses, face the truth, and stand up for his family.

I could have forced Phill to sell the home, but I didn’t. I couldn’t afford the home and didn’t even have a job yet. I’d been out of my field for 17 years and had to take a course to return to the job market, and even then, let me tell you, not too many people are interested in interviewing someone who hasn’t worked in their field in 17 years. I’d come from the pen and paper days and all of a sudden I was filling out application after application on line and wondering if anyone even read them. There was no way I could afford the mortgage or even the utilities to our Hoschton home. Besides looking in my field, I applied for jobs at places like Home Depot, Target, PetsMart, Doller General, and a couple of jobs as a veterinary assistant. No one at those jobs wanted to hire me because I was over qualified, but I couldn’t get an interview in my field because I’d been out of work for so long.  It was a horrible position to be in.  I thought I’d never get a job.  One of the jobs I interviewed for told me they wouldn’t hire me because they knew I would leave for a better job as soon as I could. After having been a housewife for so long, I was scared.  I cried buckets mostly over the loss of my marriage and family, but also because my future was looking pretty bleak.  No one wanted me as an employee, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.

Phill had to pay me a few years of alimony, and he got our home. What else could I do?

I believed in my husband, but I was wrong. I’ll write a little more about this when I finish up writing about the death of my marriage, but that pretty much sums it up. I thought my husband was a better man and he would do the right thing. I was wrong.  I bet on the wrong horse.  Instead, Phill traveled around the country, flying RC planes, acting like a teenager, drinking beer with his buddies, and got a girlfriend.  The man that I had always believed in, who I believed would do whatever he had to to take care of his family, failed with flying colors.  I guess if you’re going to do something, even if it’s something horrible, do it spectacularly, and go down in a blaze of glory.

Moving Madness

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma sells insurance.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Moving Madness

As most of you know, I moved recently. I wasn’t planning on moving and really didn’t want to buy my own place, but because of the crazy neighbor situation which was getting kind of scary. (There is a lot I did not talk about in the blog, and I am still working on typing up pages and pages of notes of the craziness.) I don’t know if I will share the entire story on the blog, but because of the craziness, and I think this man could still be dangerous, I wanted to type up all my notes, just in case I might need them at some point. Lord only knows, I wish I’d kept notes on all Emma’s nefarious activities. I did keep some notes on her vomiting, but Phill has those.

Back in the fall, I think it was, when Phill had his (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) “attorney” Bradley D. Moody of Lee Sexton and Associates P.C., son-in-law of Matt Klos, husband of Jessie Klos Moody, father to little Ella Moody, who signs his letters with his Bar#655693 ……………. Mr. Bradley D. Moody sent me a letter on Phill’s behalf wanting me to pick up the few things Phill was allowing me to have out of our Buck Trail home in Hoschton, Ga., and Mr. Bradley D. Moody went so far as to threaten me with storage charges because Phill had my things, oh, and I needed to send a 3rd party because my husband couldn’t face me showing up at our Hoschton home. (I am THAT scary 😉 Anyway, I told Phill he could donate my things to whatever charity he choose. I was not coming to get them. I was renting a furnished house and had no where to put things, and to be honest, the thought of having to go through the things Phill was allowing me to have, and deciding what to keep and what to get rid of would have been so painful, I just preferred not to do it.

Were there things I wanted, yes, of course. There were a lot of personal things, photos, letters, yearbooks, books, mementos, things that meant something to me that Phill would have not even known why they were important to me. There was an antique framed poem that a friend, who has since passed away, had given me that hung on our bedroom wall. There was my childhood postcard collection, many of which came from my grandmother (as in belonged to her, so they were really old), and there were little things I’d gotten from the countries I lived in growing up, as well as our Christmas ornaments (I’m sure Kimberly Chassion is not going to want any part of the ornaments Phill and I accumulated over 26 years of marriage.) There were the glass animals that I had collected when we lived overseas, and the sweet notes Phill had written me over the years, some with little cartoon drawings. (Phill wasn’t much of an artist, but I loved the sentiment.) Phill wouldn’t let me have Emma’s baby photos, so those wouldn’t have been in there.

I think you can get the gist of what I’m saying. All you have to do is look around your home and think of all the little things you have that mean something to you.

In another way though, I lost everything that was important to me. I lost my husband and my daughter. I lost my marriage. I lost my identity. I was no longer Phill’s wife, Emma’s mom, a UPS wife, a boring housewife, etc. And when you lose everything, stuff isn’t that important. Yes, there are things I miss, and sometimes something will pop into my head that I wish I had, and it breaks my heart that it is gone forever, but then again, it is just stuff.

Unfortunately, buying a home, I realize how much stuff I DON’T have. If you look at our old insurance statement to the Buck Trail home, I think Phill had our possessions insured for about $160,000, if I remember right. I will have to dig up that statement. Phill knows he owes me a furnished house, but he’s still living in denial, so I don’t expect him to help me out, and I don’t think I would receive a warm reception if I called him up and said, “Hey, Honey, can I borrow our drill, the mower, the chainsaw, a ladder………..?” Or, “Can I borrow the truck to go down to IKEA for a bed?” “Or what about all those computer you had, honey? And the three or four printers?” I did ask Phill for a television, when the one he gave me died after about 3 months. I didn’t even ask for a good one. We had an old monster of a tv in the garage that he just had to have one Thanksgiving, but then a couple years later he just had to have a flat screen, so that big monster sat out in the garage. I asked him for that one, knowing he didn’t care about it, but he ignored my request. What a Peach. Oh, wait, Phill’s from Brick, New Jersey. He’s definitely not a peach.

I have no tools, (Ok, I bought a hammer and a screwdriver.) no mower, no shovel, rake, hedge trimmers, weed wacker, sheets, towels, dishes, silverware, ect. I bought a mattress and box springs last year, but the bed belonged to my landlord. Phill had the complete advantage by throwing me out of our home. He had all the “stuff” and doled out only what he allowed me to have. I didn’t even have a blanket or comforter for my bed because when I had asked Phill for the blanket that was in my closet and a comforter, he wouldn’t bring them to me. The things I used at the rental house belonged to my landlord, and fortunately, it’s been warm, so sleeping under the sheet has been enough for now, and then today, a friend gave me a nice comforter, so I will have it when I need it. Some other friends gave me a sofa and chair, and I’m shopping for some used furniture. I’m not in any hurry. I don’t plan on moving again, and I need so much, I figure I have plenty of time. (Of course, when we moved to our Buck Trail, Hoschton home, I thought I would never move again. Little did I know what my husband was capable of.)

I still have no mower, but I hired someone to cut the grass.  I did buy a shovel though.

Moving alone has been quite an adventure, and you find out who your friends are when you have to move. I was so lucky to have friends and family who helped me move, gave me some things, and for some coworkers who rearranged their schedules to work for me. I didn’t realize I was supposed to work my last weekend in the rental house, and I had friends coming with a trailer to help me, and as soon as one of my coworkers said, “Aren’t you working this weekend?” Three of my coworkers offered to cover for me. I didn’t even have time to worry about it. It was taken care of.

Phill always set up stuff like the internet, so I had to do that, and it took me three weeks #windstreamsucks, but I got it done. After dealing with Windstream, I had about decided that I could just go down to the library a couple of times a week and live without internet, but it’s nice to have. When my 12 months is up though, I may change to satellite. After what Windstream put me though, trying to get established, I HATE them. It’s kind of funny because when I was asking around, trying to find out what my options were, I found that Windstream pretty much has the monopoly in my area, and I can’t tell you the number of times I heard, “And they suck.”

With all this chaos, I had a few days off, so took the last 5 days to go visit a friend in another state that I hadn’t seen in a while, and the next couple of weeks I am working some extra, so I will be pretty busy, but I wanted to share some thoughts today.

Dear readers, I have a lot more to say. I wanted to finish, “Death of a Marriage” and I still have Emma’s vomiting issues to tackle. Let me know if there’s anything else you want to hear about. As always, send your comments or questions to me at: losingemma@gmail.com

 

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma has a career in sales.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

May 14, 2017

Mother’s Day

motherpin

This is my 7th Mother’s Day without my daughter. I had 16 Mother’s Days with Emma, and actually the 16th was pretty lousy, so I really had 15 good Mother’s Days with my daughter. It was just before that 16th Mother’s day,of 2010 that I had had told my sister in Ct. about Emma’s accusing the priest of sexual molestation. I think that was about the time Emma really began to hate me. I remember picking her up in the car and telling her that I had spoken with her aunt, and Emma was so furious she wouldn’t even speak to me. We were planning a trip to go visit, and my sister and brother-in-law would know something wasn’t right, so I felt I had to tell them. Emma’s control-freak, micro-managing mother was taking things too far, talking to police, counselors, family, friends, etc. The snowball was rolling down hill and picking up speed. All Emma wanted was attention, and she didn’t want the church, the police, the therapists, DFACS, multiple therapists involved. Well, actually, Emma did like some of the attention. She just wanted to pick and choose which attention she received. She loved her hour with the therapists where she had their undivided attention all focused on her for an entire hour. I remember when Emma was middle school age, and Phill kept calling her a drama queen. I thought he was overreacting a little bit to what was a typical pre-teen girl. Maybe he was, but it turned into what Phill used to call a “self-fulfilling prophesy” and Emma became that drama queen that he so often said she was. (And on the flip side, Phill became that dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks-dad that Emma always claimed he was.)

Mother’s Day was usually a quiet holiday in our home. We didn’t do big exciting gifts. Phill might get me some flowers and take Emma out to get me a small gift. That was fine. It was more the attention from Emma, when she was little, that made it a special day. She would hug me multiple times in a day and tell me “Happy Mother’s Day” over and over again. That was what made is special. Or just doing something together was what made it special. Phill might cook me dinner, and do the clean up, and that was a nice treat as well.

I was pretty disappointed in my 2016 Mother’s Day. Emma wanted to play for the Mother’s Day Fashion show after church. She loved all the attention she got for playing the piano, and that was fine. All I had asked for was that afterwards, we have an afternoon at Ft. Yargo, the local state park. I didn’t assume I would have to spell it out, but what I’d meant was a hike and a cookout at the park. For whatever reason, Phill was particularly dense and didn’t bother to get things together for the cookout, and Emma was sulky and sullen, a total non-joy for the afternoon, although at times, she’d put on her fakey smile and pretend like she was enjoying the day. My mother’s day gift from Emma was some candy from the dollar store. No thought or effort involved. I don’t think Emma even got or made me a card that year. Yep, definitely not a banner day.

If you have teenagers, you know how self-centered they can be, and I sure felt like an afterthought, but I knew that was typical for a kid Emma’s age. Occasionally, she could be so sweet and thoughtful, and then on a special day like Mother’s Day, Emma went to absolutely no trouble at all. I was disappointed, but thought that was a typical teen. There were other times, when Emma did something special for me, or was out and brought me home a little something when she was out, which showed me she did think of me, or did appreciate me. One of the sweetest things Emma ever did was to be nice to me when I had a migraine.

I suffered from migraines for years and would go lie in the darkened bedroom with the pillow over my eyes, and Emma would come in and hold my hand and always want to make me a cup of tea. Often times, I was nauseated and really didn’t want the tea, but Emma loved to do it for me, so I took it and thanked her and sipped on it. It was those things she did with love that meant so much to me.

Mother’s Day is difficult for a lot of women, and men too. Some people have lost their mothers. Some couples struggle with infertility and don’t know if they will every be parents. Some mothers have children far away in the military, or in prison, or just far away in another country. And many mothers have children like Emma, who are estranged or mentally ill or on drugs. The internet makes the world a very small place, and I’ve found that many mothers (and fathers) are dealing with the same thing that I have endured for the last 7 years.

I’m sorry Emma has turned out like she has, but I still had the joy of being a mother. The first few years were amazing. How I adored my precious little girl. When she was a baby, it seemed like whatever I did, I did with her in my arms or on my hip. When she was preschool age, I was still the one she wanted to help her with things or to kiss her boo-boos. It’s funny how you go from being that “My mom can do anything” kind of mom to the “My mom is so stupid” kind of mom in the blink of an eye.

In Emma’s case, I think homeschooling was a mistake. Someone pointed out to me that Phill and I didn’t want to see that there was a problem with Emma, and we didn’t realize how much she lied. This person mentioned that other kids would have caught on to Emma pretty quickly and she wouldn’t have been able to pull off a lot of the lies that she did. Kids her own age would have been a lot more savvy than her parents who were blinded by the love for their daughter. Of course, that has also made me wonder if it could have made Emma even worse, and maybe she would have turned into an even better liar had she attended school and been around other kids, some of who were probably just as devious as our sweet Emma.

But, for some people, homeschooling is amazing, and I did get to see some glimpses of that. It was amazing to see Emma grow and learn, and when she really was interested in a topic, seeing her research it on her own. Homeschooling sort of opened up the world to teach one that we are learning all the time, not just until 2:45 when school lets out.

I know for some kids, pulling away is normal. Just before going off to college, kids can be so obnoxious and unpleasant, that the parents want them to go away, and it helps the kids to break away and become more independent. Of course, most kids don’t go to the extreme that Emma did, lying about sexual abuse, accusing a priest, making up stories about a fake suicide attempt, lying about a friend’s mother’s illness, lying about her own mother…

I was reading some books recently and wondering if Emma had read them. We used to have a lot of good discussions about books. I miss that. Other times, I think how I was that boring “mom” and I was just a mom, the lowest of the low in Emma’s eyes. I’m lucky now that I have job I like, and working with the public, I definitely acquire some stories about work, and I miss being able to tell Emma about things, like when I worked at Master’s Academy and we would talk about our classes. Sometimes something will happen at work and I’ll think that instead of that boring introverted mother, Emma might actually think I was cool, and maybe now she wouldn’t look down on her ol’ boring mother. I wish we could talk and I could hear about her job selling insurance. How did she choose to go into this field? It’s a long way from the pediatrician my little girl wanted to become, not that that’s a bad thing. Most of us don’t choose our career when we’re in the 2nd grade. I would love to know how Emma became an insurance agent? Did she finish college or does she plan on it? I’m assuming Tyler is working on his Master’s, only because I’d always heard that you couldn’t really do much with a B.S. Architecture, even from a school like Notre Dame.  Does Emma like her job?  She does have the personality to make a good salesperson, I think.  I would think all her drama classes would contribute to convincing people to buy insurance too.

I was also thinking lately about how lucky I am that at least I know Emma is not alone out in California. She is married and with Tyler, so it does give me some comfort knowing my daughter is not in this big bad world all alone. I’ve known several people who are or were the parents of addicts and often (sometimes for years) had no idea where their children were or if they were even alive. As bad as this whole experience has been, I know it could be worse. At least I know Emma’s safe and not living on the streets somewhere.

So, for all you Mothers out there who are the parents of those “nightmare children,” just know that you are not alone. We may life in the shadows, because we have that child that we can’t brag about, and we are that mom that no one wants to be, but we are still moms, and just because our baby has taken a very bad turn, they are still our baby. Some kids will turn their lives around, and give their mom that happy ending. Others will go on whatever destructive path they have chosen, and they may have broken your heart, but you’ve survived. We mothers are a tough bunch.

Collateral

Lots of Love to you, dear readers. You can contact me through the website or e-mail me at losingemma@gmail.com

 

 

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma has a career in, ummmmm, sales.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Thank you Emma-fans for your thoughts and encouragement during my move. It has been (and still is) a chore, but I’m getting there. So much to do, but I am thankful to be out of the crazy neighbor situation.

One thing Emma taught me was to take lots of notes on strange situations, and that I did. I will have to transcribe them and write the whole story out, but to give you an idea of what was going on, it started when my 83 year old landlord decided his wife 77 year old wife was having an affair with our 47 year old GAY neighbor.

How does that involve your heroine here? Well, I’m not sure. It started to involve me when Mr. 83 started calling me and coming over to talk to me and complain about Gay Neighbor (GN), his wife, his wife’s friendship with GN, his mariage, etc. I assured Mr. 83 that nothing was going on, but he would not listen. GN was a fine neighbor. I had nothing to complain about. He was quiet and worked at home, so it was nice knowing there was someone keeping an eye on things. We’d all gotten together a few times at GN’s house or at 83’s house, and I thought everyone got along fine. Mrs.77 and I had gone over to GN’s a couple of times for dinner and a movie, but all these events were over the course of a year, so it’s not like we were hanging out with him every night.

Mr. 83 all of a sudden seemed to turn on GN. Mr. 83 has a grown son who is gay, and it didn’t sound like he handled that very well, so GN suspected it was when Mr. 83 realized GN was gay that he began having issues. Things escalated and Mr. 83 went over screaming and threatening to kick GN’s ass, ect., and when Mr. 83 would not leave, GN called the police. All I could think about Mr. 83 was, “You are 83 and you walk with a cane. You are NOT kicking anybody’s ass!”

Somehow, Mr. 83 decided I was involved and told me that I was either too stupid and naive to know what was going on or else I was complicit in his wife’s affair. Huh? He told me that GN was either after his wife sexually or for his (Mr. 83’s money—–I found it interesting that it was HIS money and not THEIR money.)

Mr. 83 wanted to “bust up” the friendship between his wife, GN and me. I asked him what the heck he was talking about as I’d seen GN twice in the previous month, and Mr. 83 went on to complain about all my transgressions such as collecting GN’s mail when he was out of town. I was dumbfounded, but reminded Mr. 83 that I collected HIS mail when he and his wife were out of town, that’s just kind of what neighbors do. Mr. 83 complained that I was more his wife’s friend than his (True, but I did remind Mr. 83 that I would not tolerate it if I thought his wife was behaving badly.), and one of the most bizarre things was when Mr. 83 asked me about GN’s home gym. Did I know GN was building a home gym? How did I know that’s what it was?

stick figure boy exercising with weights

I explained to Mr. 83 that GN was indeed building a home gym because he’d showed me where he was painting and the industrial carpeting he was putting down in the room, and I saw with my own two eyeballs, the box that said “Home Gym” on it.

Then, Mr. 83 explained to me that GN was not building a home gym, but had a SEX ROOM. (You can’t make this stuff up.) Ok, so being a boring basic white bread kind of girl, at first I had no idea what Mr. 83 was talking about. Two days later, the whole thing seemed pretty funny, but it was not funny sitting there, for almost an hour, listening to Mr. 83 go on and on because I was too polite to say, “Ok. You’ve evicted me. You can leave now.” The bizarreness of it was like Emma Kate Roey Buchheim all over again. What the heck? I went around for a week dazed by all the craziness. Like Emma, I did not want to see that there was a problem with Mr. 83. He was someone I’d been close to for the past 6 years, and I looked up to him in a fatherly sort of way. It took a while for me to admit there was something very wrong, whether physically or mentally, with Mr. 83, beyond a little jealousy.

Later on, the Mrs., told me that Mr. 83 was carrying his gun back and forth from their other home. Mr. 83 had told me when he was over that was sleeping about 2 hours a night, and his wife told me he was following her around so he could keep a close eye on her. Once, when the Mrs. asked me to help her with something on the computer, I went over, and Mr. 83 would not leave us alone, and kept coming in the room to check on us. I’d done this kind of thing with the Mrs. many times over the years, and Mr. 83 had never acted like that before.

Mr. 83 was also calling his wife a whore and a slut, calling me a bitch, and I won’t even mention the gay slurs he was calling GN. I began sleeping with a chair under the doorknob so that someone would not be able to get into my house easily.

Mr. 83 even had an attorney write a letter threatening to sue GN for things like the dissolution of his marriage, and colluding with his wife to murder him, but the letter stated Mr. 83 was willing to settle thing amicably for a quarter of a million dollars. Funny thing was, at the time he sent the letter, he was still married, so it really seemed as though Mr. 83 was attempting to blackmail GN, but that’s just my Legal-for-Dummies opinion.

Oh, and if you’re wondering about the “murder” part, the Mrs. had sent GN a text that she was going to “shoot” (I may be confused about the wording, but I think it was “shoot”) Mr. 83. The Mrs. says she’s going to “shoot” anyone anytime she gets annoyed. We are great friends, but I’m sure she has wanted to “shoot” me at times. Mr. 83 showed me the texts and it was very clear to me that the Mrs. and GN were joking. GN responded something about how he told her not do do it unless she had a cart so she could dump the body in the well. Reading through the texts, it was very clear to me that the two were joking, and I explained that to Mr. 83 when he showed me the texts, but he would not hear it. He believed they were conspiring to murder him.

well

On April 1, there was an altercation and the Mrs. left Mr. 83 at about 3AM. Mr. 83 fell down in the driveway chasing after Mrs. 77, and went to the hospital the following day claiming that Mrs. 77 had run him over.

Meanwhile, yours truly was at work, and the police were calling me, as well as GN, and Mrs. 77. That night, I had to call the police when I got home from work so that an officer could come to the house and interview me. The officer told me about his interview with Mr. 83 which was actually pretty amusing, and he also told me that there would be no charges brought against the Mrs. as her story was very consistent. Mr. 83’s story, however, was not.

There’s more, but I think you get the gist of it. It was one crazy thing after another, not to mention the tree falling on Mr. 83’s house and pretty much totaling it. (GN suggested this might be Karma, and I have to wonder about that myself.) Mr. 83 sent me emails, and threatened to turn of the power to the home I was renting. (After reading about how much judges dislike landlords who do this sort of thing, I almost wish he had!) The night before the tree fell on their house, Mrs. 77 told me not to rush into moving. She had been to see a couple of attorneys, so I guess she knew it would take time to sort out, but once the tree made their house uninhabitable, she didn’t say another word. Mr. 83 was chomping at the bit to get me to move because he wanted to move into my house so he could “supervise” the work that would be done rebuilding his home. During the time Mr. 83 wanted me to move so badly, he seemed to forget all about GN, like maybe he could only focus on what seemed to me as one obsession at a time.

Now, I’m in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m not even sure I want to meet my neighbors! I think I will just wave from across the road. That’s enough for me.

I may have made some mistakes with my purchase. I was getting panicked about wanting to move away from the whole crazy neighbor situation, and I may have rushed into it and not thought some things through, but it’s done now, and another thing Emma has taught me is that happiness is a choice, and I’m going to be happy where I am.

The sad thing is, Mr. 83 was a great neighbor for 6 years and someone I looked up to and admired. He was hard working, and when he was younger, juggled 2 or 3 jobs. I tried to suggest that Mr. 83 might need a complete physical evaluation, and several people have made other suggestions such as dementia, TIA’s, etc causing this behavior change in Mr. 83, but I have no power to force Mr. 83 to see a doctor, and right now, even though I’m concerned and I still care about Mr. 83, I’m relieved to be out of there. Just like Emma, there were signs I missed that something wasn’t right with Mr. 83. I guess when you feel close to someone, you just don’t want to see that there is something wrong. Maybe if I were a trained professional like all of Emma’s multiple therapists, I would have caught on sooner. (Suzie McGarvey, Dr. Genie Burnett (Dr. Elizabeth Genie Burnett), Dr. Richard Born (Rich Born), etc. Thank goodness Emma is in sales and isn’t in the counseling field yet. I just don’t think that is the right career for my girl.

The funny thing is, Mr. 83 got what he wanted. After GN had to call the police on Mr. 83 back in Jan., he decided, although he thought the Mrs. was a wonderful friend, that it would be easier if he just didn’t have anything to do with either one of them. (And he didn’t even call the police when Mr. 83 broke into his garage without his permission.) Mrs. 77 left her husband on April 1, and at that point, GN hadn’t spoken to either of them since Jan. Then, Mr. 83 got rid of me, so now he’s sitting over there in the little house that I rented, with the French doors that look out on GN’s house. Mr. 83 got what he wanted, but I don’t think it turned out quite like he planned.

tree on house

Anyway, Emma-fans, I look forward to getting settled and getting back to telling Emma’s story. Thanks for your love and support. Write me anytime at: losingemma@gmail.com

A little Catch Up!

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

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Emma Buchheim (Emma Roey)

RIP Little C.  From what I understand, Emma still loves Chihuhua mixes and she and Tyler have two little ones!  (I have granddogs!)  Emma, I do have to ask you about Game of Thrones, though.

Thank you to those of you who’ve asked about the blog.  Yes, I am behind, and I will get back to it.   In addition to work and other obligations, I’ve had some friends going through a very, very difficult situation, and a crazy neighbor with lots of drama and plenty of police involvement.  After what I went through with Emma, you’d think I’d be used to drama by now.  Some of it has been quite bizarre, and with a little distance it is kind of funny, but it is not funny when you are in the middle of it!  Some of it has been a little scary, and I’ve had the police call me at work, and then I had to be interviewed by the police regarding the crazy neighbor.  I may write more about it one day, but mostly it is just very sad to see someone who so obviously needs help.   Just one of the many adventures in the life of Divorcedom!

In any event, I hope to be moving soon, and getting back to a calm and peaceful household, and then will get back to telling Emma’s story.

If you have any questions or comments, don’t hesitate to write to me at:  losingemma@gmail.com

Take Care!

The Death of a Marriage

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

The Death of a Marriage

Just some random thoughts on this morning. I was thinking of a couple at our church maybe 15 years ago. They were a little younger that Phill and I and had two children, a son Emma’s age and a daughter a little younger. We’d seen them go through a difficult time when the husband lost his job after 9-11. He went out and got a job that one would have thought was beneath him, to take care of his family. This was a man who would do whatever he needed to do to take care of his family. Suddenly they were separated and getting divorced. They couldn’t even speak to each other. They couldn’t even be at church at the same time. What happened? No one seemed to know. Not knowing them well, I wasn’t going to pry into their business, but it seemed so sad. They’d been in a Sunday school class with Phill and I and seemed so happy and loving. Later, the husband took up riding motorcycles and got his ear pierced. He seemed to become a different person. Was it a midlife crisis that destroyed their marriage? She occasionally showed up for church or he occasionally showed up, but neither of them very often. I’ve lost touch and don’t attend that church anymore, so I never did find out, but how does this happen to two people who love each other. How do two people who love each other become bitter enemies?

How does the person you love most and trust with all your heart become someone you can’t even talk to? I saw this happen in my own marriage. For almost 27 years of marriage, Phill told me and showed everyday how much he loved me everyday. All of a sudden, our 17 year old makes up lies of rape, sexual molestation, a suicide attempt, and then accuses her mother of physical abuse. Lie after lie, and Phill decides to go with that Emma is an abused child? Someone who knew Emma said she was sure that if we had looked at Emma’s computer, we would have found quite a history of all the things she looked up on the internet such as how to act like an abused child in front of her therapists. I’m sure Emma studied and practiced. I can’t count the number of people who’ve said to me, “I know Emma’s sick, but Phill? What is wrong with him?”

For almost 27 years of marriage, Phill professed his love everyday, and planned our future. We were looking forward to our little bird growing up into an independent young woman and leaving the nest, and we had things we wanted to do when we retired. We talked about getting a camper or RV and traveling. I had joked with Emma that we would show up at her college with the RV and camp out in the parking lot by her dorm so we could check on her. We had projects we wanted to work on around the house. Phill always talked about putting in a pond in our yard. How do you go from, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” to “too much water under the bridge” and “I’ve put up with a lot” and throw away your marriage practically overnight? It was like the flip of a switch. All of a sudden, two deputies showed up and threw me out of our home.

During the divorce, I couldn’t even speak to Phill. I was so heartbroken at what my husband had done. How could you destroy the person you adored and cherished all those years? Besides being heartbroke, I was stunned, or maybe in shock. I felt like I’d been hit by a tractor trailer. Everyday was waking up to the nightmare of what was happening in my life. Emotionally, I was at my absolute weakest. I was a wreck. I did not want to speak to Phill and had to turn to an attorney, to handle everything for me. Fortunately I have some good friends who got me through a very tough time, but as far as legal matters, my husband wasn’t looking out for me, so I had to trust an attorney. Of course, he wasn’t looking out for me so much as getting things settled and telling me what I would have to agree to or how he expected a judge would side in issues.

Later on, Phill was the one who couldn’t talk to me. Maybe he just can’t face what he did. When I presented him with lie after lie that Emma told, he blocked me from texting him. And I’m not talking about being a crazy ex- and texting him 50 times a day. I’m talking about a few texts period. To this day, Phill can not talk about what Emma did.

Even after Phill had me thrown out of my house, on the few times we saw each other, he tried to put his arms around me, hug me, kiss me, hold my hand….. Up until the day Emma pulled her, “I want to live in a group home…” stunt, Phill was loving, kind, thoughtful, and then all of a sudden it was over. How do you go from talking about Emma leaving home and the plans we have to “It’s over.”

It took me years to understand, Phill didn’t want the divorce, Emma did.

Let me say that again, Phill didn’t want the divorce, Emma did.

(to be continued….)

 

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Facebook Memories

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Facebook Memories

A few days ago, I got on to Facebook and saw one of those “share your memories” posts about how on this day 7 years ago, I had posted how I finished a book a student had lent me (City of Bones by Cassandra Clare), we got up and went to church, Emma and I went to a bead show, and then came home and Phill had made us dinner, and what a lovely day it was. How was I to know that a short month later, on her dad’s birthday, Emma would begin all her drama of accusing a priest of molesting her, leading to the destruction of our family and of Phill’s and my marriage.

This particular bead show came to the Gwinnett Civic Center about twice a year, and I frequently went, mostly to look, but ofter there was some little thing to pick up that I couldn’t find locally. For those of you that may not know, I used to make glass beads and jewelry. Unfortunately, I had no where to put my glass supplies when I got thrown out of my home, so they are gone. I have no idea what Phill did with them. I do have my beads and some supplies, but when I asked Phill for my old desk, he refused to give it to me, and I doubt, between working two jobs, volunteering, and having somewhat of a life, I will ever make jewelry again. All my supplies sit in boxes. Eventually, I will give it all away.

I think this was the same show where Emma bought her purity ring, and then in the fall of 2010 during the time Emma was seeing Dr. Genie Burnett at Manna Treatment, Emma complained that we wouldn’t send her on a church retreat because we couldn’t afford it, but I could got to a bead show and buy beads. That particular show that Emma complained about, I’d bought $30 worth of supplies, and the reason we wouldn’t send Emma to the church retreat was because she was throwing up all the time and taking so much medicine (Zofran) that she slept all the time, and we couldn’t see sending her on a retreat when all she did was sleep. (Of course, we didn’t know that another reason Emma was sleeping so much was because she was on the phone late at night, talking to her other mommy, Sandra Brooks McCravy, whining about her pitiful life and how mean her mommy was. Emma was a busy girl.) It had nothing to do with the cost of the weekend retreat, but I suppose it sounded good to Dr. Burnett to say that I was too selfish to spend on my daughter, but could spend on myself.

Sandra Brooks McCravy

Sandra Brooks McCravy

I don’t remember the story, but in one of Emma’s history books we read about a character, maybe a raven? (Emma, help me out here. I’m sure you remember.) Anyway, the character got distracted by shiny objects. If you’ve seen the movie UP, which we saw as a family, and even Phill cried, then you know what I mean when I say, “Squirrel.” and how the dogs got distracted every time someone said “squirrel.” Well, we’d read this story a few years before we saw up, and Emma would always refer to it when she saw something small and pretty and acted like whatever it was completely distracted her and she would say, “Oooooo, shiny!” No one else would know what Emma was referring to, it was kind of a private joke between the two of us.

What’s kind of funny was that when I went to the bead show in February of 2011, it was during the time Emma was telling her therapist that I was abusing her. Hmmmm, so why would you want to go out with your abusive mother when you didn’t have to? Emma didn’t always go with me to the bead shows, but she loved going and usually went with me. As much as I hate to say it, she didn’t really have friends, so Phill and I were most of her social life. Phill was usually often home on Sundays if he wasn’t flying RC planes, and Emma was old enough to stay alone anyway, so why did she want to go to the bead show with her abusive mother when she could have stayed home and not risked being physically abused? (Hmmm…) When she did go with me, we oooed and ahhed over all the pretties and sometimes Emma bought something for herself, or I bought her something if she saw something she wanted to make into a project. She pretty much had access to any of my supplies if she wanted to make something, and of course, I made her plenty of jewelry. If Emma got a new dress, I could whip up something for her to wear with it. We had a lot of fun collaborating on what she wanted. I also spent many hours teaching Emma beading stitches and took her on trips to the William Holland School in Young Harris, Ga., where she took classes.

Another thing Emma and I did in February of 2011 was to take our Foster Dog to Agility training. The woman who did the classes let foster dogs with the rescue come to class for free. It was great for them to learn a few things and gain some confidence. These classes were on Sunday afternoons. Emma always wanted to go with me right up until she had her little fit at Suzie McGarvey’s office on March 14 2011 and wanted to go live in a group home. She certainly didn’t have to go with me those Sunday afternoons. I loved going and running the dog, but when Emma went, I always let her take the dog on the course and I watched. Selfish mommy that I was, I gave up what I loved doing so that my daughter could do it. Of course, when I asked Phill why Emma always wanted to go with her abusive mother to Agility if I was so horrible, he said I made her go with me. Yep, that must be it.

agilitybenny3

Emma Buchheim and our foster dog, Benny, at Agility.  Mean mommy that I am, I dragged Emma to Agility class during the time she claimed I abused her, even though I would have much enjoyed an afternoon to myself.  

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After those horrible events on September 11, 2001, the 9-11 commission said, “They were at war with us. We weren’t at war with them.” (Excuse me if I didn’t quote that exactly right.) That is pretty much how I feel about my daughter. She was at war with me, and I had no idea. She wanted me out of her way so she could run the household and be the wife default, taking over as the woman in Phill’s life, and I never saw it coming. Emma hated me so much just for being her mother. It saddens me to know this horrible human being came out of my body. Phill and I thought we were raising a good, decent young lady, and I know she acts the part, but I’m finding more and more people who know the truth about Emma. I’m sorry Tyler Buchheim, we didn’t raise her that way.

Recently, I ready the book, by Sue Klebold, A Mother’s Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy, and I could compare so much of my story to the heart breaking story of Sue Klebold. Thank you God that Emma has not killed anyone yet. Do I think it could happen, yes. I hope it won’t, but I think Emma is capable of some pretty horrible things.

I wish I’d taken some notes, and I may have to go back and get the book from the library again. They two young me, Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris had different personality disorders if you want to call it that. Dylan sounded more depressed and Eric sounded like more of a sociopath. I remember reading about Eric and thinking, “That sounds like Emma.” Not that in any way do I think Emma is going to go out and commit mass murder. She doesn’t fit that profile, but I think she will do other things, and I don’t think she has a conscience.

Also recently, I had some conversations with a young man who discovered my blog and thought he was a lot like Emma. In telling me about himself, he thought maybe he could help me understand Emma. I hope to write more about some insight this young man gave me in the future when I get some time because it was kind of odd to be in that position of speaking to someone who knew so much about your daughter without having ever met her. It was interesting to say the least.

I also want to write for all the estranged parents our there. I’ve talked to other parents who’ve been through something similar, and I’ve found that many of them don’t want their child back in their lives. They love the child that they raised, but why would you invite all that turmoil back into your life? Would I want Emma back in my life?

I don’t talk about Emma much except to a few close friends, some of whom knew Emma while she was growing up. Sometimes, when I coworker is talking about something their child or grandchild did, I want to share a memory of Emma, but I don’t. I am a reminder of every mother’s nightmare. I remind them of what could happen when a child goes horribly wrong. It is frightening to other parents to know what Emma did and to wonder if your own child could ever do such a thing. It’s kind of like being in a secret club. Every once in a while someone will tell me their story, and I don’t mind sharing mine with them because it helps to know you are not alone, but this is not a club people want to talk about belonging to. We all want that “normal” child that grows up to be a functioning adult, with goals and accomplishments and who gets married and has babies and finds her place in this world.

Some years back, one of our relatives made a half-hearted suicide attempt, and the nurse at the ER told her mother that if she could just get her to aged 24, she would be ok. This young woman is now in her 40’s and doing fairly well. She is married with children of her own. As Emma turns 24 later this year, we’ll see if that holds true. No, I don’t think it will. It’s a nice thought, but when I look back on Emma, especially the teen years, and realize she lied pretty much about everyone she knew, I think there was more than a little teen angst going on with my baby girl. Not all the lies were mean, many were quite humourous, but they were lies. Emma is a teller of tales. I don’t think you outgrow that.

No matter what horrible things your child has done, there will always be good memories. Emma was a wonderful baby, and an adorable toddler. Up until the teenage years, I thought Phill and I were raising her right. I do have a lot of fun, normal childhood memories of Emma, and I am thankful for them. I thought being Emma’s mom was the most important job I could ever have. I loved being her mom. For all you parents going through something similar, hold on to the good memories. No one can take those from you.

 

Childhood Lies and the Fire Alarm

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

After my last post about Pretty Little Liars, I got to thinking a lot about Emma’s childhood lies. Should Phill and I have caught on that Emma had a problem? Did we miss the signs that Emma had a problem telling the truth? We didn’t have another child to compare Emma to, but maybe if we had, would we have noticed that Emma lied more than most children?

One of the lies I that stuck in my mind after that last “Pretty Little Liars” post was the story about the fire drill. We were at Master’s Academy, the homeschool arts program where Emma took classes on Fridays, and I worked, at first just to pay for Emma’s tuition, but later, because kids were interested in my classes, and I found that I loved teaching the kids. (Masters Academy took place at Hebron Baptist Church, Dacula, Ga. Later on, the arts program became Dacula Classical Academy.)

Emma was in 6th or 7th grade, and was taking a dance class. I don’t even remember what class I was in, but there was a fire alarm, and we had to take the kids outside. Afterwards, on the drive home, Emma told me what I think was an Emma Tale, about how one of the girls in the class, Rachel M. had “accidentally” pulled the fire alarm. How do you accidentally pull a fire alarm? Don’t they have a little glass bar that has to break to sound the alarm? Silly me, I had just assumed that the fire drill was a routine event that occurred every once in a while. Since we were like a school at the church, it would make sense to have fire drills, like we had in school when we were kids.

I questioned Emma, because the story just didn’t sound right, but she went on about how Rachel was dancing around and somehow grabbed the fire alarm and set it off.

I had been an aide in some classes with Rachel, and I know I had her in at least one of my classes, and also Rachel’s little sister. Both girls were very sweet, quiet, kind, polite, helpful, good workers, and well behaved. They never caused any kind of trouble, never brought any attention to themselves, and had Rachel “accidentally” pulled the fire alarm, she would have been MORTIFIED, and according to Emma, that’s what happened. Poor Rachel was so embarrassed that she had pulled the fire alarm, she had to hide and couldn’t face anyone. Emma went into great detail about how embarrassed Rachel was over “accidentally” pulling the fire alarm.

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Emma and a friend from a dance class at Master’s Academy

A lot of Emma’s childhood lies have caused me to think and wonder if Phill and I could have done anything different. So many times, I couldn’t prove Emma was lying, so I just let her tell her stories and didn’t go out and verify that she was lying. Being a “not my child” kind of mom, of course I didn’t want to believe my child had trouble telling the truth. All children lie, right? When does lying become a problem? Is Emma’s lying my fault (everything in Emma’s life is my fault, so I guess I need to take credit for this too) because I didn’t establish a “No Lying” policy in the house to get Emma on the straight an narrow?

Kids like for attention, to individuate, to get out of trouble, to establish their identity, etc. Kids learn to tell white lies, so as not to hurt someone’s feelings, just like they see adults do. There were times I felt like Emma’s lies came from an active imagination, and again, I assumed lying was a normal part of childhood. During Emma’s teen years, I learned that Emma would say whatever she needed to say to get what she wanted. She would tell me she put her clothes away, when she crammed them under her dresser or threw them on her closet floor because I’d told her to put her clothes away before we were going to do something or go somewhere. Again, I thought this was just typical kid behavior. Did I miss something?

It will be interesting to see where my prodigal daughter goes in life. Is it too later for her to have a normal life. Will she continue to lie her way through life? Is it now such a part of her that there’s no turning back? I also have to wonder about Tyler and if he’s caught on to Emma yet. Living with her on a daily basis, even blinded by love, I think sooner or later he will figure it out.

Happy Birthday Emma #23!!

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

icarriedyou

Ok, except the labor was more like 20 hours or so, not 15!  Emma, I remember being at Target with Daddy at about 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and I had to sit down on an empty shelf because the pain was so bad!  I kept denying it was labor because it was too early.  We were going to go get our Christmas tree, but we never made it.

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I’m re-posting this picture just because it was one of my favorites of Emma helping me do Pet’s with Santa photos.  Emma is holding Benny, who was our foster dog at that time.  Santa was the classmate of our good friend, Janice, and generously volunteered his time to help the rescue animals.

Dec. 19, 1993 at 7:34 am, my beautiful baby girl was born in downtown Atlanta, Ga.  Emma, you weighed 6 pounds, 12 ounces and were 19 1/2 inches long.  One day, I’ll write a longer version and tell you more about the day you were born.

Tell Tyler I’m sorry I forgot his birthday.  I’ll do better next year.  I hope you both are well and have a wonderful day!

Love, Mom

Oh, and Emma:

http://www.scarymommy.com/girls-nagging-moms-grow-successful-says-science/

You’re Welcome.