(I hope I’m doing this right, so bear with me. This post is supposed to be going on the page with the Chapters of Emma’s stories. We’ll see how it comes out when I’m done!)

When I last left off, I was telling about how Emma told her dad and I she was molested by a priest. Emma claimed that the rape of her friend “Lacey” brought up repressed memories of being molested when she was 12? Of course, now we know that “Lacey” was never raped, so just where did these “repressed” memories come from?

Earlier in the blog, I think I mentioned that around the time Emma made up the lies about the rape, we were having trouble with her relationship with her dad. Emma could be quite rude if she didn’t like someone, and she was acting this way towards her dad. Emma claimed that her dad called her a “bitch” and a “slut” every single day, and she and I got into several arguments when she said these things, especially a heated argument when she told me that she had told her friends “Lacey” (cyber friend) and Kayla (a friend Emma met a church camp, whom she saw once or twice a year) this story. I absolutely knew this was not true. Phill never called Emma those names. Ever. I couldn’t believe she would say these things about her dad, much less tell her friends these stories. I wholeheartedly defended her dad, and told her on several occasions to go to her room, that I would not listen to her talk about her dad like this. I reminded Emma how fortunate she was that I was able to stay home and be her mom because her dad worked to support us.

Emma was very rude to her dad and would come in to say goodnight and hug and kiss me and then walk right by her dad and not say a word to him. I would get on to her and tell her not to be rude, and she would reluctantly say goodnight to Phill. While I hate to admit I kind of secretly enjoyed being the favored parent, (Emma could be so difficult at times, I often felt like she hated me too, just for being her mom.) it hurt my heart to see the way Emma treated her dad.

Emma and I belonged to a book club group with our church, and every once in a while, between books, we would watch and discuss a movie. The group was all women, but I thought Emma was mature enough for the group. Thinking back, I guess I should have been wondering why she didn’t do more things with kids her age, but she wanted to come to the book club with me, and she also went to a neighborhood Bible study group with me. I had been invited to attend when Emma was in 6th grade, and couldn’t leave Emma at home alone, so she started coming with me. She enjoyed the attention from all the ladies who thought she was so bright and mature. I was proud of having a daughter who everyone thought so much of.

Shortly before Emma came up with the story about being molested by the priest, we had watched a movie with our book club group called “Doubt.” I starred Meryl Streep and was about a priest who was accused of having an inappropriate relationship with one of the boys in the church school. It was probably a little too adult for Emma, and was not a cheerful movie. Much later, after Emma accused me of abuse, I got to thinking about the timing of this movie and contacted a couple of ladies from the group to ask them if we had seen the movie before or after Emma accused the priest. They confirmed that it was before. I have wondered if this movie influenced Emma’s decision to accuse a priest of sexually molesting her. I’ve talked to a couple of mental health professionals who have given me some insight, but of course it’s all speculation. Only Emma can tell us why she did what she did. Could it be that Emmma was planning of accusing her dad of abuse, but because I would not take her side, she turned on the priest instead?

It’s something to think about.

Well, obviously I’m not very computer savy. This post was supposed to go under The Story of Emma, but I’ll figure out how to add it there later. I was married to a man who handled all the computer stuff. Phill was a real geek which came in very handy. I’d tell him what I wanted to do, and he would make it happen. He would get kind of frustrated teaching me something, because I would have to do it at least 10 times to get the hang of it, and if he was teaching me something new, I’d get out a notebook and want to write down every step. He’d argue with me that it was not something I needed to write down because it was easy, but trust me, what was easy for him was NOT easy for me. Phill always told me I didn’t need to worry about learning things like the computer and the on-line banking because he’d always be there to do it for me. Uh, yeah. Right.