Tag Archives: children who accuse priests of sexual molestation

The Husband – The Gift That Keeps on Giving, Part 2

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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 Giving, Part 2

So, in going through some of my things, I noticed it was just small personal things. Mostly a lot of junk I don’t want now like lots of clothes and books.  Phill gets to decide what is mine and what isn’t.   Phill had already told me I couldn’t have the desk he gave me for my birthday one year. I couldn’t have any furniture or anything else because I didn’t take it immediately. (I was still stupid enough to think that Phill would come to his senses and do the right thing, even after the divorce.)

I emailed Phill and mentioned a Wolf print by Carl Brenders that we had hanging over our fire place. It was either 1991 or 1992 that Phill got it for my birthday. We’d gotten some fall catalogs, and I saw this print and loved it. A close friend had some smilar wolf prints, and I’d always admired hers.

Carl Brenders

Phill was going to surprise me with the print for my birthday, but the UPS man kind of ruined it. (Those darn UPS men! They ruin everything. Even their marriages!) I came home from work, and the print was leaning up against the garage. Phill had beat me home from work, thinking he would be there to get the print, if it came that day, and hide it before my birthday. He was upset the the UPS man had just left it there and never rang the bell, so I got to open up my birthday present early.

Then, after lugging through some of the stuff in the storage unit, I found some things that were in my closet, but not some photo albums that I had. Since Phill had threatened to block my texts some time ago (2 or 3 years, I think?) I’d never texted him since, but since I was sitting here with my phone, I thought “What the heck.” and texted him a message:

“Just wondered what you did with our wedding photos?”

About 30 minutes later, I got this e-mail:

I failed to renew the block on your number, I have fixed that. I have never been afraid to face you, but you showed me that was pointless early on.

If you want the wolf print I will put it in the storage unit Friday. It was not a birthday present but a joint anniversary present. You can also have the wedding album if you want it. This is the last of things you will get. I tried repeatedly for years to get your things, and you chose not to.

Let me know,

Phill

 

Failed to renew the block on my number? What does that mean? I thought once you block someone, that’s it. They are blocked. Ok, whatever. Technology is not my forte.

Phill used to save all our receipts, so I thought he probably still had them. He had files and files crammed with old statements, bills, etc. When I emailed back and said he might want to check the credit card statements, I got this message from Phill:

 

Fine, If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I don’t think I am and you know the receipts are long gone. Please just answer the question.

 

Boy do we have different memories!! I know that’s true for everyone. The brain does funny things.

It’s not really the wolf print I want to talk about though. Phill gave it to me, and it was mine, but I considered it “ours” and if Phill wants to keep it, along with everything else, he might as well have that too. Even though he offered it to me, if he treated the print like he’s treated the rest of my things, I wouldn’t want it anyway, so please just keep it and take care of it. Since our 34th anniversary is coming up, he can have it as an anniversary gift, or it can be a wedding gift for him and Kim Chassion.

What is interesting to me is the tone of Phill’s emails. Now, I’ll admit, I loved my husband. I didn’t want a divorce. He broke my heart and let our 17 year old daughter take over my role as woman of the house while he went off gallivanting, playing with toy air planes and drinking with his beer buddies. (No, nothing incestuous, just that Emma started acting like the wife doing the shopping, cooking, taking care of the pets, going out with her dad, etc. I joke about Emma was Phill’s 2nd wife and Kim will be his 3rd.) It has taken me 6 years to be able to write about Phill. I was so heartbroken that I just couldn’t. I couldn’t even talk about the divorce for a few years. It was too painful. I had my close friends, but when others would ask me, I would say I was divorced and leave it at that. I just couldn’t say anymore. And, part of me believed that my husband would eventually do the right thing. I know Phill well enough to know his weaknesses, and he just can’t face the truth, even 6 years later.  I have survived, however.

 

Emma had to cut me out of her life because she knows I know the truth, so it’s a lot easier to say to people that she was abused by her horrible mother because her mother isn’t there to speak up. That’s ok. That’s part of Emma’s personality, whether you want to call it a personality disorder or mental illnes or whatever. It is just who she is, a perpetual victim.

 

So anyway, a couple of things I thought were interesting in Phill’s e-mails were his tone. I’ve contacted him once by text in the past few years, and he got so upset, he got that “fixed.” Really? One text from you ex-wife is such a harassment that you have to put a block on? Ok, so sorry to have upset you so deeply, dear husband.

The other thing I thought was interesting was Phill’s “pointless” comment. It was pointless to deal with your wife, so you have your wife thrown out of your home. It was pointless to stand up to your 17 year old daughter who manipulated you into doing her bidding. It was pointless to get your family into therapy to figure out what was going on. After finding out your daughter’s friend wasn’t raped and didn’t attempt suicide, so there went Emma’s excuse for her “repressed memories,” it was pointless to look into Emma’s story. After finding out Emma was claiming her mother had poisoned her with DDT and claimed to have a pathology report to prove it, it was pointless to discuss this with your wife, let’s just let Emma go on her merry way, telling lies wherever she goes.  (Poor Tyler.  I’m really hoping he can be the man that Emma is going to need him to be, or does he take after his dad, Robert, whom Emma described as a “wimp?”)

Anyone that’s been married a while knows that it’s not always easy. Sometimes you have to choose to work things out, but for my husband, it was pointless, and he chose to throw away his wife instead. For the almost 27 years of our marriage, I will say it was pretty easy. We got along well, loved each other, and loved our life together. We didn’t face too many difficulties, so maybe that’s why Phill fell apart when we had such a big one. I tend to think our problems multiplied by first Emma’s issues, and then when Phill couldn’t handle things, he went into a midlife crisis instead of choosing to man-up and deal with it. He let Emma take over, and she was in charge.

I was telling a friend about Phill’s recent emails, and she said, “Me thinks the husband doth protest too much!” (And I have to apologize to my 12th grade English teacher, Miss Kimball. I heard that and at first thought Macbeth, but that was actually Hamlet! It’s been a long time since I read Shakespeare!  Oh, how I remember working so hard to memorize that Hamlet Soliloquy!) I don’t think Emma has a conscience, and I’ll write more about that along with some examples at some point, but I do think Phill does. He has a conscience, but he doesn’t have much of a backbone. I had to be the disciplinarian with Emma, the bad guy, and when faced with Emma’s threats of “If you make me see mom, I’ll run away.” Phill couldn’t deal with it, so he gave in to Emma. Phill knows he messed up, but would rather go on with his life than face what he did. He got the house, got rid of the wife, has the new squeeze, and hangs with a new crowd, so he can keep up the pretense that he was justified in ruining his wife’s life.  Suckered by a 17 year old.  Pretty tough for a MENSA eligible fellow to swallow.

Marriage1985One of the things Phill left me in the storage unit was this cross stitch sampler that I made in 1985. It hung in our bedroom. I’m not sure why in the world Phill would think I wanted it. Maybe I should send it to Emma and Tyler?

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

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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.

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

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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.

 

Pretty Little Liars

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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.

Pretty Little Liars

happening52

Emma at a teen church retreat called Happening 52.

I never knew much about liars and lying. I guess I never thought much about lying being a disorder. I thought people lied to get what they want, but never thought about people NOT being able to stop themselves from lying.

I know someone, a friend of a friend, who is a liar. I don’t know this man well, but he’s a pretty nice person. He will drop what he’s doing to help a friend, and when I needed something, he dropped everything to help me one day because another friend called him, and I hardly even know the guy. The odd thing about this man is that he is a liar. I don’t think he means to lie, it’s more like telling stories. He starts talking, and they just come out. His lies aren’t mean. He doesn’t talk badly about people. On the contrary, I remember one story he told about someone, and the story was very complimentary and positive, just not true. Everyone that knows this man knows how he is. You take what he says with a grain of salt because it’s probably not true. I suppose if I spent any time around this man, his stories would get on my nerves, but he’s harmless. I know he’s lost friends who got tied of his lying, and I don’t understand it, but it’s just the way he is.

Over the years, I’ve thought a lot about Emma’s lies. I wondered if Emma knew she lied or did she even know what came out of her mouth. I’ve wondered why Emma lied. Some lies were a means to an end. Emma had a plan and lied to get her way. Other lies were just stories about people. They were typically negative stories, maybe to make Emma look good. Just about everyone Emma knew at school was sexually active, drinking, or using drugs for example. Emma’s friend, Kayla Benifield Weaver, was a good enough friend to want Emma in her wedding, and yet Emma told so many lies about Kayla’s mother, grandparents, boyfriend’s family, etc., and these were mean, hateful lies. Kayla’s mother and her (then) boyfriend were drunks and kept the girls out all night at a sports bar, Kayla’s grandfather was a racist, white supremacist, Blair’s little sister had medical issues and his parents expected Kayla and Blair to have her live with them once they got married……….. And then there’s the whole “Lacey” story. How does a pen-pal turn into a rape victim and attempt suicide? Why would Emma make up these stories?

Those are some of the big lies, but there were many little lies. Emma would have barely met someone and lie about them. I think one I mentioned before was a new couple at church with two little girls, and Emma claimed that the girls were his by his first marriage, and the wife was the stepmom. Emma told me this story when she was in 9th grade and co-teaching Sunday school with an adult teacher. Why would Emma make this up?

Emma was in 9th or 10th grade when a friend called and I was out of town. Emma claimed she had this great, long conversation with this friend who was talking about the state of the world, and I don’t even remember the bizarre story Emma told me, other than it was something about white supremacists and how this friend told Emma she would need to keep some blonde hair dye under the sink so she could become blonde. At the time, I was out of state, visiting a friend who was dying of cancer, so I really didn’t care much or think much about this story, but of course now I wish I’d done more to call Emma on her lies..

Why, when a couple of friends so generously took Emma to the Cirque Du Soleil, would Emma say they talked all through the show and that people kept turning around staring at them?

When Emma went to Haiti with a group from Eternal Hope in Haiti, she came back with many stories that I have to question now, but she also told me about a friend of ours who asked her why she would go down there to help ________s (the N-word.) This friend was proud of Emma for wanting to help people and never said any such thing.

I’ve heard people describe Emma as pathological, antisocial, a compulsive liar, borderline, delusional….. but I have to admit, it’s been a long, long time since I took Psych 101 in college, so I didn’t really know what any of these meant, so I will share with you a little about what I’ve read on lying liars and the liars who tell them. I’m not even sure the so-called experts agree on the terms and their meanings, but here are a few things I’ve found:

A Sociopath

A sociopath is typically defined as someone who lies incessantly to get their way and does so with little concern for others. A sociopath is often goal-oriented (i.e., lying is focused—it is done to get one’s way). Sociopaths have little regard or respect for the rights and feelings of others. Sociopaths are often charming and charismatic, but they use their talented social skills in manipulative and self-centered ways.

Compulsive Liar

A compulsive liar is defined as someone who lies out of habit. Lying is their normal and reflexive way of responding to questions. Compulsive liars bend the truth about everything, large and small. For a compulsive liar, telling the truth is very awkward and uncomfortable while lying feels right. Compulsive lying is usually thought to develop in early childhood, due to being placed in an environment where lying was necessary. For the most part, compulsive liars are not overly manipulative and cunning (unlike sociopaths), rather they simply lie out of habit—an automatic response which is hard to break and one that takes its toll on a relationship.

Site: truthaboutdeception.com

Could Emma be both? I definitely see some of the sociopath lying in Emma, but there were other times where Emma just seemed to lie without thinking, sort of like the man I mentioned at the beginning of this post. Emma lied as easily as she told the truth. At home, Emma frequently lied especially if you asked her if she’d done a chore. The answer was always yes, and more often than not, that was a lie. I thought that was normal kid behavior. What kids likes to do chores? Or did Phill and I miss something by not catching on to all the little harmless lies Emma told.

Pathological Liars

Pathological liars lie with what might be called “intent”. They have a clear purpose or aim they hope to achieve through lying. They can be manipulative and cunning and normally care little for the opinions or feelings of others. Pathological liars simply want things their own way.

Compulsive Liars

A compulsive liar is someone who has little or no control over the lies he or she tells. Lying, for them, is habitual and constant. They may lie about anything and in any situation. They lie to avoid the truth, perhaps because they find telling the truth uncomfortable.

It appears that low self-esteem is a significant factor in the development of a compulsive liar. The condition may be developed whilst in childhood and in most cases, compulsive liars are relatively harmless. They lie habitually and may be aware of doing so, but find themselves unable to stop.

Site: Steadyhealth.com

Again, Emma seems to be both a pathological and a compulsive liar. The pathological liar goes along with the sociopath liar. So many times I felt like Emma lied as easliy as she told the truth, and that seems to fit the compulsive liar definition.

Then, I found something interesting about Genetic liars:

In 2022 geneticists made a remarkable discovery. Among people who are just incapable of telling the truth, one in five is a congenital liar. That is, their constant lying is the result of a specific genetic defect.

Site:http://www.cs.wcupa.edu/epstein/Default.htm

Could Emma’s lying be a genetic disorder?

And a little more information, this website lists five types of liars, and if you read the first section about Sociopathic Liars, you will recognize Emma. I could write pages and pages about how this definition applies to Emma.

Sociopathic Liars

Sociopaths are defined as someone who lies continuously in an attempt to get their own way, without showing care or concern for others. These individuals are goal-oriented.

Even though it might seem hard to believe, lying is focused – they are focused on getting their own way. Sociopaths don’t have a lot of respect or regard for the feelings and rights of others. They tend to be charismatic and charming, but they will use their exceptional social skills in a self-centered and manipulative manner.

Compulsive Liars

Compulsive liars are defined as someone who continually lies from sheer habit. Lying tends to be their normal manner of responding to any questions from others.

These individuals will always bend the truth, regardless of how small or large the question is. For these individuals, telling the truth doesn’t feel right. They are uncomfortable whenever they tell the truth, while lying makes them feel right.

Compulsive lying is often thought to manifest during childhood, due to being put into situations and environments where lying became a necessity. Most of the time, compulsive liars aren’t cunning or manipulative, rather they only lie because it has become such a habit for them.

This automatic response is more difficult to break. It can end up taking its toll on being able to maintain a relationship. Many people also call these individuals pathological liars or habitual liars, but they all mean the same thing.

Occasional Liars

Occasional liars are those who seldom tell a lie. When they do, they are so blown away by what they said that their guilt overcomes them. These individuals are quick to ask for forgiveness from the individual that they lied to.

Occasional liars might not be perfect, but they are often respected for their attempts at being truthful and humble enough to admit when they are wrong.

Careless Liars

Careless liars will go about their normal lives and lie every way they can. This individual isn’t concerned about trying to hide their lies or making sure they make sense. Everyone knows that the person isn’t being honest because they tend to be sloppy with their lies. They don’t have a lot of friends because most people get tired of hearing their twisted stories.

White Liars

People who tell white lies don’t usually think of themselves as true “liars”. They justify their white lies as harmless, or even beneficial, in the long term. They will sometimes tell only part of the truth, and not be suspected of lying at all. White liars may use their lies to to shield someone from what they believe is a hurtful or damaging truth.

Sadly, lying is a common denominator in many of our lives and recognizing some of the different types might just help us in dealing with the liar in our lives.

http://www.compulsivelyingdisorder.com/

So, dear readers, this is just some information for you about lying and liars. I know a lot of my readers know Emma, so you can read for yourself and make your own decision about what kind of liar you think Emma is. As for me, I still don’t know. Yes, as much as I hate to say this about my own child, I do think she’s a sociopath. I would like to think of that happy ending for my child, that she’s going to have a happy, normal life, that she can function as a responsible adult, that she will learn from her mistakes and grow into a better person, but I don’t think those things will happen for Emma. She’s never going to grow up and take responsibility. Everything wrong in her life will always be someone else’s fault.

Sadly, I think Emma’s husband will figure Emma out sooner or later. Tyler may be blinded by love right now, but as smart as Emma is, I don’t think she will be able to pull the wool over his eyes forever.

Is there help for Emma? There seems to be a number of opinions about that as well. If Phill and I had caught on sooner that Emma had a problem, could she have gotten help for her lying? Is it too late? Someone said to me that at the age of 16 a person’s personality is pretty much formed. Emma is what she is.

I feel like Phill and I owe the world an apology for our daughter. At one time, I thought we were raising a decent child who would make the world a better place. I guess when mental illness (or a personality disorder, but that’s for another post) rears it’s ugly head, all bets are off. Like the alcoholic, Emma can’t be helped if she doesn’t admit she has a problem, and it could also be something beyond Emma’s control. She is what she is, and being a liar may be as much a part of her as her blue-grey eyes or her light brown hair.

A Question of Timing

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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.

A Question of Timing

I’ve been reading a lot about liars and lying, and I probably have several posts I can write about that topic as it relates to Emma, but something that’s been on my mind lately was Emma’s timing.

The first time Emma accused me of physical abuse (Dec. 2010), it was to cover up the lies about her friend “Lacey” who was not raped and did not attempt suicide. Since Emma claimed “Lacey’s” rape brought up her repressed memories of being molested when she was 12, how could Emma’s own allegations be true if the stories about “Lacey” were NOT true. We had some attorneys who were willing to sue on Emma’s behalf, and they were about to file the lawsuit. I can only imagine the panic Emma must have felt as a just turned 17 year old, about to be caught in a whopper of a lie. Everyone would know that her claims of being sexually molested by a priest were lies! Emma had to stop the law suit, so she found a way to take the focus off her stories with a new story. Now poor Emma wasn’t just the victim of sexual abuse by a priest, but she was also the vicim of physical abused by her mother! What drama!

Ok, so that is not the part I am thinking about at this point. That was really just a brief update for my new readers who might not have read a lot of Emma’s story yet.

In March of 2011, Emma was in school at Jefferson High School, Jefferson Ga., and we were cruising along in therapyland. We took Emma to weekly appointments with Suzie McGarvey ( Lanier Counseling, North Gwinnett Counseling Associates) and had family therapy sessions. Emma also had several DFACS therapists who met with her. At that time, she really didn’t have any friends, other than “Lacey” whom she texted and e-mailed and called her “best friend” although the two girls had never met. It was kind of like we were paying therapists to act in the place of Emma’s friends.

Phill and I had met with Suzie a few times privately as well, and when Emma found out about this, she was furious. She yelled at me and claimed we were going to meet with Suzie to “talk bad” about her. To add to her fury, Emma was upset when she found out Phill and I had gone out to IHOP to eat after a session. Apparently we weren’t allowed to eat out without our daughter. How dare we cheat her out of her funny face pancakes! (Come on, Emma. It’s not like we were going to The Melting Pot or something.)

It was March 14th, 2011 when we met with Suzie McGarvey and she told me that Emma and I would have to be separated because Emma claimed I still abused her and she wanted to go live in a group home.

Something else going on at this time was that Phill was getting ready for SEFF Week (Southeast Electric Fly off) in Americus, Ga. He would go down and spend a week playing with RC planes and hanging out with his flying buddies. Emma had been going to SEFF since she was 12. She worked as the administrative assistant to the director Jeff Meyers and later Matt Klos’ (the father-in-law of Phill’s newest attorney, Bradley D. Moody, the associate part of Lee Sexton and Associates, Stockbridge, Ga.) She got paid for the week, and she loved the money she made. She worked hard and did a great job. We were always proud of how our sometimes typical nasty teenager could turn into a mature young lady who took her position seriously. Emma also liked the prestige of being the director’s right hand girl, and Jeff Meyers said some really nice things about how hard she worked. She got to boss around the vendors and tell them where to set up. Everyone knew Emma and she was known as the “go-to” girl. She worked at SEFF every year right up until 2015, until she got married.

emmajeffmeyers

Emma made a nice chunk of change and enjoyed working at SEFF week as Jeff Meyers’ assistant.  (And then later under Matt Klos)

I had never been to SEFF because SEFF week always conflicted with my end of the year program at the homeschool arts program where I worked part time, and it was always a busy week for me. Also, Emma and I spent so much time together all year and Phill was on the road so much with UPS, that I liked the idea of her having this week with Daddy and it being “their” annual thing together. Phill was always a little jealous of my relationship with Emma, so I was really glad for them to have this mommy-free time with just the two of them. After homeschooling and being busy with the end of the year program at my job, I usually enjoyed the first 2-3 of days of a quiet house to myself.

We had 3 dogs at home, so getting away wasn’t easy and Phill and Emma always sounded so busy that I wasn’t sure what I would do there, but Phill had been after me to go, so I was planning on going to Americus Ga. For SEFF in 2010. My school program ended on a Thursday night, so I could go down on Fri. and then we would all come home on Sunday.

Being somewhat an introvert and not knowing anyone at SEFF (I’d met a few of the people when I went out to watch Phill fly with the local RC groups, but I didn’t really know them.), I was a little nervous about driving down to Americus and hanging out with Phill and all his buddies. From what I heard, there was flying during the day and then a lot of sitting around, drinking and gabbing in the evening.

After hearing about what a great job Emma did at SEFF, I was really looking forward to seeing her in action. It sounded like she was kept pretty busy with all that had to be done, and I would get to see just what her job entailed after hearing so much about it. It was one of those things where you feel like all your hard work as a parent gets paid off, that you might get a glimpse of the adult your child is going to become.

Well, everything came to a screeching halt when Emma again accused me of abuse. I never even found out what I was actuall accused of that time. Suzie McGarvey just said that Emma claimed the abuse was still going on, but never told me anything specific. (Great job, Suzie! Just let your clients say whatever they want and don’t call them on it! As long as they pay and keep comint to therapy, they can say whatever they want, right?) I guess I should have pushed for that information, but at the time I was so distraught and shocked that Emma was pulling this stunt again that I just didn’t think of it. (Later, I did find out about Emma’s famous bruised arm, which written in another post so I’m not going to write it again here.) A couple of weeks later, my loving husband would want to know every detail of my schedule so he could have a sheriff’s deputy remove me from my home while he was out.

Of course, Phill wasn’t going to mess SEFF Week, so while his family was falling apart, he went down to Americus, Ga. To fly airplanes, hang out with all his new RC buds and drink beer. To be honest, I don’t even know if he took Emma that year or left her with Judy and John Hall, our neighbors who kept Emma when she couldn’t stay home with her abusive mother. She was in school at the time, and had missed so much, she should have been home and going to school, but Phill had his priorities and SEFF Week was more important than his family or his daughter’s school attendance

A year or so later, I was to hear from a few of Phill’s SEFF Week friends, whose names will be witheld from the blog. I got to hear some of the stories Emma told down at SEFF, including the one about me poisoning Emma with DDT and Emma claiming to have the toxicology report as proof.

I have to wonder, did Emma choose that time to once again accuse me of abusing her to stop me from going to SEFF Week? Was she afraid if I went down there and met people she’d been telling lies to that she would be exposed? She could trash talk her mom, but if people actually me her mom, they might find out she wasn’t this ogre that Emma described. Oh, no! Emma’s mom going to SEFF Week could ruin everything for her! Is this why Emma chose that particular time to cry abuse yet again? Only Emma knows her motives, and for now they are a mystery, but I have figured out a few things, and I may be on the right trail with my guess about this one.

Coming up next…………………….I think I’ll write about my latest experience with Denial Daddy.  Everyone needs a superpower!