You Look Bad, I look Good

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 current husband, Tyler Buchheim live in Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area as an insurance underwriter.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  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.

You Look Bad, I look Good

(Kind of like I’m OK, You’re OK, only different.)

I hope to read more and learn more about sociopathy, and as most of you know, I think Emma has some kind of personality disorder, perhaps she is a sociopath, and/or a narcissist, borderline, etc. Since Phill and I weren’t trained in the soft sciences, and since we were the proud parents, who could never believe ill off our daughter, I think we missed a lot of signs that Emma exhibited that showed had some sort of psychological problem. If I were to list the signs we missed, here is a good start:

charm-superficial

high IQ

constantly lying

especially to deceive or exploit others

lack of empathy

gas-lighting

manipulation

grandiose self-image

narcissism

paranoia

lack of conscience

disregard for the safety of others

arrogance

opinionated

few actual friends

disregard for right or wrong

failure to consider or learn from negative consequences

need for stimulation and drama

One day, I would like to address each of these signs or symptoms (and more) as they apply to Emma, but I have to admit that when I read “disregard for the safety of others” it took me a while to get that one. Emma wasn’t some reckless kid drinking and driving, or doing drugs. That one just didn’t make sense to me. It took me a while to see that Oh………………….for example, accusing the priest of sexually molesting Emma was a perfect example. She didn’t stop to think of what kind of pain her actions would cause this man, it was just about Emma getting the attention she needed. Ok, I get it now.

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Once I understood Emma’s disregard for the safety of others, I understood a little more about her lies. Emma liked to play the victim, and in playing the victim, she needed someone to be the bad guy, hence, a lot of her stories made someone else look bad or stupid to make herself look better.

If you’ve read the blog, you know I’ve listed plenty of lies Emma told about others, and I want to go back and re-write and edit, because there are more I need to add. For example, Emma made the friends look bad who took her to the Cirque Du Soliel by claiming that they were talking all through the performance, and everyone around them was staring and poor Emma was so embarrassed to be sitting with them. Now, this kind of like didn’t really hurt anyone. It gave Emma a great story to tell and made her look good, but it wasn’t true. This is just one characteristic I saw so often in Emma. Emma lied about others in order to make herself look good.

I don’t know why recently, but another one of Emma’s lies that I hadn’t written about popped into my head recently. It had to do with the grandmother of one kids from Emma’s youth group, Rob Simmons. Emma sometimes had a crush on Rob, and I think he may have had a crush on her at times. Rob was a nice kid and Phill and I got to know him helping with some of the youth events, carpooling, and having him over at our house.

I don’t remember what the need was, but Kathryn, Rob’s grandmother asked Emma about the two of us helping with some volunteer something or other, but it was on a Saturday, and Emma told Kathryn that we volunteered with pet adoptions on Saturdays, so we could not help. Then, when Emma told me about the conversation, she told me that Kathryn made a comment about how could could use to volunteer with things around the church a little more, and the whole thing makes me laugh now. Emma got the response from me that she wanted. I don’t remember what I said, but I was a little annoyed that Kathryn dare criticize where and when I spend my time volunteering. For whatever reason, Emma wanted to portray Kathryn in a bad light, or to make me not like her, I suppose.

Now, it just seems funny because if you met Kathyrn, she was such a classy lady, I could not have ever pictured her saying anything like this. Kathryn was well educated, worked in education, and even in her 70’s was still working as a consultant. She was always well dressed and seemed to have endless energy, even with arthritis and some of the difficulties of old age, and was always busy and involved in church activities. And, Kathryn was polite and kind, and I never heard her utter negative word about anyone.

For whatever reason, just like Emma saying all the kids at school were having sex or doing drugs, except Emma, who was saving herself for marriage, Emma had to make those around her look bad in order to make herself look better. Emma, who claimed to have Google in her head, alternated between a superiority complex and playing the victim.

Emma’s friend, Kayla Benifield Weaver, was a sweet girl, but according to Emma, Kayla’s mom and step-dad were frequently drunk, and Kayla’s paternal grandparents, who’d graciously invited Emma to visit them (as Kayla lived with them and not with either of her bio-parents) were described by Emma as “racists” who used the N-word frequently and had all kinds of white supremacist propaganda in their home. Of course these stories did improve if you compare to when Emma was younger and tried to convince me that Kayla’s mom was engaged to Dan Rather. All that practice paid off. Emma became an accomplished liar. She did slip up a little when she started telling people that her mother poisoned her with DDT though. That one was pretty bad and nobody fell for it that I know of, even with her claim of having a toxicology report.

I’ve got to go back and re-read and highlight, but I remember reading in the book, The Sociopath Next-Door, by Martha Stout Ph.d, I think she mentioned something about how to recognize a sociopath was how they were a victim or wanted people to feel sorry for them. Like I said, I need to go back and re-read that book, and use a highlighter, but I remember reading that and thinking (ding, ding, ding, ding), “Yep, that’s Emma, always the victim.”

If you work with the public, or talk to people who work with the public, a lot of people will tell you that there’s a whole lot of undiagnosed mental illness out there. In other words, there are lots of crazy folks. For those of us who follow the rules, we are at a disadvantage. Someone like Emma with her “disregard for the safety of others” has the advantage. That’s how the unsuspecting commuter, waiting for a subway, gets pushed off the platform into the path of the oncoming train. Those of us that follow the rules feel we should be safe, standing, waiting for the subway. It’s the ol’ “do unto others” all over again. We certainly wouldn’t push someone in front of an oncoming train, so we should be able to stand there, perfectly safe, but there are people who don’t live by the same rules. We don’t recognize them, but THEY recognize US. That sweet baby who grew in my belly knows she’s safe. He mother isn’t going to harm her, but those rules only apply to some people, and the sociopath, can push her mother off the subway platform and not feel a thing, except maybe a little excitement. Causing chaos and pain can be fun to watch if you enjoy that sort of thing, and a lot of crazy folks have that need for drama.

I think Emma is what is called a high-functioning sociopath. I’ll let my readers google that one, and just say that that is why so many sociopaths are NOT in jail, where you think they would be. They are smart and know just how to push, manipulate, and control the situation enough and they know just how far they can go before they cross the line into illegal activity, so while they might lie, steal, frame a coworker, etc., they’re going to stop before they go too far.

Until next time, and thanks for reading!

Happy 24th Birthday, Emma Buchheim

 

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 Frisco, Texas where Tyler, who has put architecture on hold, is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School in an effort to avoid a midlife crisis (according to Tyler).  Emma works in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area as an insurance underwriter.   Emma and Tyler are the parents to two little dogs, Arya and Sansa.  (Emma is a huge Game of Thrones fan.)  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.

 

Happy Birthday Emma—— #24!

Wow! I was writing last week in anticipation of Emma’s birthday, and then it almost slipped by me! December 19th used to be the most special day of the year to me, the birth of my baby girl (December 19, 1993). You look at your child growing year by year, and can’t imagine your life without her, and her birthday is kind of like Christmas, a day to remind you of this very special gift you were given. I remember, as I got older thinking how it is such a short time that we have our children. You give birth and raise them, and they are so all consuming that they take up your entire life, and then, if you raise them right, they spread their wings and go out on their own, and then when you think about it, we really only have our children for maybe 1/5th of our life, and then they have their own life. Then, the time we have with them seems so short. In an ideal world, that’s how it is supposed to be, and even though Emma has done some horrible things, she’s still my little girl, and I’ll always love her. Here’s the post I wrote last week:

I’ve been thinking about Emma’s upcoming birthday and her turning 24 years old. Not too long ago, I was shopping for a birthday card for a friend and saw one that made me think of Emma, and that reminded me of a card I had wanted to purchase for Emma a few years before.

On Emma’s 18th birthday, I wasn’t going to contact her lest she take out a restraining order, and, per my attorney, she’d asked Phill’s attorney, Seith Eisenberg over and over again about getting a restraining order against her mother. Then, when Emma knew I would be at a ladies’ bible study group, down the street from our Buck Trail, Hoschton home, Emma called the police and claimed a car that looked like her mother’s pulled up in the driveway! (It was dark when she made the claim, and from the house you would only be able to see headlights, so she wouldn’t have been able to tell what kind of car it was if indeed someone pulled up in our driveway, but since people frequently did turn around in our driveway, it’s possible that it did happen. Fortunately, I suspected Emma might pull something like this and had friends follow me into the neighborhood and follow me out so that I would have witnesses if Emma tried to claim something even worse happened.) Oh, noooooo, I sure wasn’t going to send my daughter a birthday card, but I happened to be card shopping one day in December of 2011 and saw the card I wanted to send Emma. It was pink and had a Chihuahua on it, right up Emma’s alley. (Although, oddly enough, I took our little Chihuahua with me when Phill had me thrown out of our home, and Emma never asked about him, up until his death, and one of the reasons we adopted the little guy was because Emma wanted a small dog so badly. Odd that she cared nothing of him once hie was gone, but Emma now owns tow chi/mixes, Arya and Sansa.)

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Emma Roey, Emma Kate Roey, Emma Katherine Roey, Emma Buchheim, Emma Katherine Buchheim, Emma Kate Buchheim

 

That card I wanted to buy Emma, the old Emma, the Emma I thought I knew, was pink, with a chihuahua on it, and on the front it said, “I smile because you’re my daughter.” and when you opened it up, it read, “I laugh because there’s nothing you can do about it.” Ok, if you’re on any kind of social media, you’ve probably seen this meme with the word “daughter” interchangeable for sister, mother, etc. I’ve seen it many times since then, but this was the first time I’d seen it and I thought it was sweet and funny, and of course since Emma loved Chihuahuas, it seemed perfect, but I didn’t get it. A birthday card from her mother might be too traumatic for 18 year old Emma.

It never fails, around the holidays, I find something I would like to get for Emma, and I remember back in 2011buying some earrings I wanted to give to her, and I’d read the book, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” by Richard Carlson Ph.D. and thought Emma could use that book, sort of like a book of devotionals, just something you pick up once a day or so to remind you what’s important in life. I also found a purse that I thought Emma would love. It was quirky and cute and just reminded me of Emma in one of her silly moods.

Now, several years later, I have no idea what Emma likes. Is green still her favorite color? Did she ever learn to eat anything at the Chinese restaurant other than egg drop soup and sesame chicken? Did she ever try anything at the Mexican restaurant besides a cheese quesadilla? Did she ever learn to like any vegetables besides green beans and corn? Living next-door to a vegetarian for several years, I learned a lot about cooking vegetables, and I would love to tell Emma to learn how to roast her vegetables, and maybe this year I would get her a hot air fryer as I got myself one and I love cooking vegetables with it. I wanted to tell Emma that Brussel sprouts are now my favorite after hating them for 50 years. Emma and I used to make a lot of noise when we’d come home and Phill would have microwaved these nasty noodle-type pot stickers that were gross and smelled so bad. Even now, I’m not sure I would like those nasty things Phill used to make (they were meant to be fried, but there were all soggy and just kind of gross) but I do love brussel sprouts.

Sometimes, I’ll read a book or see a movie and think how Emma would have loved it. I miss our discussions over books, movies, current events. Lately, I’ve been watching A&E’s Scientology and the Aftermath, and it made me more curious about Scientology and cults, and I’ve wondered how people get sucked in to these things that sound so crazy to me, so I’ve watched a few other programs, read some things on line, and am waiting on Tony Ortega’s book The Unbreakable Miss Lovely, which I put a hold on at the library. (Wow, talk about being falsely accused! I’m thankful Emma hadn’t read this book! It would have just given her more ideas on how to frame her mother!) I thought how much I would have enjoyed watching these programs and discussing them with Emma. I remember a conversation we had about cults and religion when Emma was about 15 or 16. I wonder what else Emma watches besides Game of Thrones. I know Tyler is a big Notre Dame fan, so did Emma ever get into watching football? Since Tyler wrote some kind of golf links program, I’m assuming he plays golf, and I wonder if Emma likes golf too? Emma always hated exercise, so I wonder if she ever found anything she likes to do.

Does Emma like her job? Is insurance something she wants to do long term? I would love to know how Emma got into being an underwriter. I would love to have one of those relationships, like my friends have with their adult kids, where I would get a daily text, “Hi mom….” but that is something not meant to be at this time in my life, and I’m really ok with it. Emma is not the person she pretends to be, and she and I both know it, so they only way she can keep up the pretense is to cut out those in her life who know the truth about her.

I’ve also been thinking about how supposedly the brain is mature around age 25, so Emma has one more year to go. As I understand it, the part of the brain that handles rational thought is not fully developed until then, and that sure makes a lot of sense with Emma! I guess in another year, she will be what she will be, so it will be interesting to see how she is then. Looking at all the things Emma’s done, it’s a little scary that she was considered an adult at 18, and yet I know a great group of college kids, and while they are young, I see a maturity in them then I don’t think Emma ever had. Emma knew how to “act” mature, but that’s not the same thing. Was Emma’s “storytelling” just part of her growing up and every story was like a rehearsal for her, a practice of her craft, so to speak? Was Emma’s harmless lying just practice for her version of a “shaggy dog” story?

And what about Emma’s habit of lying? Looking back, I realize Phill and I were way to trusting of everything Emma said, and almost everything Emma said about kids at school, kids a church, her youth group leaders, neighbors, etc. was a lie. Most of these were fairly harmless lies, and Emma could be so convincing, but with so many lies, I wonder if Emma is even capable of telling the truth.

When Emma, my sister, and I went up to the William Holland School in Young Harris, Ga. for a week, I think it was either 2009 or 2010, Emma was trying out her new found maturity. Emma kept putting on this fake voice and talking to people. As her mother, it was really weird to listen to my daughter who did not sound like herself at all stand there and have a conversation with someone. These people didn’t know her, so they didn’t know what she normally sounded like. I just wanted to say, “Cut it out. Do you not know how ridiculous you sound?” but I didn’t say a word. Later on, my sister and I were having a conversation about teens or something, and she mentioned like Emma and her fake voice, and how she was trying it out, finding herself or whatever. Thank goodness that phase was fairly short lived and Emma went back to sounding like her normal self again, but remembering Emma and her fakey voice made me wonder if her lying was just part of her growing up, too, sort of a way to try out things. A lot of Emma’s lies seemed more like attempts to tell a great story. Is that what she was doing or is she really a compulsive or a pathological liar? I guess time will tell.

And of course, there’s Emma’s ever elusive conscience. Does she have one? I’ve heard a couple of people with mental illness say that they wanted to study psychology to figure out what was wrong with themselves. That’s a scary thought. Emma’s therapist, Dr. Genie Burnett, who Emma thought was way cool and understood her so much better than her mother did, grew up with an eating disorder, so was that why she studied psychology? To understand her own issues better? It’s kind of scary to think of these people, who have their mental illnesses or personality disorders getting degrees so they can “help” others. I’ve talked to enough people who’ve told me about their own negative experiences with therapy, so I can’t help but wonder if a lot these “bad therapists” became therapists because they knew they were lacking something in themselves, so they had to study other people. I remember in college, in a psychology class, when our teacher was lecturing and started bawling, and I think it was one of our other teacher, after we told her about this strange encounter, who told us that anyone who works in psychology or therapy she would guarantee is in some kind of therapy themselves. We all thought that seemed to make sense because our crazy psych teacher sure seemed to need some kind of therapy.

Along with wanting to become a therapist herself after her time being influenced by Dr. Genie Burnett (Manna Treatment and Counseling), Emma may have partly been interested in drama so she could learn how to act normal. Someone said that to me once, that Emma doesn’t know how to feel, but she knows what she is supposed feel and she knows how she is supposed to act, and as Emma’s mom, that makes a lot sense. (But if you know Emma, you have to know how loves being the start of the show, so part of Emma’s love for drama is her love for the attention it brought her as well.)

The one thing I wish for Emma is peace. I’m afraid she is a very troubled soul, and I hope one day she gets help, if it turns out she can be helped. As Emma’s mother, I’m going to keep telling her story. If my daughter is going to accuse me of abuse and of poisoning her with DDT, I will continue to call her out on it. Emma knows I will happily take down the blog if she steps up and takes responsibility for what she’s done, but she’s not ready to do that yet. Emma knows as well that my door is always open to her. Well, I guess not literally. I don’t feel like I could safely let Emma into my home without a witness present. Lord only knows what she would accuse me of next. Maybe what I should say is that my phone is always open to Emma should she want to call. I don’t expect to hear from her anytime soon though. She still has some growing up to do.

When I was married, I was very sheltered, which probably wasn’t a good thing for an introvert. My world was Phill and Emma. As horrible as losing my family was, there are a lot of good things that have come out of it since. All those things you’ve heard, like “Life is a journey not a destination.” start to make sense, and I realize the power I have in my own life. I was one of Emma’s victims, but I’m not going to wallow in it. I’m a survivor and a lot tougher than I would have thought. Emma seemed to live in a victim role. The scenery may have changed, but Emma kept playing the same role. For me, going back to work has been and adventure and a learning experience. Working with the public has made me wonder many things. Sometimes I think there may be a lot more mental illness out there than people realize. Other times, I hear stories that would break your heart, and I wish Emma could realize how difficult some people have it, and that there was no need for her to make up all the drama in her life. If she lived the way some people have had to, I wonder if she would appreciate all that she truly had. Phill and I used to say how happy we were that our lives were so boring, while we didn’t necessarily mean “boring” but really just meant that we didn’t have a lot of drama. I hope one day Emma can appreciate a boring life.

So Emma, Happy Birthday, and here’s your card:

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Lot’s of Love,

Mom

P.S. Since I probably won’t have another chance to write before Christmas, I want to wish you and Tyler a very Merry Christmas as well! And be sure to tell Sherry, Bob, and Caitlin Merry Christmas from your mother as well.

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.

Collateral

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

 

 

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

stick figure boy exercising with weights

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

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

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

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

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

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

well

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tree on house

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

Facebook Memories

 

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.  

agilitybennyb

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.

 

Attention, Agendas, and New Friends

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.

untitled-23

Emma going up and down a tree at the home of Carl Lehmann, Phill’s work partner.

I apologize to my readers for not keeping up with the blog.  I’m trying to get myself to organize my time a little better and work on writing more, but it’s hard to do between work and other obligations, and with the holidays coming, it gets even busier!  I’ve had some topics on my mind, but just haven’t sat down to write, so I’m posting something I was recently thinking about.

Attention, Agendas, and New Friends

With what’s going on in politics, and the women who have come forward at the last minute before the election to accuse Donald Trump of sexual abuse or harassment, I’ve had some conversations with people about sexual abuse, lying, reasons for lying, etc. The current events got me thinking about Emma’s lies and comparing her situation with what’s going on during this election season.

I haven’t really kept up with the allegations concerning Donald Trump. Apparently there are several women who accused him of sexual harassment or sexual assault. I tried to google the numbers, but those seem to change. It doesn’t really matter to me. Yes, I did hear the video of Mr. Trump speaking to Billy Bush, and yes it was crude and disgusting, and yes, I have been in situations where I’ve heard men speak the same way. (To be fair, in my situation of hearing men speak this way, the main one that comes to mind was when I was younger and worked as a waitress with some young guys. I thought of t their talk as bravado and masochism, and just thought of them as jerks with some growing up to do.) I’m not passing judgment on Mr. Trump either way right now. I’m not making a judgment as to whether these stories or true or not.

The timing of these accusations does make it appear that these women have an agenda. And yes, I do get that it takes one brave person to step forward and then others will follow. Also, apparently Mrs. Clinton was working on the Alicia Machado story for quite some time before bringing it up at the debate, so again, the fat shaming story was part of an agenda.

So, in reading about children and lying, I’ve wondered a lot about why children make up accusations about being molested or sexually abused, and I’ve wondered about Emma’s agenda in accusing the priest she accused of sexual assault. I know children don’t realize how much their story can harm another person, so of course they are not thinking of the ramifications of their actions, but from what I’ve read, the big reason is for attention, and that got me thinking about Emma’s need for attention. Why did Emma need to make up the abuse story?

I think a few things that come into play in the case of Emma’s accusing the priest of molestation are:

  1. Emma was failing an on line Physics class, so she told the teacher she’d been molested, couldn’t focus on school, etc.
  2. Emma was upset over the boy she liked losing interest in her.
  3. Emma had no close friends, and her two best friends were Kayla Weaver, whom she saw maybe twice a year, and “Lacey” who started out as pen-pal from an English assignment and became a friend through letters, e-mail, and texting, but whom Emma had never met. Phill and I did not realise that Emma was telling us many lies about “Lacey” and her family.
  4. Emma was bored. (I think we all know that bored teenagers, especially teens with a high IQ will find something to relieve their boredom whether it be something positive or something negative.)

As for Emma not having any friends, I didn’t think of this as a problem until I read Dr. Richard Born’s somewhat lacking (in my opinon) Psychological assessment of Emma. Emma wasn’t comfortable with kids her own age. Oh, she was a great leader or organizer. She made a great youth group secretary and could call or text the kids and remind them where to be and when, but she never really hung out with any of the kids other than in the youth group activities, and more typically at church, Emma liked being responsible for younger kids where she was in charge rather than a peer. Phill and I tried to encourage her to have kids over, were happy to host, cook, take them places or do whatever, but I realize now that was more us trying to encourage Emma, but Emma didn’t try to be a friend. And like a lot of kids, Emma could have a ton of friends on Facebook, and she could carry on some witty banter for a few lines, so she thought she was popular in that way.

One child, who Emma played with a few times when she was oh, I think middle school aged, described Emma as bossy, and lost interest in playing with Emma, and I think I understand it now. At the time, I thought it was just personality differences, but it was more that Emma would run things and wasn’t really being a friend.

It always made me sad that in 17 years of raising Emma, I never saw her have that “best friend” that so many of us remember fondly from childhood. Often, we’d invite a new friend to spend the night, and then they would reciprocate, and maybe see each other once or twice more, but that would be it. Emma didn’t seem to bond to anyone. Sadly, and as much as Emma would hate to admit this, I think I was her best friend up until she cried “child abuse.” I was often the person she sat with and cuddled and poured out her thoughts to, right up until she decided she didn’t need a mother anymore, but that is another story.

As for attention, I always thought Emma had PLENTY. As a homeschooling mom, I was at her beck and call, and Phill doted on her when he wasn’t on the road or out flying rc airplanes. We had a lot of fun as a family, just doing little things together, but she was always the center of our world. Yes, I know she was spoiled, but at the time, I thought no more than any other kid we knew.

Emma was very involved in church activities, in other things besides the youth group, and I was always proud of how she could socialize with people of any age, and wasn’t like some kids who clammed up and didn’t speak unless they were among kids their own age. I thought Emma got a lot out of having conversations with adults as well as kids, and I felt like she was exposed to a lot of people she wouldn’t have been exposed to had she been in public school, so I never felt like she was the “unsocialized homeschooler” but, as I said, I didn’t realize Emma was so uncomfortable around kids her own age.

Emma had belonged to a homeschool arts program, where I worked as well, and this was a big social activity for the homeschool kids. They would show up, greet their buddies, hang out between classes and after class, have lunch together, etc., but Emma really didn’t do much of that. She didn’t make any good friends, and she didn’t hang out much with the other kids. She would hang out in my classroom. She just never quite fit in, but I think she didn’t try to fit in.

A lot of the kids loved Drama, as did Emma, but Emma didn’t want to take the drama classes because there were too many kids and not enough parts. She wanted to be a lead, and there was too much competition. She also complained about how the end of the year program was written so that many of the kids would have some sort of speaking part. She didn’t like that teacher tried to include everyone and not just have a few star parts, so Emma would take some other elective and then was rarely happy with her choice. I know kids complain about school, and that’s just what they do, but it really wasn’t until Emma got to Jackson County Comprehensive High School that Emma found her true love, Drama with Mrs. Bonnie Roberts. That is, until the 2nd semester when Emma couldn’t have a big part in the play after having been the star the first semester. Suddenly, she didn’t care that much about Drama anymore and that was when Emma started a lot of throwing up and missed so much school we had to pull her out and finish the semester on line.

Emma lost interest and later quit the homeschool arts program. I continued to teach there, which was a bone of contention with her. I think Emma was always a little jealous that I had a great time with the kids in my classes.

I have to wonder, was Emma’s making up a tale of being sexually molested partly in response to the lack of attention she’d been receiving. She’d loved being the star of Metamorphosis, but 2nd semester was a let down. She had no friends at school, and no longer was the queen of the drama class she’d loved so much. If I remember right, Emma couldn’t even take drama that semester and had to take PE and Health instead, so school was a real bummer. Is this part of what led to all the vomiting and then later the molestation accusation? Emma had gone from being a star to being just another kid. Was she not getting enough attention?

I think a big mistake we made in Emma’s case was not to question Emma about the abuse. If someone had dug in to get her to explain every detail, I think her story probably would have fallen apart right away, but we treated her like the delicate, fragile, wounded child, and Phill and I didn’t question her, leaving it up to the professionals. If you’ve read my earlier posts, you know that both Dr. Elizabeth Genie Burnett and Suzie Mcgarvey both claimed that Emma would not talk about the abuse. There was nothing to talk about, so she started complaining about her Mother instead.

Anyway, what got me on this topic today, was thinking about the accusers of Donald Trump and the timing of the accusations. With the accusations coming out right before an election, it seems that there is some sort of agenda to these accusations. This really got me wondering about Emma and her agenda at the time. Was it just for attention? I’m sure Emma didn’t realize how much attention she would receive once all the local authorities got involved, the church, the police, the attorneys, the therapists, etc. Is that what Emma loved so much? Being the victim (volunteer) and being the center of attention because she was that poor child who’d been a victim of the crime of sexual abuse? Just how much attention does a child need?

Or did Emma need an excuse for failing her physics class? Emma had always been a good student, so failing a class would be a huge embarrassment to her. Saying she couldn’t focus on school because of repressed memories of sexual abuse suddenly appearing was a much better excuse than failing because she was spending too much time in chat rooms and writing letters to her pen-pal.

Emma lost the attention of the boy she liked, but got so much more attention once she announced she was the victim of sexual assault.

Emma didn’t have any close friends, so in claiming abuse she got a lot of “new friends” in the form of DFACS, social workers, therapists, police detectives, etc.

Anyway, so my thoughts were on Attention and Agendas today. I hope one day to learn just exactly why Emma choose to make up the abuse story. Since Emma claimed her sexual abuse was brought up because of repressed memories that came up when “Lacey” was raped and attempted suicide, and since was know “Lacey” WAS NOT raped and did not attempt suicide, was Emma already planning the sexual abuse story when she made up the rape story, or did she think that far ahead?  And, at the time of the rape story, Emma was very moody and rude to her dad, claiming he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. Phill likes to believe that Emma said these things because she was dealing with her repressed memories and was taking it out on him. I have to wonder if Emma was planning on accusing her dad of sexual abuse, but then couldn’t do it, so she chose the priest instead. One day, I hope we’ll have the answers to these questions.

Emma Changes Churches **Updated 9/13/16

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.

Emma and Holy Trinity Anglican Church

holytrinity

This is one of those posts that is way out of order, so if you are one of my regular readers just skip down to the ************************ below while I give a brief introduction for my new readers as to what was going on at the time of which I’m writing about. I have 17 years of Emma’s life to write about, and then eventually, I will go back and put everything in order.

In late 2009, Emma had been really, really ugly to her dad, claiming her called her a “bitch” and a “slut” on a daily basis, saying she did not like the way her dad touched her, etc. Then, on her 16th birthday, Dec. 19, 2009, as Phill and I picked her up from her church youth group, Emma told us she’d received a call from her on-line friend, “Lacey” who lived in Dalton, Ga., and that “Lacey” had been raped and called Emma from the ER and was hysterical. Then the story changed to “Lacey” had tried to commit suicide after being raped.

A few months later, on her dad’s birthday, March 21, 2010, Emma told her dad and I that she had been molested by a priest when she was 12 and claimed that the catalyst for bringing up her repressed memories was “Lacey’s” rape and suicide attempt. Emma had been speaking to one of her church youth group leaders about her “molestation” and this woman had reported it to our church Deacon who go involved on Emma’s behalf and found out what we had to do formally to file a complaint with the church……………………….then the police and DFACS got involved……………………….and you can go back through the blog for more of that part of the story.

At the time, we’d gone to our church for maybe 10 years. I thought we had a church home where we would continue to go for years and years and that maybe one day my daughter would get married there. Emma was very involved in many activities at church: Sunday School (both going and then assistant teaching when she was in 9th grade), the children’s choir, VBS, the newsletter group, the youth group, serving as an acolyte and a lay reader….. anything she wanted to be involved in, Phill and I made sure she was able to be there.

During this time, Emma got her heart broken by a boy who was interested in her and then dropped her and was paying attention to another girl. She was also failing her on line physics class, and these two events may have contributed greatly to Emma making up the “molestation” story. Emma was always a good student as long as it was a subject she was interested in, so she should not have been failing, but at the time, I think Emma spent way too much time writing letters to “Lacey” and on-line chatting with “Lacey” and other students, and not doing her schoolwork.

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So, at this point, we’d filed a complaint with the church, dealt with the sheriff’s department, DFACS, Gwinnett Co. detectives, therapists, etc. Emma and I were the ones to make all the decisions about these things, with a lot of help and advice from our church Deacon who also wanted to see this situation handled properly. Phill was very passive and left everything to me to decide how to handle things. I would try to talk things over with him, but he never voiced any opinion about how we should proceed. It probably should have been something we worked together on, but he took a passive role. Of course, if Emma’s parents hadn’t been idiots, we would have investigated some of her stories and caught on to her lying a lot sooner, but that is water under the bridge. We certainly we not going to call up “Lacey’s” parents, whom we’d never met, and ask about the rape and suicide attempt. Even when we were going through the divorce, my attorney was very uncomfortable with getting in touch with “Lacey’s” parents just because if the story turned out to be true, it seemed like such an intrusion into the family. Later on, when my attorney discovered how much Emma had lied about, he didn’t feel like you could trust anything Emma said, and Phill’s attorney had issues with Emma as well.

So……………………we are cruising along with all this drama. We went to church sporadically, and Emma pretty much quit going. Because of the way the church handled, or seemingly ignored our complaint (The incident was reported in March, and we did not hear from anyone until the Bishop came to our home in July to speak with us.) I was not comfortable going to our church anymore either. Phill was ambivalent and would go to church if I was going, but had no opinion about anything either way.

We pretty much quit going to church, and then Emma visited a few churches, checking out the youth Sunday School classes, and she continued to go to the youth group at 12 Stone church at Hamilton Mill in Buford Ga., but she didn’t want to go to church there. It was a huge church, and very different than what we were used to. One of the things that bothered Emma was that some of the modern churches had no icons. It was like walking into an auditorium. There wasn’t a cross to be seen.

Another story that was interesting was when Emma went to visit Hamilton Mill Methodist Church. I had dropped Emma off for Sunday School and then she went to church and I met her afterwards. I don’t remember Emma’s specific complaints about the Sunday School class. It was something fairly mild like they just sat around a table and didn’t do anything, but the more interesting comments came after she went to church. If you remember the story about the couple that Phill and I played cards with, and how Emma did not like their son and later claimed he destroyed a book that belonged to her, thus pretty much ending the friendship between the parents, Emma claimed that this family was sitting in front of her at church. (Oh, my! Emma could not go to church there! Since her arch enemy was her age, they would be in the same Sunday School class! She simply could not have that!) I thought this was odd because they had left our church and had been attending another church, in Sugar Hill, Ga., when we were still friends, and I knew they were quite happy where they were going. Another reason I questioned this story was because I knew this family, and if they came to church, they usually attended Sunday school as well. It’s possible they could have changed churches again, but I always wondered if Emma made up this story just because she did not like Hamilton Mill Methodist for whatever reason.

NOTE: Had I to do it over again, I wish now we’d sat Emma and the young man down together and not let either one go until we got the truth out of who destroyed Emma’s book. It’s sad that a friendship between parents ended based on the lies of a child. This is another example of how much control and power we inadvertently gave to Emma.

One day we visited Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Flowery Branch, Ga.

www.holytrinityflowerybranch.org

Holy Trinity was a very small church, but the liturgy was very similar to what we were used to, so of course it was very comfortable to us. (Phill was not interested in participating in finding a new church and pretty much left it up to Emma and me. He would go when we decided where we wanted to go, but he was not going to visit churches and participate in deciding where we would like to go for worship. )

After a couple of visits, Emma and I liked Holy Trinity, but it was hard for me to leave my old church behind. Being somewhat of an introvert, it took me a long time to feel comfortable there, and I wasn’t eager to leave and start over somewhere else. My heart just wasn’t in it. I finally told Emma if she really wanted to go there we probably needed to talk to the pastor and let him know why we were looking for a church, so Emma called up Fr. George Ivey and told him her story. Emma got off the phone, and immediately told me that Fr. George knew the priest Emma had accused and said that when she told him about her “molestation,” even before she said who, Fr. George told her that that priest was the first person he thought of. I’m not sure what kind of bad blood there was between Fr. George and the other priest, but I do remember him telling us about when the Anglican Bishop visited and that priest refused communion from him.

Anyway, Fr. George wanted to meet with us, so Phill, Emma and I went to Fr. George and Paulette Ivey’s beautiful home in Buford, Ga. Sure enough, Emma wasn’t lying this time, Fr. George told us that when Emma told him about being “molested” the first person he thought of was the man Emma had accused.

Fr. George was comforting and supportive, and I felt better about going to a new church since he knew why we were looking for a new church home. Fr. George also got very involved with Emma’s drama, helping to find attorneys, going to interviews, etc.

We began attending Holy Trinity which meant Sunday School, then coffee, and then church. As I mentioned, the church was very small. Sunday School might consist of about 10 people and church might be about 20-25. There were only a few other teens, so there really wasn’t much to offer in the way of a youth group, but Emma didn’t mind. She seemed to prefer being around adults anyway. Partly, I think Emma preferred adults because adults were to eaisly impressed with how smart, polite, etc. she was. She gave a great first impression. (If you have read Dr. Richard Born’s Psychological Evaluation of Emma, you will remember that he mentioned she was not comfortable around her peers.)

Phill and I loved Fr. George’s Sunday School classes. He was the best Sunday School teacher we’d ever had. We felt bad that the church was so small and people were missing out on such interesting and informative classes. Fr. George was an extremely smart man and he had a passion for studying and learning and he generously shared his knowledge. While it wouldn’t have been near as lucrative as his business career, Fr. George would have made a great teacher. Paulette Ivey, however, was an elementary school teacher at Ivy Creek Elementary School, in Buford, Ga.

Things rolled along. Emma began serving as an acolyte at our new church……. Emma was still going to therapy, working on her “sexual molestation” and we were dealing with things with our old church. Fr. George knew someone who worked in, I believe it was the ER, in a hospital in Cumming, Ga., and had discussed Emma’s story with her. She had recommended an attorney firm nearby, and we set up an interview with them. Fr. George went with Phill, Emma, and I to meet two attorneys at this firm. They were interested in Emma’s story, but claimed not to have the “war chest” it would take file the lawsuit against the church.

It was around Oct. of 2010 that I said something to Emma about Allen Hunt. Allen Hunt was a Methodist minister (now Catholic) who had a radio program on WSB radio on Sunday evenings that I, and often Emma, enjoyed listening to. I knew he did work raising money for a home for abused children, and I wondered if he could help us. Emma asked me to write him, and I suggested she write to him as I thought it would mean more coming from her, the “victim.”

Now, Phill likes to say that I, the evil mommy, forced Emma to sit down and write an e-mail to Mr. Hunt. I can assure you that I did not, but I guess Phill can use his standby line that oh, yes I did, but I “blocked it out” and have no memory of forcing Emma to sit at the computer and compose and send an e-mail.

Emma happily wrote off an e-mail and sent it. We quickly received a reply from Mr. Hunt who recommended a place for counseling and who also recommended the firm of Cruiser and Mitchell in Norcross, Ga. Bill Mitchell was a personal friend of Allen Hunt’s and in fact, Mr. Hunt called Mr. Mitchell to tell him about Emma’s story. When I called to set up an appointment, Mr. Mitchell wanted to meet with us right away. I called Fr. George who dropped everything to meet us at the firm’s office.

Fr. George was a tremendous help in explaining the hierarchy of the church, rules, etc. to the attorneys. I won’t go into detailing that meeting again as I have already told that story. For those of you who haven’t read it, you will have to go back through earlier posts in the blog.

Not long after we started attending Holy Trinity, we went to the ordination of Bishop Foley Beach in Atlanta. Foley Beach had left the Episcopal church after the 2003 General Convention in which a homosexual, Gene Robinson was elected Bishop of the Diocese of New Hampshire. Bishop Robinson was the first openly gay priest to be consecrated in the Episcopal church, and for anyone in the church during this time, there was a lot of fall out over Bishop Robinson. Our particular church had been growing and had gone to three services on Sunday mornings, but after the General Convention and Bishop Robinson’s consecration, a lot of folks left the church, some temporarily, and some permanently. Our three services were cut to two, but could have easily been cut to one. I think they only kept the 8:30 (early service) for the people who wanted to come to church early so they could get on with their day. If you went to the 10:30 service, by the time you got out and got home, the day was half over, and the early risers didn’t want to waste their day.

Phill was working, but Emma and I went to Bishop Beach’s ordination along with our friend, Janice, who’d grown up as a neighbor of Foley Beach’s wife, Allison. Foley Beach had been the rector at St. Alban’s Epicopal Church in Monroe, Ga. until he left the church and then he became the rector at Holy Cross Anglican Church in Loganville before he became the Bishop.

Befoe meeting with Emma’s attorneys, Fr. George Ivey had spoken to Foley Beach and had told us that Foley Beach was meeting with the Episcopal church and that he would talk to Bishop Alexander about Emma. Just before the ordination of Foley Beach as Bishop, we had settled on Emma’s attorney, and I will never forget going through the receiving line, shaking hands with Bishop Foley Beach, and he said to Emma and I that he understood we were in good hands now, indicating we did not need his help. A short time later, I would be greatly disappointed in both Fr. George Ivey and Archbishop Foley Beach.

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Fr. George met Emma and I at the offfices of Cruiser and Mitchell, and we had an interview with Bill Mitchell and one of his associates, whom I believe was named Drew Ashby. The funny thing was, one of Phill’s RC buddies, Mike ( Mike Howell, I believe, but there were several Mikes in the RC group), had given Phill the name of an attorney for us to check out, and it happened to be Stephen Ashby, in Tucker, Ga., who was Drew’s father.

While Mr. Mitchell questioned Emma, Fr. George, and me, Drew Ashby took a lot of notes. At one point, I remember Emma stepped out, and Mr. Mitchell wanted to talk to me without Emma. (Hey, Dr. Richard Born, are you listening? This is something you missed when you did your Psych Eval on Emma!) Emma did a great job, acted very professional and mature as she acted out her drama for the attorneys. She explained how her friend “Lacey’s” rape was the catalyst for her remembering her own molestation when she was 12 years old. She went into detail about the priest following her into the women’s bathroom, pulling down her panties, and sticking a finger into her vagina. She answered all the attorneys questions confidently and was very composed. A couple of things that stood out to me from this session:

Mr. Mitchell said he would need to speak to Phill because often times when a child falsely accusess someone of sexual abuse, they are doing it to cover up the fact that it is someone close to them who molested them. (I have to wonder if this was where Emma got the idea to accuse her mother of abuse. Maybe one day, Emma will let me know.)

Mr. Mitchell mentioned that their firm takes one out of 1000 cases, and he wanted to take Emma’s case. He said he believed Emma and Drew believed Emma so strongly that he wasn’t sure Drew could be objective about Emma’s case.

Mr. Mitchell was firmly against the death penalty. As one who’s always favored the death penalty, when Mr. Mitchell talked about Project Innocence and explained his reasoning and cases he’d worked on, he gave me some things to think about after hearing his perspective.

When Fr. George asked how much we could expect to get from this lawsuit, Mr. Mitchell stated, “The sky is the limit.” His plan was to sue the priest, the church, and the diocese. He would have investigators look into the background of the priest, and they would have to interview Emma’s friend, “Lacey.” A short time later, Emma began making plans on how to spend her money. She could buy a car, use the money for college and would be able to afford to go away to college and not have to live at home, etc. She got a little giddy about her prospective windfall, and that worried me A LOT. I tried to explain to her that this was not about the money, that it was about punishing someone who did something very wrong.

After the interview, Emma and I felt very confident about the situation and indeed felt like we were in good hands. We walked outside with Fr. George and he stood with us in the parking lot and prayed before we all went separate ways.

As Emma and I were leaving, I asked her if she was ok with the attorneys talking with “Lacey” and Emma said she was. She said she had told “Lacey” that we were meeting with the attorneys and that they might need to speak with her and that “Lacey” was ok with it. (At this point, I did not know the whole story of “Lacey” being raped and attempting suicide was one of Emma’s big lies.) Emma had been worried about having to face her “sexual abuser” in court, but after meeting with Mr. Mitchell and Mr. Ashby, Emma said to me, “You know mom, with these lawyers helping me, I could testify in court!”

Emma was almost jubilant as we drove home. She had done a convincing job and had two attorneys that believed her. I guess she was proud of her performance. After dealing with the church attorney the month before (another post I need to write) who was quite unpleasant, I felt comfortable that we had someone looking out for our, but especially for Emma’s best interests.

Just after this meeting, I had to get some papers notarized and faxed back to the attorneys offices. Phill and I rushed around like mad and went to meet a friend from the ladies Bible study that Emma and I attended because she was a notary. I remember us dropping everything to meet her at the Braselton Cracker Barrel on her way home from work so that we could sign and she could notarize. No big deal to Emma that her parents were doing all this for nothing. Emma already knew the lawsuit would have to be stopped and she was working on her plan for stopping it. I hate thinking of how much time and energy was wasted by all parties on Emma’s little drama. Not just my time, but the time of the police, DFACS, social workers, the church, whom I’m sure all had better things to do than take a role in a 16 year old girl’s drama.

If you’ve read the blog, you know that just as Mr. Mitchell was about to file Emma’s lawsuit, Emma had Dr. Elizabeth (Genie) Burnett call the police to say Emma was being abused by her Mother (dramatic music playing in the background). You can read the police report earlier in the blog. I’m not going to rehash that here. I’ve already told that part of Emma’s story, but I wanted to tell about the church’s involvment, particularly Fr. George Ivey’s involvement in Emma’s drama.

In March of 2011, when Emma pulled her, “I want to live in a group home.” at the office of Suzie McGarvey, one of her many therapists, Phill fell apart and couldn’t handle Emma’s problems. Omigosh, his wife was a child abuser! What an idiot (ok that part is true) that it took him 17 years to see that! What an idiot that he had lived with this woman for over 28 years and he never knew she was violent! He had to have a divorce! And besides, there were other fish in the sea!

When Phill turned on me and decided to support Emma, I had no idea what was to come, that Phill would take out a TPO and have me thrown out of my home. My thoughts were to save my family and my marriage. I suspected there was something deeper going on. At this point I hadn’t discovered all Emma’s lies. I didn’t know that “Lacey” wasn’t actually raped, didn’t attempt suicide, her mother didn’t almost die of breast cancer, or that Emma had lied about many, many other things. I was trying to save my family. Even though I was angry at Phill for being so stupid, I thought surely he would come to his senses (boy was I wrong there!).

Phill and I discussed meeting with Fr. George for counseling, and if you’ve read the blog, Phill did go to on therapy session to try to save his marriage. I had talked to Fr. George after Emma accused me of abuse, and he told me he would never believe it. He’d been through his own drama with his two son’s and their addiction/substance abuse problems. Paulette had even told us about one time when he knocked down the bedroom door to their son’s room.

Fr. George told me he saw us every week in church, and he’d noticed how much Emma leaned on me, rested her head on my shoulder, held my hand, put her arm around me, grabbed my arm and put it around her, etc. She was such a touchy feely kid towards me, there was no way he believed she was abused.

After Phill had me thrown out of our home, Fr. George changed his mind about meeting with us about counseling. I knew there’d been a divorce where he’d tried to counsel the couple, and he was called to testify at the divorce. I didn’t know the couple and didn’t know anything about the divorce. I got an e-mail from Fr. George saying he did not want to get involved and one of the funny things I remember was that he mentioned that they tried to make him perjure himself. I thought it kind of funny that he spelled perjure wrong.

This was one of my biggest disappointments in Fr. George Ivey. He knew our family was in crisis. He did not believe Emma, and we were parishioners at his church. I always thought a priest was supposed to care for his flock. Fr. George seemed to care more about the thought of possibly being inconvenienced with his fear of having to testify in another divorce case than he cared about a family in his church. That hard to fathom. I lost all respect for Fr. George after this. I know priests/pastors are human and just as flawed as the rest of us, but I thought caring for your parishioners was part of the job. It seemed that Fr. George just wanted to lecture and stand in front of his church, but God help him if he actually had to get his hands dirty.

Because of the TPO, I could no longer attend church if Phill and Emma were there. My only hope was to get Phill to counseling, so that he could realize Emma had some problems, but Phill decided there was too much water under the bridge and he didn’t want to be married to me anymore. He had no desire to fix our family or our marriage. And besides, SEFF was the following month, and he sure wasn’t going to miss that!

I also sent a letter to Archbishop Foley Beach, since he’d been aware of our drama, explaining what was going on. I got a nice little card from him saying I was in his prayers. (Much easier than actually getting involved.)

To be continued…………

A Note for Emma

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.

facepaintEmma painted her face while helping with a 12Stone Church project where people went out to do things in the community.  Some of our friends from Bible study belonged to this church, and Emma wanted to go.  She ended up making balloon animals and doing face painting.

Hi Emma,

I realize your 1st anniversary is coming up, and I’ll write a little about that later.  I just wanted to mention that I got an e-mail that you might want to read.  Let me know, and I will forward it do you.  I’m certainly not going to contact you without your permission.  After all, we don’t want you to have to go to the trouble of taking out a restraining order against your mother.  Anyway, I’m not going to post it here and embarrass the person who sent it.

I got a little chuckle when I was at WalMart the other day.  Look what I found:

Emmatoes

Not what I was looking for, but this caught my eye and reminded me of when you kicked your bathroom cabinet “accidentally” and you SCREAMED and Daddy and I came running.  I checked you over and said that if your toe was broken, a doctor wouldn’t do anything about it anyway, and since you could move your foot, and it wasn’t swollen, I wasn’t worried.  Then  two nights later you got Dr. Genie Burnett (Manna Treatment and Counseling, Lawrenceville, Ga) to call the police because she was so worried that you were in danger from your evil mother!  The police came, and when they spoke you you alone, you told them how your mother had abused you and you showed them your “broken toes” which were all pink from the cherry popsicle sticks you used to secure your toes.  (We always had a house full of Popsicles due to you frequent vomiting.)

I won’t retell the whole story here because I’ve already done that, but I saw these in Walmart and they did give me a chuckle, thinking about that incident.  I was thinking that when you want to accuse Tyler of abuse, here you go!  A product for securing your toes when your husband breaks them.  Oh, and by the way, you might want to use grape popsicle sticks instead of the cherry ones.  Having broken my toe a couple of years ago, it should look more like this:

Emmabrokentoe

and not be pink from the popsicle sticks.  Details, darling.  You want to get it right!

In all seriousness though, I would love it if when I publish the column about your vomiting issues, if you wanted to contribute.  I would love to have your side of the story as to what you think made you throw up all those years. (I know you claimed I poisoned you with DDT, but we all know that’s not true.  That was one of your lies that you didn’t really think through.)  If you are still studying to be a counselor, you may have some good insight as to what was going on in your head.

Also, I’m hoping one day you’ll be able to explain to us, why all the drama?  Daddy and I used to joke about how boring we were.  We loved you and we loved each other.  You had a pretty carefree childhood and got, within reason, pretty much whatever you wanted.  Why was that not enough?  Was it just too boring to be happy?  Why the need for all the drama?  Why all the need to be the victim?  (Volunteer, actually.)

Trifecta Part 2, Daddy’s Family (Part 1)

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.

caesarhat4sm

Emma Katherine Roey

Daddy’s  Family

Emma,  I’m writing a couple of these posts to you, and then I will get back to writing about you.  I would much rather write to you privately, but since I don’t want to be threatened with a restraining order, I will have to do it here.  I had hoped, when you grew up, we could discuss these things and you could learn from my mistakes.  I don’t want to trash your dad’s family, but I will tell you how things were from my perspective and from what your dad told me.  I think you know about a lot of the “scandals” so I’m not going into the details on those.

By now, I think you’ve realized that every family is dysfunctional.  You know about my family life because we discussed it, but I don’t think your dad ever really discussed his with you.  I can only tell you what he told me and what I saw for myself.  I hope that learning about your family helps you figure out who you are, and by learning about your dad’s family, you will understand why your dad couldn’t face what you did, how he doesn’t like to argue or confront anyone, or do anything difficult.

Your dad grew up in a pretty tumultuous household.  He always said he didn’t like to argue because all the fighting in his home growing up made him literally sick to his stomach and he hated arguing.   Even after your dad and I had been married for years he claimed he didn’t like to argue because he would still get sick to his stomach.  And you know your dad and I could have a disagreement or an argument, and we still loved each other.  By now, you’ve been married long enough to know you are going to have arguments with someone you live with so closely.

Daddy’s  parents were divorced when he was a toddler, and fortunately they got along amicably.  Your grandfather was very easy going and passive, so your grandmother kind of ran things, including his life.  It was kind of funny when they came to visit.  Everyone always thought it was so strange that your grandmother traveled with her ex-husband and her current boyfriend.

Your grandmother had two divorces and many boyfriends, according to your dad.  The first marriage was very brief, and the second marriage sounded pretty bad right from the start, and there was a lot of fighting then.  Your grandmother had quite a temper and could swear like a sailor, but she was a hard worker, very generous, and could be very loving and kind.  It sounded to me like your grandmother was one of those people who didn’t feel validated without a man.  When your dad was growing up, if she didn’t have a husband, she went from one boyfriend to the next.  She was a real people person, if you saw her at the restaurant, and she chatted with everyone,  was very friendly, and made her customers feel special.  There were several male customers who paid a lot of attention to her.  After your dad and I were married, even though she had a boyfriend, there was a man named Pat who hung around the restaurant a lot at the end of the day because he was very fond of your grandmother.  I thought this was a little odd because he was married, and your dad mentioned that it had upset Kenny (her then boyfriend).  For a while, Kenny wasn’t allowed to go up to the restaurant because he got too jealous of the men that paid attention to your grandmother.   Your dad also told me that Pat at one time gave your grandmother the key to his safety deposit box that had something like $100,000.00 in it and it would all be hers if she married him or something like that.

Because your grandmother had to work as a waitress, your dad and his uncle were raised by their grandmother, Stella, until they got old enough that they were home alone.  They were pretty young when they started staying home alone, but this was a different time.  Your great grandma, Stella is another story, and I will tell you about her later.

Growing up, Daddy, as the older brother was expected to be the peacemaker and give in to his little brother.  You dad described your uncle A. and a child who would hold his breath until he passed out or pitch a big fit if he didn’t get his way.  To get things calm, Daddy always had to be the one to give in and do whatever little brother wanted.

When your dad and I were dating, your dad and Uncle A were roommates for a while after your dad’s roommates had gotten married, and your Uncle’s roommates had graduated college and moved on.  Your uncle got a free apartment for being a police officer, and agreeing to handle calls, sort of like he was the apartment security when he was home.  When your dad was home, he had to answer the calls.

Also, since your uncle got the free apartment, your dad had to pay for the utilities, which didn’t seem quite fair since your dad acted as security when your uncle wasn’t there.  One time when I was over, your uncle pointed out that a certain cat food was on sale, and when your dad said that the cat was your uncle’s cat and not his, your uncle said that since he lived there, he should pay for part of the cat food.

A few times, your uncle went to a movie with your dad and I, and he would always ask your dad, “Aren’t you going to get some popcorn.” So that he could have some without having to buy it.

One time, your dad and I had been out on a Sunday and he was having car trouble.  Daddy had to get up very early to be at UPS (his part time job before he became a driver) and he asked your uncle to borrow some tools to work on his car, and your uncle refused.  They argued, and Daddy was upset and went to his room.  Then your uncle wrote out a note and told me to deliver it to your dad.  I can’t remember word for word what the note said, but it was something about telling your dad he needed to admit that he should have worked on his car earlier instead of waiting until the last minute and to apologize.  It was so crazy and stupid to me, but your dad did what he had to do to borrow the tools, and he got the car running and made it to work .

After your dad and I were married, and after your cousin had been born, your uncle was too cheap to pay for trash pickup at the house, and he would take his trash to the police station and throw it out there.  Your grandparents came down, and I guess Uncle A. had taken some time off work, and hadn’t taken his trash to work.    They all came over to our house, and I will never forget your uncle opening up the trunk of his big old care and pulling out 17 large garbage bags and saying, “Here Phill, I thought you could put this out when you put your trash out.”  I was pretty angry at the gall, but said nothing.  Had your uncle asked us before hand, I don’t think I would have minded at all, but to just bring all that trash over to our house and not even say, “Would you mind…….!”

I had witnessed the way your uncle treated your dad for so long that I never much cared for your uncle.  Your dad always thought he was the better looking brother who always got the girls, etc., but I always thought your dad was such a much more decent person than your uncle.  They were very competitive.  Once, before we were married, I went hiking with your dad, Uncle A., and a friend of your dad’s.  It turned into a race up to Amicolola, which I have to say was one of the worst dates ever.  Of course I tried, but couldn’t keep up with the three of them, and I when I hike or walk I want to enjoy the scenery, look at things, etc.  It was not my idea of fun at all.

The one thing your dad did that was kind of funny, after we were married, was that every time we were around Uncle A., when we hadn’t seen him in a while, your dad would always find a reason to walk around behind your uncle when he was sitting down so that he could check our his hair loss.  As your know, your grandfather was pretty bald, and I figured both the boys would head that way eventually, but your dad had a lot more hair than Uncle A., and I guess that was the one thing he felt superior about.

I’ve heard that your dad and Uncle A. get along better now, but in all the years we were married, there was only one brief time that they got along well, and that was when A.’s first wife threw him out and his mistress had married the father of her child, and was no longer available.  A. was pretty sad and lonely and came over to see us some.  We hung out, went to movies, went bowling and such.   We introduced your uncle to a friend of ours and they became a couple right away, practically living together.  She fell in love with him, and with his little girl.  I much regretted introducing them when later, your Aunt K. dumped her husband and called Uncle A.  Your uncle immediately dropped our friend with no explanation.  She called my crying, with no clue as to why your uncle did not return her calls.  It was horrible, and I was so sorry for even being a part of it.

Except for this brief spell of niceness, your uncle was always rude and condescending to your dad, and I didn’t have much use for him.  I loved your dad and your dad was such a good person, that I hated seeing him treated this way by his own brother.

Shortly before you pulled all your “my mother is abusing me” stuff, your dad and I had talked about getting together with your dad and his family.  We hadn’t seen the girls in several years, and I think we were ready to try and have a relationship with your uncle’s family again.  Your dad and I were talking and your dad still had some anger towards his brother when he told me, “He cheated on every girlfriend he ever had, he cheated on his first wife, and I no doubt he’s probably cheated on K. (second wife) too.”  That kind of surprised me.

I know you know the problems that were going on with your cousins, and to be honest, your dad and I weren’t sure we wanted you around them.  Of course now, it sounds as if all three girls have grown up and gotten themselves together.  Little did I know that you would be the one whose problems made theirs pale in comparison.

To be continued…

Another Emma Believe It Or Not

birdbandingcatbird

Emma Roey, Emma Katherine Roey, Emma Buchheim, Katie Smith, Emma Kate Roey, Sophie Buchheim

 

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.

 

Recently, I was traveling, and while driving along the coast and seeing the signs to Savannah, something popped into my head.  I  believe Emma was in 6th grade when the church youth group went on a try to Jekyll Island, Ga. to learn a little about bird banding. There was a couple at our church, Mr. and Mrs. P. who spent every fall banding birds and recording information. They’d been doing this for years. Emma seemed to enjoy the trip despite her complaining about the other kids. There was the one young lady that Emma never got along with, and Emma talked about how she latched on to one of the boys and spent the whole trip with him. (Perhaps a little jealousy there.)

 

This was also the trip where Emma complained about the new youth leader letting the girls watch the program “Sex and the City” and claimed that she picked up her sleeping bag and moved it to the kitchen. She claimed she told the group that she didn’t think her parents would want her watching that program. Whether or not that’s true, who knows? I think I can easily picture Emma making that story up to make herself sound a little high and mighty.
In 2007, Mrs. P. invited Emma and I to go to Jekyll while they were bird banding, since she knew we homeschooled and had a somewhat flexible schedule. We took her up on her offer and drove down there that September for a few days. Jekyll was beautiful, and learning about the bird banding was very interesting. We weren’t allowed to remove the birds from the nets, but we could hold the birds once they were handed to us. I was thrilled when I was able to recognize the subtle differences in some of the birds because when we first started, they all looked alike! In addition to Emma and myself, there was Mr. and Mrs. P, their grown son, and a friend of theirs who came down just before we left. Over dinner conversation, it was very clear that the politics of the group was liberal leaning, and Emma, being very opinionated, even as an 8th grader, did not like the conversations. As a mostly conservative myself, I agreed with somethings that were said and didn’t agree with some things, but it doesn’t upset me if my opinions differ from those around me. Emma, on the other hand, had no use for people whose perspectives were different from her own.
All in all, bird banding was a great educational experience.
A year or so later, when Emma was doing school on line, some of the ladies at church started a sewing group, and I thought Emma might enjoy that. Often, if I could let Emma do something without me, I would, to try to give her a little space without mommy always being around, so I took her to the group, but didn’t stay.
When I picked Emma up, she seemed to have enjoyed the group, but then started complaining about Mrs. P. and how she put down homeschooling, going on about homeschoolers being unsocialized, etc. Emma claimed that when Mrs. P. made some derogatory comment about homeschooling, Emma piped up and said, “Well, I’ve never known a pregnant homeschooler.”
Then Emma said, that another woman from our church, the mother of Savannah, one of the girls in the youth group, said something like, “Good one, Emma.”
I remember telling Phill about the incident, and it never occurred to us that it might not be true. We were kind of proud of Emma for speaking up, but sometime later, something bothered me about this story.Mrs. P. was a classy, polite, articulate, considerate, educated, kind lady. She’d known Emma for years, and knew Emma was homeschooled. I just cannot believe that she would have been putting down homeschooling in front of Emma, knowing that Emma was homeschooled, even if she did have feelings thoughts about it. She just wasn’t that type of person.
Have I called up Mrs. P. to ask her if this story even happened? No. I just classify this story under another Believe it or Not, and I’m not buying it.
So many times, I saw Emma be very judgmental against someone whose politics were different than Emma’s. That’s all it took for her to decide she didn’t like someone. I certainly hope she outgrows this behavior and can learn that people who think differently than you do can still have a lot to offer.
After we told my sister about Emma’s accusation of “molestation,” she later told me that Emma immediately told her that the priest she accused “molesting” her was a democrat. Doesn’t it seem a little odd that you claim to have been sexually abused by a priest, and one of the first things you tell someone about the situation is that he was a democrat?
I know this story is mall in comparison to some of the other things Emma’s done, but I think some of these small stories give you better insight into Emma’s personality, so I want to share them.
And Emma, I will give you credit for one thing though. You were right about your dad. I always joked about your dad being super smart but I wondered about his common sense sometimes. I guess in some ways, he is as dumb as you always said he was. Later on, I will tell you about your dad’s family and his relationships with them, and you can sort of understand why he is the way he is. (I would prefer not to write about this on the blog, but since we can’t talk in person I guess I will have to. And besides, nothing your dad or his family has in their history can be as bad as being a child abuser and attempted murderer, right? BTW, have you recovered from the residual effects of the DDT?  I hope you are happy and healthy.)

Thank you to my readers! Please feel free to write me at: losingemma@gmail.com