The Police Dog Meme

Posted on September 3, 2018 by losingemma

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, works as a teaching assistant for Southern Methodist University in Dallas, and Emma works leasing swanky apartments in Frisco. 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.

Just a couple of light thoughts today.

Police Dog

Ok, so I kept seeing this meme pop up, and I liked it but did not save it, so when I tried to go back and find it, I couldn’t. Darn! So……….. I just made my own. For someone who’s not too computer savy (and sadly had a husband who kept telling me I didn’t need to know how to do things because he would always be there to help me), I’m pretty pleased with myself for mastering the meme generator! I like this one better than the one I saw earlier.

Anyway, if you know the history of Emma, one of her better lies, er stories, was the one about being searched by a drug dog in high school. Emma claimed that a boy, JB, who lived in our neighborhood and rode the school bus with Emma, had a grudge against Emma’s “friend” C. (later Emma called her an “acquaintance” rather than a friend), so he turned the group of them in, claiming they had drugs on the bus……………… Emma went on to say that she got called out of class to be searched by a drug dog, and told the officer how she volunteered with a rescue………… It was a GREAT story, and Emma put so much detail into it, that it’s a shame it wasn’t true. (But her dad doesn’t think she has a lying problem.) To tell such a great story, I’m wondering did Emma rehearse it, or to good liars just work on the fly?

The other thing I wanted to share with Emma was a gift for Tyler, the Good Architect. I saw these and thought they were so cute for the Leggo enthusiast! (or appropriate for a Bob the Builder like Tyler!) So, Emma, there’s a Christmas idea for you, or you can get Tyler one and tell him it’s from me!

Leggo Mug

Love,

Maze

Parental Unit Days

Posted on May 24, 2018 by losingemma

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 showing and leasing swanky apartments in Frisco. 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.

Parental Unit Days

Goodness, I had wanted to share my thoughts for Mother’s day, but have been so busy, I didn’t get to it, and now it’s almost Father’s Day!

I can now share from the perspective of surviving my 8^th Mother’s Day without my daughter. This was the first time in 8 years that I could actually say, “Happy Mother’s Day” and mean it. I didn’t want to hide from or ignore the day. Of course, I still miss my Emma, and I’m still hoping she’ll grow up, but she is what she is, and I didn’t fall into the pits of despair just because it was Mother’s Day. I wasn’t expecting a card, a call or an e-mail, so Emma didn’t disappoint me, but actually, I had a pretty nice day. I did have to work, but then came home and went to a cook out with some friends, and had some good food and good company on a beautiful, albeit warm, day, and I even got a couple of Mother’s Day cards from my very thoughtful sister and brother-in-law (and my dog) who were thinking of me.

When you’re a mother, everyday is Mother’s Day, but it is nice to have one day to be acknowledged for all you do for your child/children. The cooking, cleaning, diapers, runny noses, vomit, tears, boo boos, sickness, homework, school projects, chauffeuring and then sitting around, bored, while your child gets to do whatever fun activity they are involved in like swimming, kayaking, softball, karate, soccer, art class, choir, youth group, brownies, piano lessons, drama, therapy….. For mom, so much of that stuff is pure boredom and a lot of waiting around, but then when you get to see some of those moments, like when your child catches the fly ball, or breaks a board in karate, or just has a fun, silly time at play group, it is pure joy. To see them grow and learn and accomplish a task or grasp a concept, those are the moments we moms love, just watching our babies thrive in life.

As a child, Emma got to do so many more activities than Phill and I ever got to do as children, but as her mom, I just wanted to open her eyes to new experiences. I wasn’t expecting her to become a great black belt in karate, or a classical pianist, but I wanted Emma to get to try different things, and to be able to appreciate the effort that goes into them. Maybe Emma would never be a black belt, but by taking karate for a while, hopefully if she met someone who was, she would understand how much work went into earning that black belt. If she took a pottery class, maybe she would see a beautiful piece of pottery one day and understand and appreciate what goes into the making, the glazing, the firing of the piece.

Like most kids, I don’t think Emma appreciated how lucky she was that any extracurricular she was interested in, Phill and I would try to work out her being able to do. And, like a lot of kids, Emma never found anything she really loved. She never stuck with anything too long, but that’s ok. I always hoped she would find something she loved and could put some time and energy into, but Emma seemed to get bored with a lot of things, so we’d finish that activity and try something else. Or, if Emma didn’t excel at something right away, she wanted to quit whatever activity it was. (Smart child problems.) She didn’t seem to grasp that you didn’t become the best at something the first time you tried it. For a while, I was a glass bead maker, until Phill threw me out of our home and kept all my supplies. I took a beadmaking class (working on a torch) on a whim because a friend wanted to do it, and I was the absolute worst one in the class. I’m not very coordinated anyway, and I dropped things, and spilled things and really didn’t do great at all, but I loved it and it just made me want to try harder to “get it.” I practiced and took more classes and later began selling my work. I found that through hard work and maybe some natural talent, I was actually pretty good, better than a lot of people who’d been doing torch work longer than I had. I don’t do it anymore, and as I said, Phill has or had all my supplies (I would guess that he probably sold all my stuff.) Just before Emma got Phill to throw me out of our home, Emma had asked me to teach her to work on the torch, so we were planning on, that summer, when she was out of school and had some time, me teaching her my craft. In any event, I hope Emma enjoyed all the things she got to do.

Emma with Johnathan and Derek McCravy, helping with the church camp at Sunrise Baptist Church, Lawrenceville, Ga.

I have a friend, who when I joke about being the world’s worst mom, or being a child abuser, this friend jumps in and says, “You were an awesome mom!” and then she reminds me of how I was saying all the time, “Oh Emma would enjoy that, I should take her to do that….” and how I was always thinking of Emma and if an opportunity came up, I would drop everything for Emma to have the opportunity to do something. Thank goodness for friends!

Before Mother’s day, I kept seeing articles about when Mother’s day is a disappointment. One article was about women wanting to be mothers, struggling with infertility. Another article was about “when you didn’t get the mother you deserved” and I figure that one had to be written by a millennial, maybe even Emma! I started thinking of all the people I know who’ve had some pretty horrible mother’s days. I know people who have lost a child to death, divorce, drugs, and mental illness. I know other parents who are estranged from their children for one reason or another, and some of them don’t even know why they are estranged. I think my own situation is so horrible, but all I have to do is look around, and I can find someone worse off than me.

Those of us that have survived something so horrible as mothers can tell you the one thing we have that no one can take is our memories. My dear, sweet husband wouldn’t let me have any of my things other than clothes and books, and a couple of odds and ends, and what hurt the most was that Phill wouldn’t let me have any of Emma’s baby photos (99% of which were taken by me). I’ve wondered what Phill did will all the little things around the house that were gifts to me from my sisters or from friends. The cross stitch switch plate cover that a friend made me, the little tree on the mantle and the fake asparagus plant in the kitchen that my sister gave me, the glass vase hanging on the wall in our bedroom that a friend gave me one birthday, the dream catcher that hung from the ceiling fan in our bedroom along with some other dangles that Emma had made for me, and the fan pulls in the living room that I traded some glass work that I did for. I had asked Phill for the full bed in the spare room, figuring he and his girlfriend would need our queen bed, and he never gave it to me. Many of you know I was living in a furnished house, so when I bought my home, I brought my mattress and box springs, and I am proud to say after living her a year, with a mattress on the floor, I finally bought a bed. Lol. There are so many things I need, a bed just wasn’t at the top of the list.

Anyway, sometimes I’ll think of things and wonder what Phill did with my ________ (fill in the blank), but having survived Emma, I can honestly say things aren’t that important to me. I don’t even think much about all the wonderful baby photos anymore. I learned a lot more about my husband than I ever wanted to know and found out he wasn’t quite the good man he took pride in believing he was. Emma liked to joke that Phill was weak and pathetic, controlled by us girls (and then controlled just by Emma) and a dumb truck driver…. Phill couldn’t stand up for me or to me, and I had to be the disciplinarian and be the bad guy, but I still always thought we were a team, and I confused my husbands work ethic with his morals. I knew he was a hard worker, and thought he would work just as hard at his family, but I was wrong. Early on, in the middle of all the drama, I was seeing a therapist and said something about being 50 and having to start my life over, and she reminded me that I would be 70 and starting my life over, so there is that. At 50+ I’ve done a lot of things I probably should have learned to do before I got married, so I wouldn’t have been so dependent on my husband, and I’m still learning. It does make me wish Emma had grown up before she got married, because she will probably end up in the same boat, but I’m her mom and there’s not much I can do about that.

I was fortunate enough to be a stay-at-home mom, and when I did work, it was just a little part time job. In a lot of ways, that will hurt me financially in the long run, but I have something that no one can take away, and that’s all the memories of raising Emma. From Emma’s poopy face when she’d turn all red and you’d ask, “Emma are you pooping?” (in her diaper) and she would deny, deny, deny, which we thought was hilarious, to all the conversations about life in general, and how up until a couple of months before Phill had me thrown out of our home, Emma would come in my bedroom every night before she went to bed and want to snuggle and have “girl talk” with me before she went to bed, no matter how bad it got, I was blessed to be a mom. The hours and hours of magical reading time, to playing in the inflatable pool, or blowing bubbles out on the driveway, there are so many moments that are such treasures. Yes, the later years were horrible, and Emma turned into a pretty crummy human being, but she was a wonderful baby, toddler, and child for a while, and I got to be her mom and see it all. Kids are a crap shoot, but even with all the horrible things Emma’s done, if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t know what being a mom was like.

I love you, Emma.

P.S. Is Tyler done with the Flat Iron School yet?

Protecting the Ones We Love

Posted on March 13, 2018 by losingemma

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.

Ok, so I changed the title of this post, but I’m not changing the post, so if you’ve already read it, don’t bother. Initially, I was thinking how it’s a mother’s instinct to protect her child, and so I named the post, “A Mother’s Instinct,” but then I started comparing my situation with Emma to the local story of this murdered woman. I was thinking about how this dying woman did not want to believe her husband shot her on purpose (allegedly). I heard someone talking about she may have said, “It was an accident.” because she wanted to protect her husband, and I got to thinking about how I still wanted to protect Emma, even though she accused me of child abuse, and even though I was just beginning to uncover her lying habit. (At the time she accused me though, I had no idea how much lying Emma was doing. She pretty much lied about everything.)

Well, after a wonderful, relaxing vacation visiting friends in Fla., and then stopping on my way home to Kayak from Amelia Island to Cumberland Island, I got home, back to the grind, had a rather traumatic welcome home surprise at work on my first day back from vacation, and then got hit by a cold. One of those colds that just wears you out, but you keep going, keep working, etc, until you have a day off to crash in the bed all day. Thank goodness I have (knock wood) managed to avoid the flu, so I can’t complain too loudly about being sick, but gosh, darn, I almost made it through the whole sick season without getting sick!

I had the radio on while running around today, and I was listening to a local talk show (Eric Von Haessler—if you haven’t heard of him, I guess you would say he’s a libertarian who talks about current events and he and his crew are very funny.) Eric was talking about a local story that I’d heard about, but really hadn’t paid much attention to– A wealthy, high powered attorney who shot and killed his wife in 2016. Murder or Accident? The trial was starting today.

I was sort of half listening, as I really wasn’t that interested in the Tex McIver case, and there was a legal analyst (Ron Carlson, I think) on, and now I’m going to have to learn how to listen to a Podcast because I want to go back and hear it again, but anyway, they were talking about all the contradictions in the case. Listening to it got me a little curious, so I did some reading about it, and here are some of the things I found out about the death of Diane McIver and her husband Tex:

Tex McIver

Wife much wealthier than he was

owed wife $350,000, hence possible new will, leaving their ranch to her Godson

Offered bribe to make case go away

tried to convince witness to say she wasn’t there

sold off wife’s things shortly after her death

broke bond condition of not possessing any guns when investigators discovered a glock in his sock drawer while executing a search warrant

did not call 911 after wife shot

instead of taking wife to closest hospital, took her to a hospital further away that did not have a trauma center

Prior to his marriage to Diane, was involved in a shooting where he opened fire on three young men in a car

acrimonious divorce from his first wife who accused him of a long-time affair

Diane McIver

while dying, stated to Emory Dr. that it was an “accident”

when Dr. asked wife if she wanted to see husband, she said, “no”

Ok, so that’s for starters, and I have to admit, I’ve gotten more curious, so I’m going to have to do some more reading about the case.

What caught my attention was when the two gentlemen on the radio were discussing why Diane McIver would say her husband shooting her was an “accident.” Was Diane trying to protect her husband and she didn’t want to admit that her husband might have shot her on purpose? Maybe she just didn’t want to believe her husband could do what he’d done.

Like I said, I want to go back and listen to the segment again, but I could really relate to protecting those we love, especially as a mother.

When Emma’s attorney was about to file a law suit, and Emma and I talked about how the attorneys would need to talk to her on-line friend, “Lacey” who Emma claimed was raped and attempted suicide, Emma understood that this would be necessary for her case, to show how “Lacey’s” rape brought up Emma’s repressed memories of being molested by the priest when she was 12. Emma was fine with it and said she understood and would talk to “Lacey” and tell her that the attorneys would need to talk to her.

Of course we know how this story ends, I get the email from the attorney that he is ready to file the suit, and WHAM, all of a sudden my daughter accuses me of physically abusing her to stop the law suit before she is caught in a big fat lie. (This was a brief synopsis for those of you who may be new readers.)

When the legal analyst was talking about how Diane McIver may have been wanting to protect her husband by claiming he shot her by accident (He was in the backseat of the vehicle, how would she know?”) I thought of Emma and how I wanted to protect her.

Shortly before Christmas of 2010, my daughter accused me of abuse and we had the whole DFACS involvement, Emma went to the mental hospital, etc., and after we got her home, I just wanted to get my family back to normal. I’d begun to suspect that Emma really hadn’t been sexually abused, or maybe I’d had some doubts from the beginning, but what parent wants to believe their child made up a lie about being sexually abused?

After Emma accused me of abuse, my mind was made up that the whole thing was a lie, but I didn’t pursue it. We wanted Emma home, we were in family therapy with Suzie McGarvey, (now with North Gwinnett Counseling Associates) and had Emma in therapy, and Phill and I even went without Emma to talk to her therapist. (Big mistake because when Emma found out, she was paranoid about it and thought we were just going to “talk bad” about her, even when I told her we were trying to work on making things better as a family.) With all this going on, I still couldn’t tell anyone that I thought Emma made up the whole, “I was sexually abused by a priest” thing. I didn’t even say anything to Phill, my best friend, husband, and love of close to 30 years. I still wanted to protect her and didn’t want people thinking badly of her, even though I felt it was a lie.

Of course, hindsight is 20-20 and now I feel like Phill and I should have either sat down with Emma or sat down with Emma and a counselor and we should have gotten to the bottom of things. Maybe if we’d pushed Emma to answer some hard questions, we would have gotten to the truth a lot sooner, and my family would have been destroyed by Emma’s power struggle. Even now, I have an tiny unrealistic hope that Emma will grow up and one day tell us why she did what she did, but I guess 99% of me feels like this won’t happen. In 17 years of being Emma’s mom, I saw too much that makes me think she could be a sociopath, a narcissist, and may have some other personality disorders thrown in, so I don’t really expect Emma to change, except maybe to get better at what she does.

So, yes Diane, if you were trying to protect your husband, I completely understand. I tried to protect my daughter from being thought badly of, from her own lies, from herself, even to my own detriment. My first instinct, even with all the horrible things my daughter did, was to protect her.

hurt

Happy 2nd Anniversary Emma and Tyler

Posted on September 19, 2017 by losingemma

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

Happy 2^nd Anniversary to Emma and Tyler!

EmmaTylerWedding

Happy 2^nd anniversary to my lovely daughter Emma Katherine Buchheim and my wonderful son-in-law, Tyler Albert Buchheim. Being the middle of the week, I hope you get to do something fun, either going out to dinner or celebrating on the weekend! I’m sure Emma will have some kind of celebration planned.

As you know Emma, your dad and I kept anniversaries pretty low key. Going to Tybee on our 23^rd while you were at church camp was the biggest thing we did. I wanted to do something on our 25^th, but we didn’t have anywhere for you to go, so that didn’t happen, and I was looking forward to our 30^th, but that wasn’t meant to be.

You will have to ask Daddy about our 2^nd anniversary though. That was probably our most interesting anniversary. Back in 1986, I was working as a receptionist for a veterinarian, and worked with an assistant named Gail. Remember how you always made fun of Sandra Brooks McCravy for how much she called me and poured out her problems to me? Well, Gail was a lot like that, but she didn’t cry near as much as your Aunt Sandi. We were friends, and Daddy and I had her over to dinner and such, but I didn’t think of Gail as a really close friend. I liked her ok, but she was way too needy. She suffered from some mental issues and saw a therapist and a social worker on a regular basis. I don’t remember her being on any medication. Daddy used to joke about her having to pay people to listen to her, but we were very young and didn’t know much about mental illness. Gail had had an unhappy childhood and always seemed kind of depressed. I remember her telling me about her mother confiding in her that her dad was having an affair when she was maybe middle school aged, and she didn’t know how to handle that information. I think she liked being around Daddy and me because we were stable and happy. She was another person who called us “soulmates” and when I joked once about how you never know what will happen, about Daddy and I being together or not in 30 years or something like that, I remember her saying, “Oh, you and Phill will be together forever. You’re soulmates.” I’ve never forgotten that conversation, although I can’t remember what we were initially talking about.

Anyway, back before cell phones, when Daddy was working for UPS and driving one of the package cars, his route was in Sandy Springs, Ga, north of Atlanta. The UPS Center that Daddy worked out of was in Doraville, Ga, and we lived in Doraville at the time. Daddy would call me from somewhere on his route to let me know about when he’d be home so I could plan dinner.

I could work with Gail all day, and she would still call me when I got home from work. She would always ask if Daddy had called because she knew I would not stay on the phone if I hadn’t heard from him, and if he had, she would want to talk to me. I didn’t mind too much because we didn’t really talk much at work except when we occasionally went out to lunch together, but a lot of times I just stayed on the phone because I was too nice and didn’t know how to politely say I had other things to do. This was also before cordless phones, so you couldn’t move around while you talked on the phone either! In this day of talking, texting, and instant communication, I’m sure you have a hard time imagining what it was like for us back then, but we survived.

June 30^th, 1986, Daddy and I were going to go out for our 2^nd anniversary to Steak and Ale for a prime rib dinner. There was one I the Chamblee/Dunwoody area, and I don’t know if it is even still there. We didn’t go out to nice restaurants very often, so this was a treat. I remember I was dressed in a print skirt and matching top of little pastel flowers, and wearing the little opal necklace Daddy had given me for our anniversary. I always loved opals and had wished I was born in October, so they could be my birthstone, but nooooooooooooo, I had to get that ol’ yellow topaz and the alternate stone is the citrine, with is pretty much the same color. (Back then, you didn’t see a lot of the blue topaz like you do now.)

We were getting ready to go when Gail called, and I don’t even remember why she called, just that she was depressed. She must have talked about harming herself and we ended up going over to her apartment, which wasn’t far from where we lived. It’s been so long, I don’t remember all the details, but Daddy might. We ended up taking Gail to Northside Hospital, and then taking her home again. We were going to leave her when she got upset and got a steak knife and took it into the bedroom with her. Then, after more phone calls, we took her too a mental hosptial in Smyrna, Ga, and I think it is now called Ridgeview, but I can’t remember if that’s what it was called back then. It was a lot like Charter Peachford, where you went. Well, with all the driving and waiting at the hospitals, we didn’t get home and to bed until about 4am, and we both had to work the next day. I remember being so sleepy and just fighting to stay awake at work. It was horrible.

After all that, I think Gail owed us a steak dinner, but she was kind of in her own world and it didn’t occur to her that she had ruined our evening. I think she had a hard time seeing past her own problems.

Daddy and I did finally go out for our prime rib dinner to Steak and Ale, but it was on July 4^th. We enjoyed a good meal and then had a romantic night at home. (I guess now that you’re a married lady, it’s ok for you to know that your parents had s-e-x! Big An used to say that every generation thinks they invented sex. I know you can’t imagine your mom and dad or Sherry and Bob loved/love each other like you and Tyler do.)

So, Happy Anniversary Emma and Tyler. I would have sent a card, but I didn’t want to cause Emma any PTSD or anything. I hope your 2^nd anniversary is a lot less eventful than ours was!

Lots of love,

Mom/Maze

Moving Madness and Why I Gave Phill Our Home

Posted on June 3, 2017 by losingemma

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

Moving Madness and Why I Gave Phill Our Home

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

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

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

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

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

So the boxes sit.

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

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

Phillgarden

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

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

Phillsuit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Note for Emma

Posted on September 3, 2016 by losingemma

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.

facepaint Emma 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.)

Happy Mother’s Day, Emma

Posted on May 7, 2016 by losingemma

heart

Recently I came across this letter you wrote when you entered a contest with the FISH 104.7 for a Mother’s Day makeover:

WHY MY MOM DESERVES A MOM’S MAKEOVER

I’m her only daughter, Emma (I’m 11). I think my mom deserves a mom’s makeover because as some say ‘if dads are the head of the family, then moms are the neck, and the neck can turn the head any way it wants’. My mom is DEFINITLY the neck of our family. She gets me to softball, choir, chorus and lots of other activities. She also reminds my dad that he has a dentist appointment in an hour so he needs shower and comb his hair and put on a shirt that doesn’t have holes in it (those are his yard-work shirts that have holes). On top of all this, she still manages to put a meal on the table so we can eat together. Getting the family together for meals may sound easy; however, it’s often anything but, since my dad works for UPS (United Parcel Service). He isn’t the kind of worker who delivers packages to your door, but the kind of worker who takes packages from GA to another state, and he does it at night; so he has a weird schedule.

Since she wants me to get a good education, she gives up her day to homeschool me so that I’ll have a chance to complete my ultimate (earthly) goal; to earn all good grades so I can get the Hope Scholarship, attend Georgia Tech for the first 4 years of college, and attend Yale University in Connecticut so that I can become a children’s pediatrician. It really helps to have my mom support my goals and to know that she’s behind my every step to catch me if I fall and encourage me to get up and start again. My mom is a fire when I’m cold and a couch when I’m tired. She’s an animal-sitter for our neighbors and a friend to anyone who needs one. It’s hard for me to put on paper why my do-good, church-going mom deservers a mom’s makeover, but I’ve tried my best and I think she would be a VERY worthy recipient of your luxurious prize!

Oh, and safe for the whole family? 104.7 The Fish!!!!

Mom and me (and you enclosed a picture of the two of us)

*************************************************************

I know you’ve made some bad decisions, but you’re still my daughter and I still love you. I think of you always and pray for you daily. That’s all I can do for you at this point.

I remember when you turned nine, and I thought that my time with you was half over. At 18, you would probably be going off to college. How that time flew by.

During the difficult times, when you would get so angry with me for being the bad guy, the mean mother who made you pick up your room or do chores, I often looked forward to the day when you were an adult. I thought you would be something amazing. There was no doubt that you were smart, and I knew you could do whatever you wanted. Even thought you talked of becoming a doctor, I knew the odds were not likely. Not too many people have what it takes to put in all the time and effort to become a doctor. It is a lot of hard work. I just looked forward to the day you were an adult so we could be friends, and I wouldn’t have to be that evil mother who micromanaged your life..

When you were growing up, I thought you were the most important job I’d ever had. If I could just raise you to be a decent human being, that was what was important. I have so many happy memories of being your mom from the time you were a flutter in my belly, until you hit those terrible teens. I was always proud of you, maybe too much so.

You were a wonderful baby and spent practically the first two years in my arms or on my hip. I remember so many times, vacuuming with one hand and holding you on my hip with the other. I remember you in your walker, and how happy you are when you discovered how mobile you could be. I remember how much I read to you from the time you were just a few months old. By the time you were able to sit up (at 6 months) I would spread books out on the carpet and you would reach for the one you wanted me to read next.

I remember the time we visited my sister in Ct., and you were a toddler. We were in the kitchen, and I don’t remember what she did, maybe dropped something, and she yelled, “Shit! Shit! Shit!” and you went wandering out of the kitchen mumbling to yourself, “Shit, shit, shit.” and your aunt said, “Phill is going to kill me.”

Sometimes when I’m doing something or going somewhere, I still think, “Oh, Emma would love this.” or I wish I could tell you about something that happened at work. We used to talk about everything. I’ve wondered if your taste has matured. Did you ever learn to like any vegetables besides green beans and corn? Did you ever learn to like any Chinese food besides Sesame Chicken?

You never asked about your little dog who lives with me. He is now an old man, with a lot of white in his face, his paws, and down his back. He’s not the little psycho we adopted way back then, but he is almost socially acceptable now, although it’s been a lot of work. I take him to your grandmother’s assisted living home at least once a week, and all the older people there love him.

I wonder how you feel about having a stepmother. Is that cool or will you be jealous of Kim Chassion like you were of me?

Just know my darling daughter that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, I’m always thinking of you. I hope you and Tyler do something special for his mother this mother’s day. And no, I don’t expect a card, a call, or even a text. After all, what was I on your facebook? Your “pending” mother before you removed me.

I was recently joking with a friend (someone who knew you for many years) and said, “Back when I was a mother…..” and she reminded me that I will always be your mother. I know. I will. With all that you’ve done, you can’t take away what was.

I have a lot more writing to do, and I think next I will tell you about your dad’s family, and why your dad is the way he is. If you still plan on being a counselor or a therapist, it might help to understand your own family dynamics, and know how you got away with what you did because your dad could not confront you.

Happy Mother’s Day, Emma. At times I’ve prayed that you don’t have children, and other times I’ve hoped you’d have six just like you! But what it is your dad said, that you were afraid you’d be a mother like me?

moon

Losing Emma

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