Tag Archives: Phillip Roey

Emma’s Moral COMPASS

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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 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.

Emma’s Moral COMPASS  (Ok, so the title is a little play on words there.)

I recently, I had one of those Facebook “You Memories” come up from 2010, and here it is:

Emma compas

During this time, we were trying to figure out what we were doing with Emma and her education. She’d become a most uncooperative homeschooler. She hated Jackson County Comprehensive High School which she had started in 9th grade and then halfway through the year was vomiting and missing so much school that she had to finish 9th grade on line and then did 10th grade on line, and that seemed to make her even more isolated. It was during 10th grade that Emma made up the story about being molested by the priest. I think she was mostly on line chatting rather than doing school work, but in any event, on line school did not seem the right choice for a young lady who was already seemed to spend too much time alone. Emma was interested in going to college at Pensacola Christian College. She liked the idea of the strictness of it and how it promoted modesty and purity. Girls were not permitted to wear slacks, but had to wear dresses and stockings, and I think there was a rule about how boys and girls couldn’t walk together unless they were in a group. During this time, Emma was very paranoid about her “molester” seeking revenge or retribution on her, so she really liked the idea of a closed campus and felt she would be safe there. PCC sounded great on some levels, but I was concerned because it wasn’t an accredited school, so I was trying to talk to people and read about how this could affect Emma should we choose to send her there. I had a friend who’s daughter graduated there as a teacher, but could only teach in private schools, not public, and I didn’t like the idea of Emma being limited in her career should she go there. We also had some neighbors whose daughter went to PCC and found it too strict and confining.

I don’t remember how we started looking into Gwinnett Tech, but I think someone had suggested it. I did some research, and looked at their programs. At the time, Emma was interested in nursing, and she could have gone there and gotten a 2 year degree, although it probably would have taken 3 years, taken state boards, and earned her RN. Emma and I had a lot of conversations about this, and I remember us talking about travel nursing. I had told her it would be a way to see the country and being young and single, if that was what she thought she wanted, it would be a good time in her life to do that. She could use her dad and I as her home base and take assignments wherever she wanted to go. For a while, Emma was pretty interested in that idea. We decided, or I guess I decided, to let Emma take the COMPASS, the college placement test.

Of course, if you know the impulsive nature of teenagers, Emma was jumping on this idea of starting college at 16 and planning her future, while I was telling her to slow down and it was something we were looking into, but nothing was definite. Emma didn’t seem to hear me at all and was full steam ahead with her plans for college. I, on the other hand, was researching the pros and cons of starting college without ever obtaining a high school diploma. Should Emma get a GED? How do we make that jump from high school to college without a diploma. Would it hurt her in the future to not have graduated high school?

Another thing I was concerned about was throwing a 16 year old in with a bunch of 18 and older college students. This was all during the time that we believed Emma had been molested, before I started researching and discovering what a liar my daughter was about pretty much everything and everybody. We were still dealing with the make believe trauma of Emma’s supposed molestation, and I felt we needed to get through that before we threw her into the college setting.

Emma, who liked to say, “I have Google in my head.” was definitely a smart child, and I was so proud of her smarts. I knew, she could be whatever she wanted to be in life with that little brain of hers, but did she have the maturity needed for college? I’d known her dad when he was in college and he refused to put effort into classes that he thought were a waste of time, and thus he never finished college. What if Emma was the same way? How would Emma handle the drinking and partying crowd in college? I’d been hoping to see signs of maturity in Emma. I was hoping that she would show us that she could be responsible in other areas so that we could feel like she was responsible enough to get her driver’s license (although Phill still wanted her to wait until she was 18 to do that) and maybe get a part time job. Funny how Emma always made me out to be the mean (strict) mommy, but I was the one who wanted to see her get her driver’s license. I kept hoping she would show us she was mature enough to take on that privilege.

I talked to other home school moms, mother’s of college kids, teachers, and did a lot of reading on line. As usual, Phill said whatever I decided was fine. I talked to him about it, and tried to get his opinion, but he stayed out of it and was more interested in his RC groups and chatting on the computer and flying toy air planes. Finally, I just couldn’t seen Emma starting college at 16. It didn’t feel like the right decision. I felt like it would probably be better to get Emma back in public school and let her do joint or dual enrollment and take college classes while she finished high school. Emma was smart, but there’s a lot more to college than just smarts, and the two things that nagged at me were that fact that Emma would have no high school diploma, and I just wasn’t sure Emma was mature enough to start college full force.

Another reason I wanted Emma in high school was to give her more time around her peers before she started college. Yes, Emma was that Unsocialized homeschooler. Emma had had a pretty sheltered life, which can be good in some ways, and not so good in others. Homeschoolers typically are fairly good kids because mom and dad keep a pretty close eye on them and are usually involved in their kids lives. I worked for the arts program where Emma attended classes, and they kids were all pretty well behaved because if they weren’t, the program would ask them to leave. Public schools don’t have that option, and we’ve all heard the horrible stories of bullying, ostracizing, harassment and such that go on in public schools. As a mom who worked at the program, I was proud of the kids there. I saw a lot more tolerance and acceptance, and I thought it was because the kids were more individuals than the kids at public schools were. The kid who studied martial arts didn’t put down the kid who studied art. There were so many kids who were into so many different things.

The sheltered part of Emma’s upbringing that may have also been a negative was the fact that Emma wasn’t exposed to enough differences as far as race and religion. Phill and I were pretty much homebodies, and didn’t go out a lot, so Emma’s life consisted of her family, her homeschool groups, our church, and her various activities. In our homeschool groups, there were very few families of color, and the same for our church, although there were a few there as well. As a teen, Emma had all the answers and became rather prejudice and bigoted and Phill joked privately that Emma was “Right of right” and called her a mini-racist or a little racist (although he only said this to me, and not to Emma). I chalked it up to Emma’s limited worldliness, and figured she would outgrow her views. Emma had also decided that being gay was a choice and was wrong, and Emma was very judgmental on anyone who didn’t live up to her standards. Since Phill and I were pretty easy going about social issues, we talked openly with Emma about whatever she wanted to discuss, and we didn’t know where her strict black and white standards came from because we’d always been more “live and let live” kind of people. There was no grey with Emma. She had her opinions and beliefs and if we didn’t agree with her, we were wrong. You know how teenagers think mom and dad are stupid and they have all the answers? And then they grow up and realize they know a lot less than they thought they did and mom and dad actually had some wisdom (and life experience) and were a lot smarter than they thought. Well, that was what I was hoping to see in Emma one day. Still not there.

For the half year Emma attended public school she complained about the drugs, loose morals, all the pregnant girls, and the blacks and the Mexicans. According to Emma, the black kids got away with anything because the teachers were too afraid of being accused of racism to stand up to them, and every Mexican that Emma knew was poor and came from a family of 10 -14 kids. Emma complained about a Mexican kid that rode her school bus and lived in downtown Hoschton, in a dilapidated home with taped up windows. I asked her where the house was, and even drove around looking, but funny thing, I never found it.

When Emma complained about black kids at school, I tried to talk to her about cultural differences. Yes, inner city kids might be very different from Emma, but if she looked at the families at our church who were not white, they were just like us, living in middle class neighborhoods, going to school, playing sports, etc. If you remember from an earlier post, Emma claimed a black boy in her drama class had accused her of being a racist and of not liking black people. I doubt there was any truth to that story that this boy, out of the blue, accused Emma of not liking black people, and I’m sure it came out of Emma’s imagination, but Emma claimed to have told the boy that she preferred to judge people on the content of their character and not the color of their skin and then said that the boy didn’t even get that she was quoting Dr. Martin Luther King. (And as I said, I doubt there’s any truth to this story whatsoever, but it seems like the young man’s last name was Washington, so maybe we should look him up and see if he remembers.)

Emma didn’t like any of the girls on the drama crew because they were all lesbians, according to Emma.

While staying at a friend’s home who lived in a Mexican neighborhood, Emma claimed the Mexicans were shooting guns, in order to make it sound scary and to fulfill her role as victim, rather than tell the truth and admit they were shooting off fireworks on the holiday like we’d seen on so many other holidays when we’d been over at our friend’s house. What’s a teenager without a little drama?

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Emma  in the play Metamorphosis at Jackson County Comprehensive High School.  DRAMA!

Emma and I attended a ladies’ bible study, and there were a couple of women who had daughters or their son’s girlfriends who got pregnant. I know in two cases that I remember, the young women didn’t attend the group, but we heard all bout what was going on from the grandmothers-to be. Then, there was the daughter of one of the women, a few years older than Emma, who started coming to our group, and was pregnant. Emma was very judgmental, and it didn’t help that the young lady’s baby daddy was Mexican and I think was married, but in any event already had two or three other children. When our group leader mentioned we could have a shower for this young lady, everyone jumped on the idea to celebrate this little baby, that is, everyone except Emma. Later, when Emma and I were alone, she complained about how we were rewarding this young lady for doing something wrong. I tried to talk to Emma about how this young lady was in for a difficult life as a single mom, and she needed our love and support. I told her how fortunate this mom-to-be was to have two loving parents who were there to help take care of her baby, and since Emma was so staunchly ProLife, we needed to support this girl who could have taken the easy way out and chosen to have an abortion. In Emma’s mind, this young woman did not live up to her high standards. Emma kind of missed the part in church about how as Christians, we are all sinners. Emma’s own sins weren’t near as bad as someone who had sex before marriage and had a mixed race baby. Sadly, I don’t think “humble” is in Emma’s vocabulary. I remember when all the craziness started, and an adult friend who knew Emma some, but not well, told me she always felt that Emma considered herself superior to everyone else. Well, as a mom, of course, it breaks your heart to have someone think that about your child, but believe it or not, I tried to teach Emma to be kind to other people.

I would like to say that Emma changed after that beautiful baby boy was born, and his mother and grandmother brought him to our bible study. Emma usually liked little kids, but she had no interest in him, which was fine because the rest of us wanted to hold him and pass him around. Once you earned a place on Emma’s naughty list, I don’t think it’s easy to get off it.

So, you can see from the above why I thought maybe Emma had been a little too sheltered. I had hoped going to public school and maybe attending college at the same time might be good for Emma. Having grown up in a military family, I had a hard time understanding Emma’s prejudice and bigotry. When my family was overseas, we were just glad to meet kids who spoke English. We didn’t care what color they were!

Did I think Emma was ready for college? Academically, I think she might have been fine, but I thought Emma needed to grow up a little more before she started college. I just didn’t think she was mature enough. Well, you can imagine how this situation went over—————like a ton of bricks. Once again, I was the evil mommy who hated her, didn’t want her to be happy. The only reason she wasn’t starting college at 16 was because her mommy was MEAN! Story of my life. Emma had no idea how agonizing this decision was for me and how much time I put in to making it. Had Emma done things like her chores without having to be told over and over again, or picking up her room without being told, had she been a little more responsible, I might have felt differently.

I have often wondered if Emma’s views on social issues (blacks, gays, lesbians, Mexicans…..) have changed. Did going to college (all 4 of them), living in Ohio with in-laws who are political opposites to Emma and living in California, and Texas change Emma’s feelings about people that are different from her? Hopefully, she had some exposure to other cultures and her world got a little bigger She was a know it all teen, but I’m hoping at 24 ½ years now, and with a little more life experience, that she’s realizing people are people and cute babies are cute babies, and we don’t care what color they are or if their mom’s were married when they had them.

Parental Unit Days

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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 8th 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.

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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?

The Car, the Card, and the Kitten

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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.

 

Part One, The Card (So, I went out of order.  Sue me.)

(There’s some alliteration for you, Emma. Remember learning that when we homeschooled?”)

Ok, so this post isn’t really about Emma, it’s just about life. Since a lot of you are estranged parents, divorced, struggling, and so on, you will get this. It’s just the daily things. The adventures in singledom. I once had a husband who took care of a lot of things and didn’t want me to handle the banking, the bills, the investments, the retirement, etc., and to be honest, I didn’t like dealing with car stuff or workmen on my own. I preferred Phill to be home if someone were coming to the house.

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Emma and Phill at SEFF.  Southeast Electric Flight Festival

The cars were always in Phill’s name, and he always took care of the registration during his birthday month (March 21, 1958—my husband just turned 60!), except for a couple of times when he didn’t. One time, I was driving Emma to private school—-about 24 miles one way—the price we pay for trying to do what’s best for our children (sigh), and I got pulled over and got a ticket because Phill had forgotten to renew the registration. I was embarrassed and thought it had to be a mistake, but it wasn’t. Phill just forgot. Later, I asked him how much the ticket was, and he said, “You don’t want to know.” and I never did ask again. I looked it up these days, and it’s about $125-135. I don’t know why Phill said I didn’t want to know. I had assumed it was a lot more than that. Emma, I think, was in kindergarten. She was still in a childseat, and I remember the officer handing me the ticket and telling me that he appreciated that I had my child buckled in safely. I guess it’s always good to give someone a compliment when you’re about to ruin their day.

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Later on, Emma had made her big announcement of being sexually molested by the priest on Phill’s birthday, March 21, 2010, Phill was so distracted by everything that was going on, dealing with the church, the police, and poor Emma who was traumatized by her “repressed memories,” Phill forgot again and I got stopped again. I was driving down Hwy 124, near Mill Creek High School, when the police pulled over everyone. There were a bunch of police cars there. Spike, my lab/mix was in the back seat, hanging his head out the window, and I think the only reason I didn’t get a ticket was because Spike was a big, friendly goof and the police officer seemed to like him. For whatever reason, he let me go without a ticket that time.

Fast forward to April of 2018. I am having some car trouble, and my car is stuck in 2nd Gear (which will be Part 2 of the story, The Car.) so I can’t drive it on the highway, and I’m driving back roads to work and being jerked around by the car dealer on when my car parts will be in. This was actually sort of a blessing in disguise because it is spring, flowers and trees are blooming, and I live in a rural area with a lot of horse farms. It was such a pretty drive, that I didn’t miss going down the highway, even though it took a little longer,  With the car problems, even on back roads, I was usually going about 30mph, and I know people were pulling up behind me wondering what the heck was wrong with this old lady who’s driving so slow. I wanted to dye my hair blue. I thought about putting a sign on the car that said, “Stuck in 2nd Gear” or “Go Around” and then I thought both “2nd Gear” and “Go Around” would make good names for a rock band.

On this little country road, I take for most of the 13 mile trip to my job, there is 3-way stop. One morning, I was going in to work late, about 1030am, when I noticed the police conducting a traffic stop at the 3-way stop. I thought this a little odd at this time of day because there wasn’t much traffic on this little road. It just didn’t seem like a busy enough road to have a traffic stop on, but what do I know?

As I pull up and stop on this beautiful spring morning, I roll down the window, and a young officer comes up and tells me they are just checking licenses and insurance. “Oh, ok. Sure.” I pull out my license and hand it to him. The officer takes my license and walks behind my car like he’s looking at the plate, with my license. I really wondered what he was doing, but wasn’t going to ask. He comes back and hands me my license and asks for my insurance card. Figuring that that was what he was going to ask, I had already opened my glove box and pulled out a stack of papers.

As I said, Phill always took care of the car stuff, so since Phil had me thrown out of our Buck Trail, Hoschton home in April of 2011, I had always just stuck whatever car stuff there was in the glove box. Every-time I got a new insurance card, I put it in the glove box, and the same with my registration, the owners’s manual, or anything else that had to do with the car.

I pull out a wad of paper and grab one on top and hand it to the officer. “Here’s my insurance card.”

“Ma’am, this card is from 2015.” (I love southern officers. They are so polite.)

“Oops. Ok, wait a minute.”

I flip through the paper and see on that has the correct year on it and hand it to him. “Here it is.”

“Ma’am, this is your registration.”

He hands it back to me, and I look at it. Yep, he’s right. I start flipping through all these papers. “I know it’s here. I remember putting it in the car. Apparently I don’t throw anything away.”

The officer says, “That might be a good thing.”

(Pause……………………………………………………)

“Ma’am, I’m just going to take your word for it.”

I was dressed professionally and wearing my name badge, so it’s not like I looked like some bum, but I really wanted to find that card.

“No, wait a minute. I know it’s here. Here’s 2016. Here’s 2017. Wait. I’m getting closer.”

“Ma’am it’s ok. You can go.”

“But I know it’s here.”

“Really ma’am, you can go. Just make sure you have it in the car when you get home tonight.”

I always thought the police could check your insurance with either your license plate or your driver’s license, but I don’t know and thought it was probably best not to ask, so I drove on it to work, and when I got there, I flipped though all those papers and found it! Sure enough, I did have it!  I almost wanted to turn around and drive back to show it to him.

To be continued……………..Part Two will be, The Car—- and dealing with car dealers, or being a woman in a man’s world, or……… In the end, there was a great service manager who knew I’d been treated poorly and he took over and made things right, but boy was it two weeks worth of aggravation!

Stepping Back

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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.

Stepping Back

So, I was thinking about how, as parents, we have to let go, and let our children fly on their own. Ok, well, Emma’s leaving the nest wasn’t quite how I pictured. I assumed she would grow up and fly the coop, not boot out her mother and take over the nest, but hey, I always knew she was a strong-willed child…. (Emma should have been featured in Dr. Dobson’s The Strong Willed Child! And, yes, I read it.) and I was thinking about writing a Blog post entitled “Letting Go” but then I smiled and what came to mind was more having to do with stepping back, and in Emma’s case, it’s more about stepping back before Emma pushes you in front of the oncoming train.

In the past few weeks, I’ve heard from several people who’ve discovered the blog, and wanted to comment or ask me questions. I want to thank you all for your love and support. I also hope, for those of you going through your own difficulties, that you find comfort in knowing you are not alone.

I also ran into a friend, more of acquaintance, and heard some very disturbing news about her daughter, a young teen, who is probably mentally ill, under care, but not yet diagnosed. From the signs and symptoms my friend was telling me, it sounded pretty scary, with many symptoms that reminded me of Emma, but some were worse, and I feel like my friend is just at the beginning of her nightmare with this child. Having been down that road with my own daughter, I feel like could easily predict the future for this family, and it breaks my heart knowing what is to come for them.

A few years ago, I was at work, when a friend’s daughter came into the office. This young lady, who I think was right about to graduate from high school at the time, worked at a coffee shop, and stopped by with her mom’s favorite hot chocolate. We chatted, and this big high school girl sat in in mom’s lap for a few minutes, with her arms around her mom’s neck. I couldn’t help being a little jealous and wishing I had that daughter that would stop by for a hug or lunch or whatever, but it was not to be, and I’m really ok with that now. With all my flaws, I always tried to do what was best for Emma, but kids are a crap shoot. You just don’t know how they will turn out. (But whatever happens, it’s your fault! 😉 Emma went to college and has a good job, so apparently we did some things right, but I’m really not sure what type of person she is. Is my sweet girl somewhere deep inside there? Is Emma going to spend her whole life hiding from her mom, pretending to be this poor abused child, because her mom was the one who came closest to the truth about Emma?

There have been times when my coworkers were texting their kids, that I wish I had that daughter I could text and ask how her day was, what she was up to, etc., but I’m sure Emma would try to get a restraining order, so I’m not going to do that, and I’m really ok with it now. Or, I guess I am ok as I will ever be considering everything I lost. I accept my life as it is now. Recently, a friend was in the hospital and now she has several months of recovery to look forward to. As a friend, I’m hoping to be of help in the next few months while she’s going through this, going over on my days off to help out, drive her to appointments, etc., but it’s things like that that remind you how much worse things could be. No matter how bad things are, you can always look around and find someone who has it worse.

I guess about 9 out of 10 people I hear from are supportive, but every once in a while I get one of those emails, “if you want a relationship with your daughter, you shouldn’t write about her publicly…” and that gets me thinking, well, for one thing, I have given Emma the opportunity to discuss this between Emma, her dad, and myself, but also I wonder, would I want a relationship with Emma?  Right now, I consider myself lucky that Emma’s favorite show wasn’t “Dateline” or I might not be here to write! (Someone pointed that out to me a while back, and I thought it was quite humorous.)

EmmaSteppingBack

Emma Roey Buchheim

If Emma weren’t my daughter, would I want a relationship with her? Ummmmmm, I can’t imagine I would. Well, superficially, Emma is lovely and charming and can be absolutely delightful, but as her mother, I knew her best, and even I didn’t believe how bad her dark side was. I thought she was the typical obnoxious, know-it-all teenager, but I kept telling myself she would outgrow that behavior and if we could just keep her on a good path, if she would get her education, she would be fine.  She just had some growing up to do.

I remember years ago, before Emma was born, reading an article about an actress who was talking about teenagers. If I remember right, I think it was Jill Eikenberry, from LA Law, which Phill and I didn’t miss for a while there. (Yes, it was that long ago!) She said, humorously, something about how when your kids are teens, aliens come and take them away and replace them with these monsters…..

Knowing what I know about her now, would I want Emma in my life? I don’t think I can answer that. I love my daughter, but my daughter falsely accused a priest of sexually abusing her. Emma had no problem ruining this man’s reputation, and we all know that if a man is accused of child sexual abuse, it doesn’t matter what he’s done or does for the rest of his life, the one thing people remember is that he was accused. It’s horrifying to me that Emma would have no remorse for nearly ruining someone’s life—first the priest, and then her mom, and then once I started looking into things, I discovered Emma’s whole life was pretty much a lie. She lied about almost everyone. (A few thoughts on that coming in another post.)

Would I want someone like that in my life? If she weren’t my daughter, the answer would be a definite “NO!” but she’s still my child. I will always love that precious baby that I carried, and that little girl who was such a mommy’s girl for 17 years, the little girl I had to coax into being nice to her dad so many times, but I think I’m a lot safer loving her from a distance.

stay in your heart

Protecting the Ones We Love

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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

You Look Bad, I look Good

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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.

Seff2015a

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!

Emma and the Roy Moore Effect

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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.  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.

Capture

My daughter, Emma Katherine Buchheim, conservative Christian, who falsely accused a priest of sexually molesting her.

Emma and the Roy Moore Effect

I have to admit, up until the latest accusation, I didn’t even know who Judge Roy Moore was. I am busy working, keeping up with my bills, paying taxes, and volunteering in what little free time I do have. I try to keep up with the news some, but that means mostly listening to the radio in the car, and a few minutes on the computer here and there reading the news. I have a television with an outside antenna, and on a good day, I get 7 channels, but if it’s raining or windy, I usually get three. Only two of them are the “big” networks (CBS and ABC) and the rest are junk. I am not that well informed. I’m hoping later to get a better antenna and get a few more stations, or at least get the stations I do get a little more reliably.

Lately, there’s been a lot of news about people, mostly women, accusing men of sexual abuse. Usually these men are in positions of power or positions of authority. There’s Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, Kevin Spacey, Louie, CK… Some of these men have admitted to what they did, and some haven’t.

And then there’s Facebook, and all the “#Me too” posts. I had to wonder if Emma rushed to post her “Me too” to show how brave she is, or to feel included, or whatever her point would be. I don’t even know what name Emma uses on Facebook now or if she is even on there anymore. She changed her name a few times from Emma Roey, I think to Emma Kate Roey, to Sophie Buchheim (or was that Pinterest?) to Katie Smith… I’ve really lost track of all the names Emma has gone by, but like I always told Emma, if you have to hide, it probably means you are doing something you ought not be doing.

All this got me thinking about Emma and her accusation against the priest she accused of sexual molestation. What was going on in that 16 year old brain of hers? I’m hoping one day Emma will enlighten us, but I also accept that I may never know exactly what is going on with Emma. I can only speculate and make my guesses with what I knew as Emma’s mom for 17 years.

I know there was something going on with Emma a couple of months before the big accusation. She went for a few months of accusing her dad of calling her names like “bitch” and “slut” everyday, and complained about the way he touched her. She didn’t out and out say that Phill molested her, but complained about him putting his hand on her thigh, etc. She told me that she had told her friends Kayla Benifield Weaver and “Lacey” about how her dad called her bad names on a daily basis. She said she did not like her dad and told him she didn’t love him. Poor Phill, this broke his heart.

When it came to me, I stopped Emma in her tracks. I told her to knock it off because she knew what she was saying was not true. There may have been a time or two Phill said Emma was “acting like a bitch,” but he never called her those names directly. I always shut her down and refused to listen to her talking badly about her dad. Emma liked to play the “Daddy is an idiot” game, and I didn’t mind a little joking around, acting like Phill just didn’t get us girls at times, but when Emma got mean about her dad, making fun of him for not finishing college and for being a dumb truck driver, etc., I would shut her down and tell her not to talk that way. I would remind her of our nice home and all the nice things she had and all the activities she got to partake in because of her dad being a dumb truck driver. I refused to listen to Emma when she got ugly about her dad. A little joking around was fine, but she could be downright mean, and I would cut her off when she crossed that line.

Emma loved to play the “girls against the dumb boy” game, and act like she was mommy’s girl, and dumb ol’ Daddy needed to keep out. This didn’t worry me. I thought it was kind of normal, albeit childish behavior, and then there was one day, at age 17, when Emma was sick with a virus and while sitting on the toilet with diarrhea, she vomited all over herself at the same time. The poor girl was sick at both ends didn’t make it to the bathroom in time and called out for help! I was busy in another part of the house, and didn’t hear her call out, but Phill, the dutiful dad went in to help clean up the diarrhea and the vomit of his nearly 17 year old daughter. I came downstairs and Phill told me that poor Emma was sick and had bodily fluids coming out of both ends. Her clothes were soiled and she was nasty between all the bodily fluids, but, good dad that he was, he’d gone in there to help get her cleaned up. That’s what a good dad does, this poor man that Emma accused of calling her “bitch” and “slut” and saying horrible things about her, this poor man who Emma loved to say she didn’t love, got down and dirty taking care of his daughter because she wouldn’t do it herself. Emma was so grossed out by the vomit and diarrhea, that she didn’t want to touch anything!

So………………..my theory is that Emma was thinking about accusing her dad of abuse. I’m not sure what was going through her head, but she was trying to create a divide between her dad and her mom. Unfortunately for me, I refused to listen to Emma talk bad about her dad, so she had to create a new plan.

I was wondering how Emma chose the priest to accuse of molestation. She had already accused a fellow student, Johnny Boddie, of trying to kiss her. Emma had told me this crazy story about Johnny and how he (in 11th grade) was engaged….. The story was so strange, and didn’t make sense, and when I questioned Emma, she just changed the story, so I let it go, just assuming Emma didn’t get her facts straight. Whenever I questioned Emma about some of her stories, she just kept talking, I guess trying to talk her way out of it or to distract me by going on to another topic.

How did Emma decide to choose the priest of molestation? This man had been the interim priest at our church for about a year when Emma was about 12 years old. I remember, when Emma did a reading, during the service, and after she sat down, the priest complimented her on a job well done in front of the whole church, and then began his sermon. (Emma had a great voice and projects well.)

At the time that Emma made up the story about being molested, the priest that she accused was running for public office. And, he was running as, HORRORS, a democrat! Is that why Emma choose the priest? I have no idea what was going through her little brain, but I have to wonder. Emma needed attention, so she made up being sexually molested. Then, she needed to come up with a bad guy to play opposite of her role of being a victim, At first, she was turning on her daddy, but her mom wouldn’t allow that, so she needed a new victim, so who did she turn to (or on) but a former priest at our church who was now entering the world of politics.

When Emma spoke to my sister, after I’d told my sister about Emma’s claim of sexual abuse, the first thing she said to my sister was that the priest was (shudder) a Democrat. Now, we all know that Emma is a staunch conservative, or maybe even Alt-right. Phill liked to say, “Emma’s even far right of right.” I have to wonder, if you’d been sexually molested, would your first thought be about the violator’s political persuasion? Is that what is important to you? Phill labeled himself a Libertarian and liked to say he was fiscally conservative and socially liberal. I couldn’t agree totally with any party, but considered myself fairly conservative. We tried to teach Emma to think for herself and not blindly follow any party, but Emma wanted to be a conservative Republican. She loved making fun of liberals including one of my sisters and her husband, and she could be kind of mean, but I chalked this up to that teenage know-it-all attitude. Emma was right and all liberals were stupid.

Once, when a friend called and I wasn’t home, Emma had a nice chat with her “Aunt M.” (Emma called close friends of the family “aunt.”) This friend happens to be a democrat, but was still pretty close to Emma and was always good to her on her birthday and Christmas. Well, when Emma relayed the conversation to me, she told me the craziest story about how Aunt M told her that the Nazis were going to come back and she needed to keep some hair dye on hand so she could adapt to that Aryan look. It might save her life! Wait? What? This was another story that was so crazy, I questioned Emma, but she swore it was true. It just didn’t make any sense, and it did not sound like my friend, so I dropped it, and as far as I know, Emma didn’t go blonde.

In reading about the Judge Roy Moore accusation, I had to wonder about the timing. I know, that a lot of women have kept their own stories about abuse to themselves until they saw others coming forward, and then they got the courage to come forward themselves. From what I read, the (or one of the) woman who accused Judge Moore, had worked for Hillary Clinton’s campaign. Why did she wait until right before the election to accuse Judge Moore? Why, right now? Why not earlier? And why did Emma accuse the priest when she did? Did she discover that he was running for office, so that was why she chose to accuse him? I don’t know a think about the accusations against Judge Moore because I haven’t heard much of the news in the past few days. I do believe in the order of law, and it may take time, but if the stories are true, it will come out. I sort of think there’s a double standard with the media. The same media who mocked Gennifer Flowers and Paula Jones who accused Bill Clinton of sexual abuse, now whole heartily believes the accusers. That being said, I also remember when John Kerry was running for president and there was supposedly an “intern story” that would come out that never did. Also, when our home-state favorite, Herman Cain, ran for president, there were a couple of women who accused him of sexual misconduct, but those stories never went any further either.

Up until I lived through Emma’s false accusations, I was probably quick to believe the accuser in sexual abuse stories too. After all, who would make it up? Now, I need to hear a lot more facts before I pick a side. I withhold my judgment until I hear the facts, not that my judgment matters to anyone. And let me tell you, it was painful to side with the accusers of one of my childhood heroes, Bill Cosby. I was one of those kids in the sixties, lying on the floor around the stereo, listening to our Dad’s Bill Cosby albums. Early in our marriage, Phill and I never missed an episode of The Cosby Show until the last couple of years, when we kind of lost interest. Who didn’t love “everybody’s dad?”

After Emma’s accusation, she got what she wanted, temporarily. The priest that Emma accused dropped out of the race, but after the police investigated, and couldn’t find any reason to charge him, the priest got back into the election. From what I understand, he didn’t have much of a chance anyway, as he was a democrat running in a highly conservative district, so although what Emma did was an absolutely horrible thing to do to another human being, it probably did not have much of an effect on the outcome of the election.

When I told my good friend, Sandra Brooks McCravy about Emma’s claim of sexual abuse, she wanted me to go to one of the priest/politician’s political speeches and to stand up and ask him about sexually abusing my daughter. I wasn’t brave enough to do something like that, but now I wish I had. I’ll be if I told Emma I was going to do that, she would have found a reason to stop me.

Emma was always interested in politics, and even toyed with the idea of going into politics one day. After her brief stay at Charter Peachford Behavioral Health, Emma came home and said that she guessed she couldn’t go into politics now that she’d had a stay at the mental hospital in her record. (I don’t know Emma, quite a few politicians have been to rehab, and with the number of politicians who lie, that might have been the career for you!) Was blaming the priest for her made-up “molestation” Emma’s first foray into politics? Was the whole reason she accused the priest because of his politics? I hope one day Emma will explain to us the thinking behind her actions.

Unfortunately, I think there will always be women who will be sexually harassed by some man somewhere. Almost every woman I know has faced this type of harassment at least once in her life. With all the mental illness out there, there will always be men who see nothing wrong with their actions, or men who abuse their authority. I’m just sorry that there will always be women out there who will lie about such as serious issue and hurt the cause for the real victims, and I’m sorry that my daughter is one of them.

The Good Architect

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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).  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

 

The Good Architect

So, Emma, this is for you, as I know Tyler doesn’t read the blog. I was looking at Tyler’s blog on line, tyler-buchheim.com but just skimmed it. I’ll go back and read it later. You know I’m not very high tech, so I’m sure I’m not going to get most of it. In fact, a friend just gave me a blue tooth because this computer Daddy got me when he threw me out of our home is not very loud, and I bought some ear buds, but I don’t like being tied to the computer. Well, I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that I can’t figure out how to use the darn things. I did some updates and such and still no luck, but I did manage to get it working with my phone, and I just watched a couple of episodes of The Good Doctor on my phone over the past two days, after a client at work was telling me about the program. (More on that later.)

From what I read, Tyler’s dreams of becoming an architect changed to dreams of becoming a software developer. I’m sure the two areas can have a lot of overlap, and maybe Tyler will be developing software for architects or something. You all are young, so I think that’s great.  You all should try a lot of things before you get tied down with a mortgage and children.   As you know after selling insurance, you spend a lot of time at work, so hopefully you find something you like doing.

I was thinking how Tyler must be Daddy’s dream son-in-law. Another geek in the family! (I mean that as a compliment.) Someone Daddy can talk all technical with, and Tyler probably understands all the geek-speak! Did you know at one time, Daddy wanted to be a computer programmer? I know you saw that game Daddy wrote for Atari magazine. It was called Cosmic Defender, and it wouldn’t be impressive now, but back then, that Daddy could create that and bring it to life was a pretty big deal.

In 1988, your daddy turned 30 years old. For his 30th birthday he wanted to buy a computer and they were awfully expensive. What he wanted was $1500, a LOT of money for us at that time. It doesn’t sound like much to you because I know you’re used to buying iphones and such, but I was in school, so we were paying for college, and we had a mortgage, and we were pretty strapped all the time. With the rate of inflation, that would be like Tyler wanting to go out and spend $3,138.00 on his birthday today. Maybe you can relate to that figure a little better.

Daddy had decided his dream was to be a computer programmer, and he would buy these huge, thick, computer books on languages, and he subscribed to several computer magazines. Of course if that was Daddy’s dream, I wasn’t going to say no. I wanted to support him if that was what he wanted to do, so Daddy went out and bought a $1500 Atari computer, and I don’t have to tell you the ending to that. Daddy never left UPS and never became a programmer, and in fact, he never did any computer programming after he created Cosmic Defender, but that was ok. It was something he wanted to try. Investing in Atari might have been a mistake too because I don’t think they are even around anymore, but that was the computer Daddy wanted at the time.

Remember how jealous you were when Daddy wanted to buy me that craft cabinet for my birthday. You thought it was too expensive and I didn’t need it, but since I was turning 50, daddy wanted to get me something special that I really wanted, and later you saw how much I loved that cabinet and how I was able to organize my supplies so easily. Daddy was supporting my hobby and getting me something I really wanted, and hopefully you are supporting Tyler in his effort to be a full stack developer. And if Tyler doesn’t become a software developer and goes on to something else, then that’s ok too. You all have plenty of time.

Around the time you were born, Daddy got into woodworking and wanted to buy all these saws and such. That didn’t go very far either. He made a pull toy, and that wooden coat rack that hangs on the wall by the garage door, and he started on that rocking coyote that sat out in the fort in your swing set and never got finishes. Oh, well. At one time, I wanted to make teddy bears and bought a few books and made a few and quit. And when I went back to college, I was so afraid I couldn’t do it because I was never smart like you and Daddy. I like to say I worked hard for every B and C I ever got. I did get a few A’s too, but not like you, dear daughter. I was a very average student. Anyway, I was terrified about going back to college and thought, “What if I can’t do it and I quit?” and your dad said one of the best things he could have said. He told me that an education was never a waste, and if I took some classes and quit then it was ok because I still would have learned something.

So anyway, I hope Tyler is enjoying school, and it will be interesting to see where you all end up after this. I have no idea what you’re doing, Emma. Are you working for Amica in TX now or doing something completely different? I could picture you in sales. You have the outgoing personality for it. I think you would do well there, but you are smart enough to do well in whatever you choose. Recently, I met a young woman, I think a year younger than you, and she will be going to medical school next year. She has applied to 11 schools and has been accepted to 8 so far, so she must be an exceptional student. They weren’t little Podunk schools either, I know one of them was Harvard. Anyway, of course she made me think of you, and it was just fun seeing her, so young and excited about her future. She admitted it was a lot of hard work, but she thought it was worth it.

That brings me to the Good Doctor. I’d seen scenes for the show, and thought it looked good, but didn’t pay any attention to when it was on. When this man told me that it came on at 10, I told him I’m usually going to bed about then! I asked him if he liked it, and he really did, so thank goodness for internet and I can go back and watch it on line!

The main character is a high functioning autistic young man named Dr. Shaun Murphy. I don’t know anything about the actor who plays Shaun, and I don’t know too much about my son-in-law, Tyler Buchheim, but I got a kick out off noticing the resemblance between the two. Granted, I’ve never met Tyler, so I’m going only on photos I’ve seen, but I thought it was cute. And the show, by the way, is really good. I’ve only seen two episodes, but I like it!

The Good Architect VS. The Good Doctor

The Good Architect

 

and The Good Doctor

 

P.S.  Emma, tell Tyler I’m sorry/not sorry about the Georgia/Notre Dame game.  I was thinking of you all and wondering if you all were there or if maybe Sherry and Bob Buchheim went to the game.  I actually was watching that game, even though it was past my bedtime.  I have way too many friends and coworkers who are UGA fans, so even though I don’t have cable or dish, I’ve kept up with the Dawgs and have even seen some of the games!  I’ve even met some of the players!  I guess we are a house divided!  Praying for you both everyday!  Love, Mom

The Apology That Never Came, Part 3

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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).  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

The Apology that Never Came Part 3

I Thought My Husband Was a Better Man

All throughout the divorce process, I thought my husband would have to come to his senses. I was so wrong. I made a lot of mistakes during the divorce because I believed in my husband and just knew sooner or later he would do the right thing. I didn’t know what was going on in his head, and yes, I think part of it was a midlife crisis. All of a sudden, Phill was free and he had Emma at home to take care of things there, so he could spend as much of his free time as he wanted traveling the country going to RC airplane events and hanging out with his RC buddies, drinking beer, flying planes etc. Sooner or later, Phill would have to face the truth. Emma was a big fat liar. While Phill was off playing with toy airplanes and driving around the country, I was researching into a lot of Emma’s stories and finding out more and more lies. It seemed almost everything Emma had ever told us was a lie.

Once Emma called me from a church youth group meeting, making fun of Phill. She claimed she was so embarrassed by her dad trying to act all cool, saying dumb things and doing the fist bump thing with her friend and sometimes crush Rob Simmons. When Phill got home, I asked him what in the world he was doing and he said he only said hi to Rob and shook his hand. That is just an example of how easily Emma lied. She didn’t even have to plot and scheme to make up a story (although she did that at times, too). The lies just came out so easily.

Emma often lied about doing her chores and all the things I thought were regular kid stuff, but something that stuck in my head was how you could catch Emma red handed and she would still lie. Like a lot of good moms, I tried to limit Emma’s sweets, and we had to lock up any candy, chocolate chips, and even marshmallows or they would disappear. One day, when making a cup of tea, Emma turned up the Sugar container (the glass kind with the metal top, like you find in a diner) and dumped a heaping helping of sugar into her mouth, and I said, “Emma! Don’t eat sugar straight out of the container.” and Emma looked right at me and denied it. I was right there in the kitchen and saw her and she kept denying it. I never understood that part of Emma either.

I knew my husband was a good man, and he was going to have to come to his senses sooner or later. Emma had lied about so, so much. How could he still believe she was molested by the priest? When I emailed him other examples of Emma’s lying, Phill refused to discuss Emma with me. I kept researching and thinking that maybe the next example or the next would help Phill realize what a mistake he made in the way he treated his wife. Well, I’m still waiting for Phill to come to his senses.

During the divorce, I believed sooner or later Phill would face the truth, apologize, and we would get back together, that’s how stupid and naive I was. I always believed my husband was a good man who would take care of his family. I thought Phill believed in our marriage, and would realize it was worth saving. Wrong again.

Maybe coming from a divorced family had something to do with Phill’s handling of Emma’s problems. Phill came from a family who just walked away when things got tough. I’d heard his mother often say that life was too short to be unhappy, and Phill’d been brought up seeing his mother with two failed marriages and multiple boyfriends. I always thought I’d gotten the prize in that family, Phill, who didn’t want to be like the rest of his family and was committed to his marriage. We were a loving couple, and happy, and I thought we set a good example for Emma of what a good marriage was, and I hoped when she married, she would realize that having two loving parents, who loved each other was indeed a blessing. I never thought I’d be competing with my own daughter for my husband, but that’s what happened. Emma became Phill’s second wife until she married Tyler.

Monologue1a

Emma studying her monologue when when she was taking Drama under Bonnie Roberts and Jackson County Comprehensive High School.  All those drama classes paid off!  Emma, did you ever return that book to Ms. Roberts?

Interestingly enough, on the side of the statistics, I have two sisters who have both been married about 35 and 42 years (if my math is right). Both couples have faced some of life’s difficulties, and yet they have stayed married. Also, both my brother-in-laws came from intact homes. Phill fit right into the profile of a child of divorce. Sadly, I saw my sisters and their husbands face challenges and I always thought I was so lucky I was married to Phill because we would be able to get through whatever difficulties came our way. I believed in my husband that much. Yep, wrong again.

One of the mistakes I made during the divorce was to let Phill have the house. Of course, at the time, I thought Phill would wake up and we would get back together, so I wasn’t going to destroy our home. I should have forced Phill to sell the house, or to live in it until the market appreciated and then sell it.

By throwing me out of our home, Phill the advantage and kept EVERYTHING. I think of some of the gifts he got me for my birthday, Christmas, etc., and hope he and Kim Chassion are enjoying my things. The only things Phill put in the storage locker for met to have were personal items such as books, clothes, and old records, and not even all of my records. You would think that Kimberly Chassion, having her own home, in I think it was Auburn, Ga, would not want her new man’s ex-wife’s things. That just seems odd. Or maybe Phill is just mean enough that he wanted to get rid of my things to make room for Kimberly, but didn’t want me to have them. It doesn’t really matter. I recently bought a home and am slowly acquiring things. When you lose your husband and your daughter in such a nightmare like I did, things are not that important. (but Phill darling, I could use some tools, so could I borrow a drill, our chainsaw, the hedge trimmers………….Oh probably not.)

That is pretty much it in a nutshell. I always thought my husband was a better man. I knew that sooner or later, he would face the facts and right the wrongs that he had done. Of course, knowing Phill, I also know how hard it is for him to admit his mistakes, but I always believed in my husband and believed he’d stand up and do what was right. I was wrong. After nearly 27 years of marriage, I guess I didn’t know my husband well at all.

It’s kind of funny. I can’t tell you how many times people have asked me about my divorce and if my husband left me for a younger woman. A friend of mine once piped up, “Yes, his own daughter!” I’ve heard plenty of jokes about Phill and Phill thinking with his “little Phill” and I’ve even jokingly called Phill “Flatworld Phill.” I loved my husband and always believed he’d do the right thing, and always believed that he loved me and would honor his marriage vows. I thought Phill would do whatever he had to to take care of his family. I guess there are worse things in life than to think that someone is a better person that they actually are. I am not the first wife to be betrayed by her husband, and I won’t be the last.

I feel kind of sad when I think of Emma and Tyler because their whole marriage is based on Emma’s lies. I’ve joked about Tyler Buchheim, my “future ex-son-in-law,” but it makes me sad to feel like Emma and Tyler’s marriage is doomed. With the divorce rate as high as it is for healthy relationsips, I can’t help but feel that Emma’s marriage is a sinking ship. Maybe she’s straighten herself out before her marriage fails, but I doubt it. Emma is in too deep to save face now. I’ve wondered if Emma will get pregnant when her marriage starts to fail in an effort to hold on to Tyler. Whatever happens, it will be an interesting ride for poor Tyler.

The Apology that Never Came, Part 2

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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 is studying to be a Full Stack Developer at the Flatiron School.  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.

ff1

Phill, Emma, and our dog, Spike when Emma and I went to watch Phill fly his toy RC airplanes one afternoon.

 

The Apology That Never Came

Part 2

I saw a headline recently to an article, that was something like, “Men Don’t Get Over It, They Just Move On” I’m sure that’s not quite right, but that was the gist of the title, and I thought, “Yep, that’s my husband.”

I think I confused Phill’s work ethic with his character. Phill has one of the strongest work ethics I know. Maybe it’s because his parents divorced when he was just a toddler, and he watched his mother struggle to take care of him and his brother, frequently counting on her mother to babysit while she worked. Maybe it was because when he was older, Phill’s dad bought a diner, and his mother went to work there, and later both Phill and his brother, Andy worked there after school as well.

When Phill worked for UPS, he started out loading the trucks, then driving the big brown trucks, and later driving the tractor trailer trucks. When he told me he had to “pre-trip” the truck everyday, which is checking everything out on the truck before you go anywhere, I always knew Phill would not cut any corners and would do what he was supposed to do each and every day. That was just Phill. He could be very thorough if he needed to be.

When Phill and I met, we were both students working part time in a huge liquor store. I was sent into the big beer cooler to stock on my first day, and Phill, a scruffy looking Grizzly Adams kind of guy, was back there and showed me what to do. Phill was often treated like a manager (although not paid like one) because he’d been there a while and proved to be very responsible. Phill used to joke that it was, “Love in the Beer Cooler” when someone asked how we met, and I often joked that we met, “in a liquor store” letting people think I let Phill pick me up buying booze, just to see their reactions.

Once, when Phill decided to wallpaper our bedroom and bathroom, he researched it, learned how to do everything, and made sure he did it right. I didn’t know how much there was to wallpapering until he showed me. That was Phill. Phill was the same about painting, and did all the time-consuming prep work, and did the job right. Because he was also a procrasintor, sometimes he didn’t finish, but that’s another story.

When I took our little dog to agility classes (just for fun, I wasn’t really interested in competing) Phill looked up all the specifications and made me some jumps, a dog walk, and an A-frame and even painted them to meet the specifications as if I were competing in competitions. That was just Phill.

When I graduated from college, Phill and I talked about I could work to support us if he wanted to go back to school. (He had gone to Georgia Tech, majoring in Electrical Engineering, and flunked out, not because of his grades, but becaues he quit going to class.) Phill would work like a dog if he was getting paid, but when we talked about him going back to school he said he knew he wouldn’t do the “busy work” the he saw me struggle through. He could do it if it interested him and it pertained to what he wanted to do, but he didn’t like wasting time on classes or assignments he thought were unnecessary, and he knew he just wouldn’t do it, so there was no point in going back to school.

I had a hard time understanding this. I’d seen my husband work so hard at some minimum wage paying job if he were getting paid, but he couldn’t think ahead enough to understand if he got through some of the BS that school entails, it would be worth it in the long run. So, that was why Phill stayed a UPS driver.

I can’t remember exactly, but when Phill went to work driving the tractor trailers, he had to train on the weekends, so he drove the brown package cars 5 days a week and then spent two weekends training with the tractor trailers, so that was, I think, about 19 days in a row with no days off, and we aren’t talking 8 hour days, either. But, it was for the job, and he was getting paid, so even though he was worn out after it was over, it was what he wanted, and so he did it. A few years ago, between my two jobs, I worked 17 days in a row and could barely get off the couch on that 18th day, and my jobs aren’t/weren’t near is physical as Phill’s job working for UPS was.

When UPS went on strike in the 90’s, Phill went to do some construction work for one of his coworkers, Kevin O’Gorman. Kevin always had side jobs going on and was known for buying a home, living in it and fixing it up, and then selling it and moving to the next fixer-upper. UPS being on strike was a little frightening, but I knew with Phill’s work ethic, he would do whatever he had to to take care of his family.

Another thing I admired about Phill was that he could do, build, or fix almost anything. Even before computers, he would do the research to accomplish whatever task he was contemplating. I never understood how he was so handy with tools when he grew up with a divorced mom who was rarely home except to sleep, so where did he learn how to be so handy?

These are just some of the examples of Phill’s work ethic. Emma loved to say her dad “just sits on his butt in a truck all day” and I really hope now that she’s been in the working world a little bit, maybe she appreciates her dad’s hard work a little more than that snotty teenager she was being at the time (but honestly, I doubt it.)

I guess because I thought Phill had such a good work ethic, he would be as hard working in the rest of his life. Phill was always easy going, but I never saw that as a flaw, until I realized he could be pretty passive and I joked with him that he was sometimes passive aggressive.  If he really didn’t want to do something, he might not do the best job.  It was ok.  When it comes to flaws, I have plenty of my own, and probably a few more than my easy-going husband.

It wasn’t until our marriage was ending that I realized how passive Phill was. I always thought we were a team. We discussed decisions, usually at my insistence, and Phill would do things like research a mortgage and decide who we were going to go with, but any difficult family decisions were left to me. Phill didn’t want children, I was the one who wanted a baby. (Although he was thrilled when the time came.) I had to be the disciplinarian, decide Emma’s medical issues, choose Emma’s schools, camps, extracurricular activities, decide on homeschooling, public school, etc. If Emma wanted to attend an activity, or go on an expensive trip, it was up to me to say yay or nay. I could talk to Phill about anything, but he always left the decisions up to me. When Emma claimed to be molested, I was the one that thought she needed to talk to someone other than me, so I was the one who had to interview therapists. I always did my best in making these choices, but Phill left it all to me.

My husband, who was such a hard worker, let a 17 year old take over and run his life. His marriage vows meant nothing. There was a new sheriff in town, and her name was Emma.

After I found out that Emma had lied about “Lacey” being raped, and “Lacey” never attempted suicide, never called Emma from the ER up in Dalton, Ga., so there was no catalyst for Emma’s repressed memories of being seually molested when she was 12, I began investigating other stories. You can read back through the blog about many of the lies. Emma claimed to be babysitting and had to call 911 on a bipolar child, Emma has the toxicology report to prove her mother poisoned her with DDT, Emma’s one-act play competitions was ruined by another school tampering with their sound equipment………. Big lies and little lies. Emma’s whole life was full of them. Emma would say something about someone, and I would talk to the person and bring up what Emma had told me and find out Emma had just made up story after story. Many of her lies were harmless, and some were hilarious. Some lies Emma took from something she read, like the Reader’s Digest, and others came from something she saw on the internet. Being a loving mom, I just excused Emma’s stories thinking she misunderstood something someone said, thinking she just got the story wrong, or maybe I was confused and got the story wrong, but then when I would check with Emma, she would re-confirm what she had said, and, well, no……………..I wasn’t crazy.  She could sure make me feel like I was though.

We had a friend, Emma’s “Aunt Janice” who swore like a sailor at times, but then cracked us up when she said things like she was letting her dogs out to go “pee-pee-doodle,” so one day Emma told me about Aunt Janice swearing “Jimminy Crap-Shit” at pet adoptions.  I thought that was pretty funny, and when later I said something to Janice about it, she said, “I never said that.” It sure sounded good though, didn’t it?  Emma has a great sense of humor with her stories.

Emma claimed that at her youth group one day, her crush, Evan and his mom were there, and Evan’s mom was talking about how she made the boys (a high schooler and a middle schooler) use sippy cups in the living room so they didn’t spill on the carpet.  Emma claimed Evan got so angry at his mom that he stormed out of the church and Emma looked out the window a few minutes later and then said, “Ummm, Miss Megan, your van is driving away.” and then Evan’s mom went running out of the church to catch up to Evan.  Great story, right?

Until I started digging, I had no idea how much of a problem Emma had with lying. I know kids lie, but when is lying a problem? Looking back, in Emma’s case, she lied more than she told the truth. I had absolutely no idea that there was something wrong with Emma, and it wasn’t that she was sexually molested. There was something much more going on. I wonder now, has Tyler Buchheim started to catch on? I know he’s busy with school and all, but living with Emma, you would think he would start to notice that something is not quite right with his wife. Does Emma gaslight Tyler the way she did me? Hiding things and then acting like I was the crazy one who but the math book in the bathroom cabinet or the cordless phone in the refridgerator?  Is it possible Emma will outgrow her lying habit or is is just something that is part of her personality forever and ever, amen? It will be interesting to see just where Emma is in a few years and what else is going on with her.

I remember when Bill Clinton was president and was sometimes referred to as the “liar-in-cheif.” On second thought, maybe Emma should get into politics. She might have quite a career there.

I’ve gotten a little off track in writing about Phill and the apology that never came. I have a little more to say on that and will continue in the next post.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to contact me with any questions or comments.

Love to you all.