Something so secretly sinister that it defied description. This thing was so insidious, something so gradually cunning and crafty that I was pouring my heart, soul, life and spirit into a battle of survival against it; not knowing that I was destined to lose. This was a condition passed down from one generation to another and involved larceny by trickery, theft by false pretenses, lies told simply for the reward from lying itself, sordid motives and bribes and scams and a mob mentality, not to mention addiction and abuse. These in turn would be modeled and given freely to their progeny in order to watch the consequences play out for others. The subversion and secrecy was so veiled that it was impossible to detect what was truly afoot. You would get only pieces of being "had" but never know what was underneath it all. You could know there was a tree of deceit but not the root it grew from.
It was the opening day of the State Fair in late August. We went to the Fair as a family. It had been a wonderful summer. I had spent weeks preparing my entries in baking and canning and my daughter would enter some things I had helped her with in her 4H Group. A lot of the women and girls in our little rural community had entered their favorite and best efforts. I thought this would be a great adventure as well as fun at the fair. I was excited but reserved and I was little giddy inside as I knew I was a part of this event in my own small way. It was a good feeling. We were in public and we would have fun.
As we entered through the gate at the fairgrounds the smells and sounds greeted us. There is an unmistakable atmosphere full of tantalizing aromas and noises at a fair. An orchestra of organ grinder music from the Carnival, together with the shrieks from the rides gave off a jangled harmony of excitement. Carnies invited people to participate by barking "Get your honey a stuffed animal here "Only a dime a throw". The lights from the Ferris wheel twinkled as the chairs rolled round and round in a dizzying display as you looked up at them. Puffs of Cotton candy seemed to be floating like pink clouds in the midst of the patrons. We couldn't wait to see the 3 headed monster in the spook house and giggle at our distorted images in the House of Mirrors. It was silly fun but I loved it. My children being 8 and 10 added to the thrill because they were old enough to really enjoy it. The true joy was seeing through the eyes of a child again. A vicarious moment you might say.
We soon wandered into the Barn that displayed all the entries that had been judged and awarded. It was my turn. I knew there were hundreds of entries in every category so I didn't expect to win but the joy was in participating and exposing my kids to something so big. Maybe I would even get 5th place or honorable mention. I went to see the baked entries first and they were next to my daughters entries so I looked everything over and of course she placed in all she entered. I was so excited for her but she had gone off with her dad to look at my canning exhibits. I went to catch up with them. We met as they were returning to see me and he told me that I hadn't even placed at all. That was hard to believe but I and took it in stride. However, something looked "OFF". There was that inner voice again: "warning, caution, pay attention". My daughter was very quiet almost sullen and she was no longer interested in what she had entered at all. The whole thing had taken a downturn in mood and demeanor and I was trying to keep my anxiety under control while I tried to read between the lines. What was going on?
We wondered off further into the animal barns and my husband was distant and aloof. It was as if the kids were walking on eggshells and I had no idea what had changed the mood so drastically. Hopefully we could enjoy some rides and get something to eat to elevate their spirits.
We left for home…nothing left to see. It was so miserable being married to him, I thought to myself. I am 35 and absolutely miserable. Oh well, there will be other fairs, I decided. This was the day that the seeds of a toxic alliance were planted in earnest right under my nose.
Two weeks later it was time to pick up our entries from the Fair office and claim our prizes and monetary compensations. There it was, in black and white, with a blue ribbon attached to it: my jam had taken 1st place and some other awards as well! I was without a good explanation for this deceit, but the lump in my throat told me that he had taken my ribbons off of the jars when he previewed my entries and my daughter had kept his secret. She knew what he had done and she would never tell on him. How confused she must have been. I decided that I would never let on that I received the ribbon and tell the truth about winning first place with my jam. I put it away and never mentioned it again. I would not engage him over this. It was now obvious that he could not afford for me to ever know my worth. He wanted me to think that I was failure. That would guarantee my dependence on him. How wrong he was.
You know what they say, "Once it is jam it isn't strawberries anymore." Things had changed. I had made validation jam without even knowing it. This jar of red sweetness was very unimpressive just sitting there without a ribbon on it but within it was the secret that the thief thought he had stolen, my SELF.
He didn't know that I knew how twisted he really was and I would get out of this relationship before I would let on about his craziness. The things he had done before this were indicative of a perverse pattern of behavior that I no longer wanted to be around. He had stolen recipes that I had received compliments on. He had dug up flower bulbs that I had planted and when they didn't come up he wanted me to believe that I was an inadequate gardener, he hid things and then blamed me for losing them. Thank God I had been given a strong mind and his games were cataloged in my mind as things to watch out for but never taken on as my true beliefs. This was the turning point, however difficult it was to live with. On this day in September, I promised myself that I would not continue to live like this. I would definitely be divorcing him but it would take a year and half to get that in motion without spilling the beans. It would take 3 years more to actually get a divorce. It was dangerous enough as it was and to divulge my closely guarded secret would bring on a wrath too volatile to survive. I was getting closer to the truth but not close enough. I wouldn't find out that I was dealing with a personality disorder and some form of psychopathy intertwined with Pseudologia Fantastica (Pathological Lying) until it was too late: 3 more decades. I was looking under every rock trying to find out what had happened to my children. The answers were not kind. By this time I had had their backs for 40 years off and on, but eventually forgiveness and empathy would look like stupidity. How many times are you going to let them lie to you and humiliate you before you close your doors? I had gotten rid of the man who had betrayed me in many ways and many times, I just couldn't find a way to free us from his genetic code.
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