Just like in the early days of our relationship, issues would bubble to the surface and so long as we were facing them and not running away, we would get through it (isn’t that just ‘the way?’). Seemingly better than ever from my perspective. We were introduced to a depth that while new to us, felt as old as time. The issues that presented themselves…practically always the same, yet different in their presentation and intensity. It was just plain ‘nice’ to be able to come together in a way that resembled normalcy to some degree with fresh understandings. Healthy feels good.

Henry would still come around here and there when necessary to remind us of the basics…awareness, vision, higher calling…but there were new messengers too with other specific messages, which was also quite amazing! There was the Blue Jay and the Blue Bird and Harry the Blue Heron…dedication, joy, stillness. And the Fox and the Deer and Vick the Vulture…awareness, compassion, and healing.

My love was busy with work, school, and life in general but was also trying to find his place in post-Covid Alcoholics Anonymous. His sponsor had pretty much stopped going to meetings altogether, which left him in a precarious position. In a way, I understood that, as I had put all my eggs in the Betsy basket and had quite a hard time staying connected after she was gone (though I never stopped going to meetings). He began going to a meeting every Friday night. It was a start and a relief, though in my experience, one meeting a week often proves not enough.

I would stay with his children many of those Friday nights and meaning was melded there too. They began to tell me they loved me on their own accord. It was an honor to earn their love, and one not taken lightly…

I kept a watchful eye on my daughter since everything went down with her father and Covid and all of it practically colliding at the same time. It felt very sudden that she started acting…not herself. It would happen sporadically. Not all the time. I didn’t know if it was due to her experiences, or if it was part of growing up, or if it had to do with friends, or something else was going on, or some combination of everything. I kept the lines of communication open (or so I thought)…

~

I sometimes find it difficult to talk to her about serious things. Not in the plain stating of rules and hard truths, but in relaying the actual importance and reasoning behind these things. Conveying my thoughts and emotions verbally with clarity, is not one of my strengths as a person. In fact, it’s likely my greatest downfall. Though, by this time, I was more open than ever, relationships always showed me that this is still where I fall short. Therefore, it’s usually something I’m always working on.

There were really only two emotions in my house growing up, happiness and anger. If something else was going on, you didn’t talk about it. You stuffed it down or ran away (my personal favorite). If you cried, you’d likely get made fun of. So, you don’t let anyone see you cry. You let all your feelings build up until the pain morphs into anger, at which time, you react…never respond, always react…

It’s no one person’s fault. I just think that past generations (and still many presently) had little use for understanding emotion when they were so busy trying to survive…and I don’t mean to overvalue emotion either. I mean to value them aptly, as they are powerful markers pointing to what needs attention and are as much a part of us as any other aspect…

~

One of these times when she was acting not herself, I tried talking to her, but was getting nowhere. Emotions were starting to run high, and it was getting late. We made a plan to resume the conversation the next day. I sang to her, hugged and kissed her good night and took her iPod with me on my way out.

One thing she used to love to do was to learn the popular dances with her friends. They spent most of their time together dancing. There was an app for kid’s specifically that allowed them to share their dance videos with each other…

I laid on my bed and followed the instinct to check her iPod. I did this regularly, which she knew. I checked the kid dance app and noticed something new…some messaging icon. I clicked on it and saw a boy’s face and name I had never seen before. She was taught not to talk to strangers, but this boy was a stranger to me. I needed to know who this person was. I also found other apps that weren’t there before. Apps that I knew nothing about and another conversation with someone I didn’t know. This individual didn’t have a real picture on their profile. Their message wasn’t outrightly explicit, but the connotation was. I felt sick to my stomach…I messaged them right then and asked who they were. I was immediately blocked. (That was a bad move on my part. As that person was never identified.)

I couldn’t wait until morning to get answers, so I went back to her room and asked who these people were. She had no answer or explanation. She just got really upset.

The next morning, she still didn’t really have any answers, though she was very worried and crying some more.

What the fuck is going on here? What could she possibly be hiding and why is she hiding it??

I decided to take the iPod to the local police station. I was ushered into the office of the only detective in my town. The office was dim and cramped with a bulging desk fitting for a hefty man like him. There were two chairs inches across from the desk that backed up into the wall. Every surface in the room was cluttered with family photos. That was a nice touch actually. The pictures initially gave me hope that maybe he would care…

He took a report and while he wasn’t exactly cold, he wasn’t comforting either. He said he would see what he could do and admitted to not having much experience in this area.

I walked away unsettled…

After a few sleepless nights and dead-end conversations with my daughter, I called the detective. He was giving me the runaround and had essentially gotten nowhere. How could I possibly be ok with nothing? I had no idea what was going on and I had to know if this was something, so that I could understand what was going on with my child.

Luckily, the AA sponsor of my ex happened to be an ATF agent who had many connections (but what happens to those that don’t have these connections?). He got involved that very day and called a detective he knew in the Major Crimes Unit in our county. The detective agreed to help, took possession of the iPod and got to work.

The detective kept in touch every few days and within a few weeks, he called…

“The boy from the dance app is not a boy. He’s a very bad man, 27-years-old living in Boise, Idaho. He lives with a woman and her two children (who endured the brunt of the abuse). There are other victims all across the country. What is your daughter doing talking to this person??!”

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