My story…

I was raised by a bipolar mother and a violent father. My youth was filled with abuse—verbal, physical, mental, emotional and sexual. I usually felt left out by my peers and was the subject of constant bullying at school.

Needless to say my self-esteem was in the toilet early. I desperately wanted to have a happy family life and unfortunately married the first pretty face that showed me any interest. Her father—alcoholic, her mother—control freak just as bad as my mother, she—suffered childhood sexual abuse.

Six months after getting married I had my first flashback of my repressed memories of sexual abuse. Started on a cycle of anti-anxiety medicines and weekly therapy sessions to deal with the memories. Started on my own addiction—pornography.

We moved from New York to Florida to get a fresh start and establish ourselves independently. Eventually we were blessed with two beautiful children—a boy and a girl. Financially we struggled and to get needed support moved back to New York.

We ended up living with her parents in the same house for a few months. Her family is well to do in spite of their issues, so her parents purchased a duplex and we all moved there together.

In the autumn of 2007 my wife accused me of sexually abusing our oldest—my son. This was devastating to me. Realistically, I don’t know when I would have had opportunity to do it. If I wasn’t working I was on my computer or sleeping.

One of the symptoms of my medical diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was that I tended to isolate myself. Frankly I could count on one hand the number of times I had changed diapers or given the children a bath.

The added pressure of the accusation to my already fragile mental state was really more than I could handle. Our already damaged marriage took a severe nosedive. During one particularly nasty fight my wife told me “You just better be glad I didn’t tell my mother (about the accusation of child sexual abuse), what do you think she would do if she found out.” The next day she made good on her threat.

My wife’s mother had her and the children taken into protective custody by social services of our county and I was called by a family court clerk and told that unless I wanted to be arrested I should show up and Family Court for a hearing the next day.

The court issued an emergency order of protection for her and the children. In addition to the accusation of sexual abuse of our son it seems she told them that I had a violent temper and could not be trusted lest I attempt to assault or kill them. Never-mind that I did not own any weapons, had never been arrested, never been handcuffed or had law enforcement come to our home for domestic disturbance.

My worthless public defender did make one interesting comment during all this drama by stating what now seems so obvious “Are you sure she isn’t trying to divorce you.”

That’s what it really was all about—divorce. She wanted out of our marriage, by any means necessary, without me being a factor in her our our children’s lives, and for good. It seems that during our seven and a half years of marriage dealing with my emotional disabilities, anxiety and depression were just too much. She met with her limit, her breaking point, and wanted out.

Criminal charges of child sexual abuse were never filed due to lack of any evidence. Family offense charges were filed but then were later dropped.

I applied to Family Court for visitation with my children, supervised or other. After several months of testimony my petition was denied by the Magistrate; no reason was given. His words: “Petitioners motion for visitation denied” nothing more. I found out that a couple of months later this magistrate was removed from his position, nothing related to my case though.

It is now May 2013, I have not seen my children since the beginning of January 2008. Sometimes it feels that not existing would be a nice option.