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I want to apologize for my sporadic blog posts guys! When I began this ongoing blog, I had better hopes I would blurt out my history in only a few blog posts and my future posts would be about my daily thoughts. Clearly this became more of a chore then I had hoped for. I’ll continue on. Not only for you, but for myself. Someday my recall of the past might make for a great memory later, or book? Who knows? Regardless I’d like to give you better effort to show you my life, living with a sex offender.

To date I have introduced myself and my neighbor living across the street- the sex offender. At this point I still live in my grandpa’s house. I have my two girls, and I am in a wilted marriage. My best support comes from my best friend Jill, who lives 2 roads over from me.

After our neighborhood get- together, where I exercised my love for picture taking, I found myself two months later on an exciting adventure though our small town with “Him.”  The most memorable part of this excursion was not just the picture taking, but the small gestures he did. Not planned, but natural responses. He had this genuine intrigued for me. He seemed to be so inspired by my carefree, upbeat spirit. One memory that stands out from that day was when we took a sharp turn up a dirt road toward the mountain. music blaring, we were chatting and laughing and then boom! the corner was there! As the car jerked there was a direct response from him, like that of a parent who’s guarding their precious child. Out went the arm, Ya know? The kind that is similar to a  karate chop- straight arm catching you before you face bash the dash.  All afternoon as I was soaking in natures beauty, I was also indulging in the small ways he was making me feel special. Just the fact that he noticed my passion in art and wanted to participate was huge. I was missing that kind of partnership in my life. Now before you gasp at my adultrous ways just understand, my heart had been cultivated long before this day. Let me dip back a little bit further.

My husband Mike and I were married for almost 10 years. I was 17 when we got engaged and 4 months later when I turned 18 we married. It just was that next step in life two people take. For me it was in ordinance. We were young love. We used each other to get by in life. Moving out at 17 was pretty stupid of me, but I did it anyway. It’s one of those things you do that doesn’t grief you until many years later, then you can’t take it back, you cant just have a due-over. But oh, how my life could have been different.

Mike and I were playful and spontaneous, but we were still growing. We did not have compassion for one another. Early days together we did our best to hold jobs. Weekends were for drunk parties and friend sleep overs. I was not prepared for life. I could not pay bills, he had no commitment to work and we constantly found ourselves homeless. These early days were only preparing me for resentment in the future.

Mikes mother lived in New York State that’s why we moved there. We finally hit a dead end in work and housing where we currently were.. I found out I was pregnant and I think he felt the only help left was his mom. We stayed with her while he got a job and earned enough for a place of our own. Fast forward 2 years and there we were with our daughter Grace and a loaded uhaul moving us back to NH.

I welcomed daughter #2- Charity in 2007. Shortly after her birth I crossed paths with a friend from my past. We started to hang out again. We recapped the days she would come over an drink. Since those days she had has a daughter same age as my oldest, AND had a son same age as Charity. She and her husband were on the rocks lately and she was finding comfort at my house. So much comfort that I grew suspicious when I’d came home and she was there. Before I could conclude anything crazy, Mike delivered to me the absurd news.

We were on the couch one evening. I was holding charity to comfort her before bed. I never would have guess that I would be the one needing comforting that night. He said please don’t be mad at me. What I’m about to tell you happened a long time ago, but I need to tell you this now. Lindsey and I slept together. My world stopped and the air became thick. he continued to try to explain that it happened before we moved to NY and before I got pregnant.  There was more; in the last few months he was trying to determined if her oldest daughter could have been his, the timing was right that it could very have well been. The saving grace was that she looked just like Jared, Linz’s husband. The more he elaborated on his infidelity the more panic and disbelief I experienced. I cried burring my face into my baby girl. Yes we were not perfect, no we were not deeply in love, but this was my life and marriage. Until that moment I had never even entertained the idea of Divorce.

Sadly, I was quick to dismissed the idea of divorce after the initial sting had faded.. My efforts were to keep our family together.  I never would have guessed how this would continue to plague our relationship, or worse, the relationship horrors that were coming.

(this post is a continuance from blogs I made previously, please refer to them below, they are numbered)

Time to meet this guy I thought to myself. I recall a few years in past he had stopped by to visit his grandpa next door. I can recall him riding a motorcycle at one point. And prior to that he had had dialogue with my then husband and came in my home to admire the new remodeling we were doing. At the time I was sick as a dog and only allow my eyes to sneak a peak out from under the blanket I had over me, as I laid lifeless on the couch. He was handsome and charming I can recall, but the timing was wrong, my soul was not searching.

So here we are roughly five years later and there comes a knock on my door. Hi, my name is George. Could I borrow a pan? Was I annoyed? maybe a little. I was trying to get the house cleaned and my two girls to bed. I had heard the rumors and I was not in the mood to appease any sort of pick up line. I quickly gave him the pan and wish him a good night, no hurry with the pan.

It was that night that I decided the time was right to see what this sex offender did to land the title. I took to the internet and sent out a search on the man next door…with my pan.

The mad dog watch page displayed a identifying mug shot as well as a brief description.

RSA: A:3 Felonious Sexual Assault 11/4/94

I contemplated how to handle living so close to him, how to guard outside play for girls. It weighed on me, but not intensely. I’m not an over reactor by any means. I didn’t find his behaviors odd at times we had contact. But I also understand that not all convicts show signs.

I quickly reasoned in my mind that avoidance would be best, until she came back around….

this post is a continuance from a blog I made previously, please refer to them below, they are number in order)

Like I said in my fist blog I’m going to unravel the beginning of my relationship and how I got to where I am now in this parallel normal life.
As I mentioned earlier I have faced much of what others face. I was married at 18 had 3 little girls, and came to realize his infidelity. It was a challenge to keep a marriage together without trust. I tried to pretend all was ok. The final straw was when his addiction began. His desire to find any fix he could and the effects of it rapidly crumble all that I tried so hard to hold together.
I was broke, desperate and building quite an anger deep down.
We lived in my grandfather’s house on a quiet street. After grampa passed my mother inherited the small home. She used it as a rental for us so we could move back from Ny where we had spent a couple years. The street hadn’t changed much, all the families on the street were either the same owners or their families from the days my mother grew up there. Across the street was home to my grandfather’s rival. I can’t say they hated eachother, after all, my mother got along with his children for the most part. My grandfather just didn’t see eye to eye with Henry next door, the older he got the grumpier they both got. A few years after moving to that quiet street Henry passed away. This was nearing the end of my husbands and I’s almost 10 year marriage. But I didn’t know how to affirmatively cut the cord.

The news on the street was Henry’s grandson was moving into the house during the time probation period.
Sure enough, May of 2011 he occupied the house directly across from me. At first I didn’t see much of him. Murmurs from Neighbors, that knew the childhood of those from that street, claimed he was a good guy!  Best part of that younger generation in the family. A friend of mine who lived further down the road was skeptical. One day while we were together outside and the kids were playing he came by with his four wheeler. It had a bucket on the back and he asked if the girls would like a ride? I looked at their begging faces, sure why not? Go ahead I said, while he drove up the loop of the road my friend leaned over to me and wispered, “Be careful, he is a sex offender you know?” It was the first time I learned of this and although I was shocked at the information I played it off as no big deal, I shrugged and said, I’m not worried, they will be fine. But the truth was, deep down I was concerned, I had two little girls in the back of that wagon…..
See the first mention of sex offender put a negative seed in my head, I somehow without trying, created a monster in my mind. Let’s just say after that day I put my guard up.
But why? How did he become a sex offender?
I’ll get to that in my next blog…