Sophia just stood there clutching her childhood black and white polka dot suitcase. Her face was pale, and she had a look of fear combined with exhaustion from the turmoil of the last few days. We were about to leave our broken teenage daughter and her childhood suitcase with complete strangers. We had no idea for how long or when we would see her again. It was one of the most unnatural, helpless and heartbreaking feelings I have ever experienced.
After a brief meeting with the staff, it was time to say our goodbyes. Brenna and Sophia were crying uncontrollably by this point as they hugged for the last time. As I watched them, my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest and thought I might have a panic attack. The brown double doors closed quietly behind us, and now there were only three of us walking slowly back to the rental car. I fell into Greg’s arms and cried harder than I had in a very long time. The terrified look Sophia had on her face as we said goodbye was stamped in my brain. She was alive, and that was all that mattered. But, it still did not calm the relentless fear I felt about leaving her in the hands of total strangers. Was she scared? Angry? She had to feel everything that I was feeling, times a hundred.
Sophia stayed there for three long months, and it was one of the most challenging times emotionally as a mom. Did it help? I think it did, because she is alive and doing extremely well all these years later. But she was also exposed to girls with far more serious issues, ranging from gang rape to molestation by family members, addiction and homelessness with no parental support. She was only sixteen and was dealing with very adult situations, away from her family and was allowed minimal contact with us.
I want to share some of Sophia’s own words from this time in her life. It was heartbreaking for me to read about the pain she experienced and how much she needed me. Like most moms, I would have traded places with Sophia any day so that she didn’t have to feel afraid. As she and I discussed what part of her story she wanted to share, we both agreed on one thing—we are better people for going through all that we did during that time. Sophia certainly is, and I am in awe of who she is today. Another example of a true warrior.
I laid in my bed the first night I was there and closed my eyes. I prayed that when I opened them, I would be back in my room at home. The funny thing is I never really prayed before until that first night. I opened and closed my eyes maybe fifty times and when they were closed, I pretended I was back home.
I tried so hard to imagine hearing my mom watching Dateline in the other room. I used to hate the sound of a distant TV, but in this moment that was all I wanted to hear. I wanted to walk downstairs, grab a glass of water and sit down next to her.
I wanted my mom to come in this terrifyingly dark room and tell me goodnight like she always did. But it was only the nurse that was coming in. She came in every fifteen minutes to make sure we were alive and not doing something I was not supposed to be doing.
If I had to go to the bathroom, I had to call out to a nurse to escort me and she stood there watching the entire time, then walk me back to my room.
This became my new normal. I woke up at 6am, breakfast was at 7am, snack at 10:30, lunch at 12, another snack at 3:30, dinner at 6pm, and the last snack at 7:30pm. All pre-made meals prepared just for my body type and where I was in my eating disorder. What I needed to survive. Structure instantly became my life with minimal contact with the outside world. I saw things no sixteen year old should ever see and was forced to grow up very quickly.
Everything in that place still appears in my dreams. The smells, the sounds, the people almost haunt me. Even though it probably saved me, I don’t ever want to go back.
When it was finally time for Sophia to leave, I had the illusion that when I picked her up, all our problems would be over and life would be better. While she was so happy to see me and excited to come home, our relationship was very strained for a while. I did not expect it and didn’t understand why. It was as if she blamed me for all that had happened. I just could not figure out what was wrong, and she wasn’t telling me. There was so much tension between us, she ended up going to live with Greg and Elaine full-time, hardly speaking to me for months.
I thought the counselors had somehow put into her head that I was to blame for her eating disorder. They had mentioned more than once what a bad idea the weight loss contest was and that it had ignited the whole thing. It absolutely crushed me that she didn’t want to live with me, and nothing I could do or say was right. Even though Sophia never said it, maybe the stability of having two parents living together in the same house, like Greg and Elaine, was the stability she needed. Unfortunately, that was something I could not give her. Then again, maybe it wasn’t about me at all, but I sure felt like it. Maybe everything was my fault and I had no clue how to make any of it better.
Not long after returning from San Diego, Sophia started acting out once again. She was sneaking out with random boys and just plain being defiant when it came to following the rules and curfews Greg and I imposed. While our relationship had slowly improved, Sophia only wanted to be at the house of the parent who suited her interests. She was not acting like herself, and out of fear her life was in jeopardy again, we sent her to a different treatment center, this time in East Texas.
This place was more like a boarding school without the school part. It had a Christian-based protocol for getting through to troubled teens and was recommended by a friend who told us it saved their child. It was a ranch with twenty or so cabins surrounding the main building and had the feel of a really nice summer camp for rich kids—and the price tag to go with it.
This place did not accept insurance like the one in San Diego, but we felt it might be a better fit and was really our only option that had a spot available for her at the time. She would live there for nine months, and it ended up being the answer to our prayers. While it was not perfect and it had its fair share of weird things that went on, I believe that the exposure to religion and counselors who treated her like a human being turned her life around.
As I said earlier, organized religion was never part of my own childhood, nor our family’s, but I saw firsthand how it can be life-changing for so many. It absolutely opened my own eyes, and while I do not attend church, I do have a private and personal relationship with God. I love the talks we have alone in my car on a regular basis. I believe He was there for me on that overpass, just as He was there for my child exactly when she needed Him.
While Sophia was away at the second treatment center in East Texas, I found myself again leaning on a man for support to help take my mind off how much seemed to be going wrong in my life. On top of that, Dawson had started making these constant yelling noises from the time he woke up until he went to bed. He wore sound-canceling headphones, which was the only thing that made the yells come out softer for some strange reason. He even slept in them.
By the end of the day, my nerves would be on edge from lack of quiet and inability to hardly leave the house on weekends, other than car rides. Thank God Greg and I were able to take turns keeping Dawson, or we would have no doubt gone crazy from the endless yelling and sleep deprivation.
I was barely coming off my broken engagement during this time, when husband number four entered the picture, full of all the sweet talk and support I could ask for.
I knew Steven from our earlier years in Arizona, when I was married to Greg and he was married to a wonderful lady that I was acquainted with. Steven had heard through the grapevine that I was single, and he had just gone through his own divorce. He flew in to Austin on business and got in touch with me, asking if I wanted to get together for dinner. As I said yes, I felt a twinge; something didn’t seem right about it, but for some reason I chose to ignore that inner voice once again.
He had the kind of looks that you either thought were sexy or not attractive at all. Sometimes I would look at him and think, Damn he is hot, and other times I would think, He is not my type at all. The date ended up being nothing special, and I remember feeling a little awkward about the
whole thing. But when he took me back to my condo, it was our first kiss that changed everything. Yes, I guess you could say that was some first kiss.
I had not seen or talked to his ex-wife for many years, but it still bothered me, like I was doing something wrong. Looking back, it was just another example of my gut talking to me, and I really should have listened. It felt wrong because it was wrong. Not only did I know, deep inside, he was another Band-Aid on my wounded heart, I was breaking the girl-code by getting involved with a man who was once married to someone I knew and liked very much.
I was in an extremely vulnerable place. I was constantly worried about Sophia, on top of being a single mom with a lot on my plate. Greg and I were not seeing eye to eye when it came to the kids, and there was constant tension between us. I felt Elaine was overstepping as a stepmother at times and voicing her opinions about things that I felt were none of her business. Even if she meant well, I did not appreciate it and was maybe even a little jealous when Sophia and Brenna would sometimes lean on her more than me. I also was jealous that she and Greg seemed to be a happy team; the team that Greg and I used to be. She was living my life, first with my husband and now with my kids. Yes, I know that sounds extremely selfish. I realize that Elaine was actually being a wonderful stepparent, but back then I couldn’t see it through the lens of my confused eyes.
Steven took my mind off all the chaos taking over my brain with his constant affirmations of how amazing I was, which at the time was the exact opposite of how I felt about myself. After our first date, he flew back to Michigan, where he was living with his parents. Yes, his parents. We talked for hours on the phone every night for a month. He listened to me dutifully as I talked about all my kids, my fears, my struggles and gave sound advice with heartfelt concern.
Even with all the care and concern he was showing, red flags were boldly waving all around me. Once again, everyone in my life seemed to notice, everyone except me. Hayley kept telling me to slow down and that I didn’t really know him as well as I thought I did. My close friends kindly told me their concerns as well, but I just didn’t want to hear it.
After a month of long-distance bonding over the phone, I flew to Michigan for a weekend to see him. By the end of that weekend, we were already talking about marriage. I am cringing right there with you. I realize now how insane it was, given all that was going on in my life. How I ever thought this was a great idea, I may never fully understand.
We eloped three months later at a Justice of the Peace a couple of days after New Year, 2013. The only people who knew we were going to do it were both of our parents and his siblings, who we had just spent New Year’s Eve with. Oddly enough, my parents seemed totally on board after meeting him once on a visit he made to Austin. They later told me that they had bad vibes about the marriage, but they wanted me happy and thought he made me happy. At the time it was true.
I can only imagine how my children felt when I called them from Michigan the day Steven and I got married. Not my most shining moment as a mother. Sadly, I remember thinking it was my life and I could do whatever I wanted. I thought I was doing what was best in the long run for all of us, and that they would eventually come to love him. I was determined for us to be some sort of normal family, and I thought being married was the way that would happen. I realize now just how irresponsible and irrational all of this was.
That marriage lasted nine months, and we hardly even lived together the entire time we were married. I stayed in Austin with the kids to be able to visit Sophia on parent weekends. I never dug deep into all that was going on in Steven’s personal life, I just trusted that the things he told me were true. He had created the illusion that things were all good in his life and that he was part of a new start-up company that was just about to take off. That was the reason he was living with his parents—to save money until that happened.
Did I wonder why a grown man, who used to drive around in a Range Rover and lived in a million-dollar home, was living with his parents? Not really, for some odd reason. I knew his ex-wife’s family came from money and that much of their lifestyle was from that, but I did soon wonder why things were so tight financially, there had to have been some savings.
Steven started working for the family business in Michigan for extra cash until the company was supposedly getting underway. Somehow he talked me into buying a little house for him to live in just down the street from his parents so when I came for visits, we had a place to stay. It was a darling little house that looked just like a dollhouse in a storybook. It was pale yellow with a huge porch in the back and flower boxes attached all around the railing. I really can’t explain why I went along with the plan, especially knowing that I would never live there. It was all presented to me in a very convincing manner, and I willingly jumped right on board with the crazy plan. As I write this, I have to wonder if I believed this perfect little house would some how make my own life seem perfect?
It was during the purchase of the house that the wheels of the relationship started to fall off. I paid for the entire home, I furnished it with extra furniture I had, and paid to have it shipped there. I also paid $10,000 of his credit card debt, which I never saw again. I felt lied to, even though it was my fault for not asking more questions and moving way too fast. I can fall in love quickly, but I can also fall out even quicker. I do believe I was in love at first, and I know he loved me. I’m sure he assumed I was fine, footing the bill for everything, so who would blame him for letting me?
I don’t think he ever meant any harm or malice toward me, and he did have many good qualities which I obviously fell for. There was a time when he was a wonderful shoulder to lean on while Sophia was in treatment, and he provided something for me that no one else could at the time. But the whole thing never felt right, and I always felt as if I was constantly making up reasons that it was. I will never forget his favorite line, which was, “I am very resourceful.” I think I was the resource in that statement many times. It soon became clear it was time for me to leave a marriage once again.
This was one giant, embarrassing, expensive mistake. Again I have no one to blame but myself. I can only imagine the eye rolling and head shaking that was going on around me. I was humiliated, to say the least, but in a way it woke me up. I really needed to get my shit together, and fast. I realized more than ever that I needed to focus 100 percent on my kids, not on my own emotional needs or the quest to have a normal family . . . whatever that was. Sophia especially needed me more than ever, not some lovesick needy mother who was afraid to be alone. Her time at the treatment center was coming to an end, and I was thrilled to bring her home.
After nine months in East Texas she was a new person. I finally had my child back, but now things between Sophia and Greg were strained. He was much more strict than I was when it came to monitoring the kids. He checked phones and social media accounts, and would call them out when he saw something he didn’t like. Sophia did not like how closely she was being watched on social media, and she let her dad know it.
Now, I appreciate that he was harder on the girls than I was, and he was better about making them accountable for their behavior. I continued to be more of a loving friend than a strict parent—not always the right thing to do. Greg and I had a rough year and did not get along while Sophia was away. We constantly fought about what was going on with our very rebellious middle daughters and how to handle it; we were never on the same page. But things did get better between us when Sophia got home and Brenna left for college. It looked like the difficult teen years were finally coming to a much anticipated end.
Sophia had missed her entire junior year of high school. We decided as a family that returning to her old high school in Austin would not be the best choice, as we feared she might slip back into the old crowd. Since Brenna had graduated high school and was in college now, we decided to move to Cypress, Texas, a quiet suburb of Houston. My brothers and their families were still there, and their support was exactly what we needed. I am sure t
hey were convinced that I was officially crazy, but I was excited to be near them again. Greg would keep Dawson in Austin because the special education program was so much better there, while I would concentrate on keeping Sophia on track and healthy.
Greg and I would meet in Giddings, a little town between Cypress and Austin two and a half hours apart, to transfer Dawson from one parent to the other. We did it every other week for the next several years, and it worked well for us. Greg had really stepped up to the plate caring for Dawson since the divorce, and I appreciated the small break from Dawson’s day-to-day care.
Elaine was great with Dawson, and I learned to let the jealous feelings of Greg and her go. I actually began to really like and appreciate her as a person. Greg and I were getting along much better, and we started exchanging nice texts every now and then. During a Dawson exchange in Giddings one day, I casually asked him how things were going with Elaine.
“It’s fine, she is really good with Dawson,” he said, in a tone that gave me the feeling things were not fine, and I had to admit I sort of liked it that way. Even though Greg and I had our tough moments, not seeing eye to eye when it came to dealing with teenage daughters and other stressful events with our children over the years, I still missed and loved him. I just didn’t let it take over my emotions anymore, a huge step in the right direction. I could see him in person now, and the longing to have him back was easier to deal with. It was a small victory for me, and I started to feel myself get stronger each day and without a man being the one to do it for me.
Rounding Home: A Memoir of Love, Betrayal, Heartbreak, and Hope with an Intimate Look into Raising a Child with Severe Autism Page 16