“I Don’t Care What Happens To You. Restraining Order Blues.”

Obviously I didn’t write yesterday because I was at my sister’s (biologically my aunt) house last night for Halloween. She made chili, and I went over a little early and made some cornbread and a fancy chocolate refrigerator pie for dessert. One of her kids dressed up this year, he was a plague doctor. He was wearing a long black robe and he had on the mask that they wore. He seemed to enjoy answering the door and freaking out little kids with his costume. He started answering the door, not saying a word and just handing them a candy baggy and shutting the door. He was being such a little creeper.

So, anyway, continuing with the story.

After I had received that letter from my birth mother I found myself becoming even more reclusive that I already had been. I was afraid that wherever I went, I ran the risk of running into someone I didn’t want to actually see. Whether it was my grandparents or my birth mother. There was also another great fear that I started to feel creeping into my consciousness.

My grandparents have my address, so my birth mother could have my address.

The moment I came to this realization, I felt my stomach dart up into my throat. My first thought was “my god, what if she is off her medication and she tracks me down?” or “what if she figures out where I’m working?” After this realization, I stayed around my immediate area. I started avoiding places that I knew would be regular spots for that side of the family go to. Knowing that they wouldn’t have a reason to go to my side of town, I just stayed here.

And then I had an idea, maybe I could use the prior messages from her and get some sort of restraining order. I went online and I filled out all of the necessary paperwork. Being certain that I made it clear that my birth mother is verbally abusive, unstable, and untrustworthy in her actions and decision making. I knew where she lived so I made sure to enter in the address, so if the order was accepted they could deliver the paperwork.

I figured if a police officer delivered restraining order papers to the house, maybe my grandparents would realize that she is obviously unstable and I was serious about my desire for no contact.

The day came for the meeting with the judge. I showed up early to my appointment time. I had never been so nervous about something in my life. Never in my life had I been to the courthouse for an actual legal reason. At the time my husband was working in Washington and he was staying up there during the week so he didn’t have to commute everyday. Since he was out of town working, I had to go by myself.

For some reason I had it in my head that I was going to be lead into a full courtroom, maybe even camera’s would be there. I’d walk into the courtroom and The People’s Court theme song would start playing in the background. The drama of the situation was making my mind race and manifest crazy ideas.

Instead I was lead into a fairly good sized office, the judge was sitting at his desk. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked me to explain my situation. He told me that unfortunately the evidence I had against her, and the fact that she hasn’t shown up on my porch, they wouldn’t be able to grant me the restraining order. Two harassing e-mails, and me saying that she is mentally ill and unstable wasn’t enough evidence. He told me that if she continued to harass me, or if she showed up I would need to call the police. At that point I would be able to refile the restraining order.

Oh, great, gotta wait for her to show up on my doorstep before they’ll protect me. Wonderful.

I didn’t realize that it was so difficult to get a restraining order against a blood relative. It’s really unfortunate that this is the case because sometimes, family are just as dangerous as a friend or stranger.

When they finally left Oregon, I felt such a weight taken off of my shoulders. The weight of everything they were doing was pushing me down so hard that I was completely blind to what it was actually doing to me.

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