"You can fuck all my deputies," laughing he said after getting nasty. No one will bother you there then. He was referring up to our Lakehouse. He was asking me out, but then he got more and more sexually aggressive when I thanked him at first for asking me out, but then he started in about other Sheriffs. "You and I could have a lot of fun," he went on. I didn't want to make him angry, I had just started staying at the Lakehouse and they had been called as soon as I got there. I was also told to make sure to see the Fulton County Judge and make sure my ex wasn't going to bother me there too, but this was another game.
The Judge, a vicious man gave my ex a whole hour to talk before letting me into the courtroom. My ex left with his lawyer and I had no lawyer once again because I could not get access to any money and my good credit had just been destroyed, another game city court had played with officers that told me he didn't have to give me the $100 he agreed to. All the money had been put into his account over the years. He wrote checks for our bills and I gave him all my money save for $100 a week for our groceries, everything else either went for the mortgages or furniture, appliances and projects for the properties, even the tax refund every year went into his account for "projects!" "You're married," they would all say whenever I questioned any of this. They all had lawyers involved, but I was to learn none of them worked for me only for my ex and my inlaws. I was to see the horrible control that I had sensed all along but didn't know what it was. The Economic Abuse that I could not name kept me constantly in the wrong, poor and groveling to understand. Coercive Control gave a name to this horrible type of deadly abuse and the Gaslighting kept it all going and left me unable to defend myself from any of these people.
I filled out the long questionnaire about what was going on to appear in court. I was living at the Lakehouse after being violently thrown out on the street from our home. I was threatened I would be "disappeared," and my dog Bentley would be used as a "Bait dog!" He waved the questionnaire in front of me and told me in no uncertain terms if "your own mother doesn't like you, it must be you!" I sat stunned once again as he went on to say he would have to call the Judge involved in the ongoing divorce and that if my "MIL and her sister wanted to leave me something they would have!" I had taken care of both of them for over 20yrs, with that he threw the forms in what looked like a garbage can and I was told to practically get out by the deputy at the door.
I stumbled out once again in shock. As I waited to first see the Judge, I saw the lying Public defender from the City court involved from the start get into what looked like his new SUV. I noticed because I had just thought it would be nice to get an SUV if I got my car back after cops took it. I wanted a black Nissan SUV and it looked similar. I had posted it on Twitter about my idea and at the time he had an old gray car. I wondered why he was there at the same time I was. I was seeing him at every court appearance I attended—it all seemed suspect. Everything that I had was being destroyed and stolen, while dreams I had talked about others were now enjoying. The business I had just launched was also a business my cousin had just started also, while all my Portfolios, computer equipment, and Artwork were being threatened to be auctioned off.
"Intelligence from Amsterdam Police Department says your a noted Prostitute," the Sheriff said. Oh my God I said, that's not true. He was at first more concerned with how cool my dog Bentley was. One bark to warn me then he got quiet. Bentley was trained in ways that most dogs aren't. I wasn't sure what it was called, but he was everything to me since this all started. One night, I almost froze to death and it was Bentley that saved my life. I could not believe how indispensable he had become, not only as a companion but in terms of survival he was shaping up to be not a guard dog, but he had some cool gifts that were keeping me alive—the Corporal seemed impressed. He kept wanting to put him in his carry bag, but I kept asking why I had to leave. They had pretty much let themselves in remarking that I had it pretty secure but of course when you're given the key it's easy. He never said they were given the key, but pretended they pushed in the screen door and somehow picked the outside sliding glass door. I had asked for the key, my ex had stolen mine. He refused to give it back and I once again had no place to live. He wanted to make it seem that the Lakehouse was his "personal property," I was to learn later. It was another one of the many lies he told.
As I looked around the Lakehouse it was obvious my ex wasted no time making it look pretty bad as if no one had been there in a long time. The shrubs I lovingly tended as young plants were destroyed and the lawn had not been cut in a while. I could finally see that after all these years there was a driveway. I had always been told I had to park down below, but now as the grass was all grown there was a nice driveway. I had sensed all those years ago, the neighbor on the other side watched me all the time lug everything into the camp from down below, while he and his wife parked right next to their camp. I would come to see lots of the little horrible games these people had played over the years.
The decor was awful; cheap, kitsch everywhere—I hated kitsch. He had threatened to throw everything away and it looked like he did. It resembled the decor when we first bought it 20yrs ago. His Aunt liked the kind of decor that was now on the walls; cheap Art from traveling that you get at those Tourist trap places. I had some idea his new girlfriend had been going through my clothes, stealing and breaking things long before he took the key from me and locked me out. Long before he convinced a corrupt Judge it had been his "personal property," which was another outright lie.
After calling me a Prostitute and complaining about Bentley the neighbors had called the State Police. In all the years I had been here I had put up with their disrespect and here I was in a desperate situation and they were lined up against me. Things were falling into place about all the lies I was told and up to Sacandaga Lake NY, it was no different. There were so many lies, it was hard to keep them all straight. I had asked when we first bought the place if the neighbor's sister went to SUNY New Paltz College. I had attended there and met this young woman who said after a few weeks in Art History that she had gotten pregnant and was going to drop out. I was pretty sure it was her that came to visit over the years, but they all just ignored me and my ex said he didn't think it was her. I had repeatedly tried to make friends in the beginning but was ignored.
I found out recently they all had been friends with neighbors by me in Amsterdam NY where we lived during the week. All these years I never had much more than a couple of words with these people and here they were doing this. I had thought of all the times I would just arrive, lug everything into the Lakehouse, cook and prepare lunch to sit outside and her husband would get out the riding mower to mow the lot they owned next door. Rocks would fly for the next 2hrs, often hitting me, but my ex always said that they were pretty good neighbors and it could be a lot worse and to ignore it.
All these years later I think of the nasty way they were and now know it was all on purpose—same as neighbors on the other side. Both had been retired before their kids started staying there and came all Summer. I came up on weekends and holidays and they always had "projects" planned to make sure it was always noisy on the weekends and other times I was there longer. Lawnmowers were always running and weed whackers were constant. The tractor the other neighbor had was usually out and on idle. I was constantly hit with rocks sun-tanning on the deck, but was always told "they weren't bad as far as neighbors go." I know today they were horrible disgusting people. I know today they are extremists that spent all these years as the real delusional ones and not me. I was not some slave or prostitute that my husband owned, but the rightful respected person that owned 1/2 the Lakehouse I had worked on religiously for 20yrs, paid taxes on and paid the mortgage on, and put up with their horrible abuse.
I remembered the very first time arriving here, invited by my ex's Aunt and Uncle. We drove up the manicured drive and I thought how beautiful it seemed. "The Hideaway," was just that. It was not visible from the road, but a mile down a long stretch of woods and a road that seemed to go nowhere but ended up cresting a hill that gave a scenic view of the Sacandaga Lake surrounded on each side by trees and a row of just 6 camps, off to the right directly facing the Lake. Back then we called them camps, as I put more and more money into it and we agreed to retire there, it became a Lake home as other larger places were being built on the Lake. These were no longer camps, but mansions that were more like houses than the traditional camp. The constant projects were ways to constantly make noise all under the guise of living there. Most of them lived there all Summer. We were there every weekend in the Summer and all the holidays, vacations and other times we had off. There was always work to do. There were always projects. We agreed it would be our goal to retire early and live there. We were there just about all 3 Seasons by the time my ex threw me out.
"It's easy to buy a place," my ex would say, "it's maintaining it!" He would go on and on then hand me some chore like the raking that had to be done. In the beginning, I would grumble a little after having worked all week, but I came to love the chores. Raking, gardening, decorating, making just about everything. Finding ways to DIY and be resourceful in the outdoors, especially saving money. Retiring early or basically for me not having to commute an hour away to work and working in an Art Studio at home or up to the lake was the dream. I got to work setting up my dream Art Studio with my easel and paints once it was decided we could buy it from his aunt. After the fighting subsided and the dust settled over me "making a big deal about finances," which is what they said, things quieted down. There were also lawyers involved that I was told everything was fine and set up for the married people we were. I was young, how could I continue to argue with that! Over the years, I struggled to understand how all the estates were combined. My MIL, her sister, and of course my inlaws were always involved, but whenever I asked it was always "everything is fine."
I wanted my name on the Lakehouse and other properties but I was told we were married and that was enough—we were "Mr and Mrs!" I was a modern woman after all with a career and couldn't understand why my name was not on the deed and other papers like the title and insurance, etc. When I asked a big fight ensued and my SIL refused to visit again. It started as a silly fight. I was telling her daughters to be careful of my new puppy. I didn't want my new puppy to puppy bite them and break their little skin, but shortly after everything was all set up with our new camp and our finances. I was told I needed to "talk to someone," and seemed to have problems. I was making a big deal out of everything and causing many unnecessary problems in my marriage.
Today I know it was to shut me down. I was to work on the camp all these years, fix it up, "serve" and give constant eldercare to my inlaws and be told when the divorce that was planned had started by the vicious Adlitem they forced on me that I had "done nothing," and everything belonged to my ex. That I was to go to a "Homeless Shelter," and that all "my personal belongings would be Auctioned off!"
I called the Sheriff's office again after the Judge told me he was dismissing me. I complained that I was not a Prostitute and this Corporal was accusing me of that and had been sexually harassing me. Telling me I could stay at my Lakehouse if I would "fuck a few of his deputies!" The call center hung up on me calling me a drunk and telling me if I was "drinking, could not file a report!" It was the same violence at home as I pleaded with a new lawyer I had hoped would help me, but hung up on me and just took my $5,000 and did nothing. I complained to the Bank, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they were also just helping my ex and were refusing to help me regardless of how many times I complained.
Art Studio at the Lakehouse, Sacandaga Lake NY
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