to tell the truth

Date: Friday, September 7, 2007 at 1:35 AM
To: Brian Goldfarb <>
Subject: to tell the truth

Here’s one of those moments where I’m sad and vulnerable. I want to thrash myself, and thought like “I suck” come to mind. I say no wonder why I’m not wanted. I’m a disappointment to everyone I try to love.

I’m sad and I miss my dad. I see you talk to your parents and wonder what it would be like to have that. I believe my dad would love me regardless… I know he’d be disappointed in me, but he’d let me come and cry in his arms. He’d pat my head and tell me everything would be alright. He’d let me call and tell him how my heart hurts even in the middle of the night.

They say I was daddy’s girl.

Nibbles, Nibbles


you know i haven’t been proud of how i’ve been feeling lately. so lost, so desparate, so angry, so abandoned, so unloved. most of all i haven’t been proud of how felt like it wasn’t worth living if brian had given up on me. on us.

but the end of that last post shocks me. i can’t believe what i wrote. sure, janice takes the week of the week i have something to start talking about! it made me think of how much no one really knows. of the fear i used to live with. how i used to hate that there weren’t any bruises. it wasn’t bad enough for anyone to help, but enough to destroy me. i’ve known for a long time that justin reminded me of brad. that attitude.

i feel like it’s the worst idea to write this, but i wish that i could have vengence. i couldn’t comprehend what was going on then, but i can now. why did i shrink back in fear? i could have stopped it. i could have destroyed him. and it’s funny, what brad did to me doesn’t seem as bad. i’d prefer that to what justin did. brad only did that to me once.

i guess i don’t spend alot of time thinking back (haha, i just broke from my tears that were about to start when i realized that brian hates when people write “a lot” as “alot”. god i love him. i’ve tried so hard to fix that error after he casually mentioned it once!)

what was my point? i guess that i don’t spend a lot [sic] of time thinking back because it’s so bad. it’s a nightmare i lived. but i don’t know that i learned a grander lesson from it. sure i don’t think i’ll ever let a guy threaten me physically anymore, but that’s not because i hit back, it’s because i won’t get into that situation. i’ll walk away. fact is i’m scared shitless of being fucked up by some guy. of finally getting the shit kicked out of me the way i’ve always feared. but you can’t always protect yourself from getting into the situation. i could get mugged, and i guess i would just let it happen. i think that’s different, but still. point is, i walked right into this mess thinking i was safe. and when it came down to it i just let it happen to me. i’m just like my mother. i remember her telling me when i was young that she just let it happen because it was easy than fighting back and arguing with her brother over whether or not his friend just raped her. i’m not better than my mother.

i think i might find a self defense class. but what i really want is the ability to devastate some mans ability to ever think of having children the next time someone comes anywhere near crossing the line. i fucking dare them. but see that’s just how it works. you have to be sure he’s warranted it, because you can’t take it back. it reminds me of what my dad told matthew once when matt was pissed. he said “hit me. but make it count, kid. you’d better lay me out because you only have one shot.” i imagine that’s the gist of it. that’s why i never fought back.

i remember one night putting a knife under my side of the bed. brad found it. that’s the night the gouge was put in the kitchen wall. i held to the knife with all my might because i knew at that point it was a stupid idea because now i was fucked. he pinned me to the wall (why do i still remember so vividly the colors of those walls?) and kept smashing my wrist against the wall. i remember being afraid on two accounts then… not only what he’d do to me after he got it free from my hand, but also that it would fall to my feet and i wasn’t wearing shoes, and there was alot of skin along the way. i don’t remember the end of the story. i probably begged. i don’t know. i think that was the same night that i had written the poem below.

truth be told, i don’t want to work through this shit, i just want to be protected and forgiven. i don’t want to turn these stories over in my head, analyze them, look for flaws in my behaviors, figure out what caused what, and all that. it’s a life i can’t even picture as being mine. and i lived it for four years. i just want to forget.

but i want to learn how to hurt a man. there is a movie i’ve always secretly liked. it’s with jennifer lopez and it’s called “enough”. and there is an older one with julia roberts called “sleeping with the enemy”, but that one didn’t strike me as much as enough did.

okay. i feel slightly better. i’m not raging inside. i’m exhausted. i think i’m taking a sleeping pill again tonight. olivia suggested sleeping on the couch… apparently that’s why i slept so well while my brother was here. apparently it’s because it feels like someone is sleeping beside you.

oh, and on that note, i’ll have to note that for all that brad did to me after i was rid of him the hardest thing to do was to sleep alone. i guess that is what i’m going through again. at least i’m not my mother. she knew that he was never coming back.

i’m so tired.

October 1999, Lest it should be forgotten.

I sit here in the dark. I feel pretty much nothing inside.
You are in a better place, but without me.
I don’t know what to say or do.
I can’t leave because you won’t let me live without you.

Death is not an option until Life is a reality. How can you die until you’ve lived?
I wonder if I will be here, and it’ll all be the same, many years from now.
I wonder if we’ll get a divorce and move on apart from each other.

I really can’t see a future, can you?
I can’t see one day when we’ll have kids.
I can’t see one day when our brothers and sisters return.
I can’t see one day when the sun shines on us together.
I can’t see one day when you dance with me.
I can’t see one day when our children are born.
I can’t see one day when they grow up.
I can’t see one day when someone else’s life continues becomes more important than our own.
I can’t see one day when you smile lovingly down at my face.
I can’t see one day when my dad is alive.
I can’t see one day when we live.
I can’t see one day when we live forever.

I don’t want it to be like this. But there seems to be a problem bigger than us.
But, you can’t fix a something that isn’t broken.
And you don’t think that there’s anything broken.

How do you love someone who isn’t themselves?
How do you love someone who isn’t alive?
How do you love someone who doesn’t notice?
How do you love someone who doesn’t reply?
I want to believe in us, but there doesn’t seem much to believe in.
I want to believe in God, but noone seems to be out there.
I want to believe in love, but there is only hate.
I want to believe in you, but you don’t seem to care.

What ever happened to when we used to talk, together?
What ever happened to when we used to cry, together?
What ever happened to when we used to laugh, together?
What ever happened to when we used to work, together?

I try so hard to look forward.
But to what?
I try not to look back,
but you do.

More and more we gain, less and less we have.
Other people envy us.
They think we’re so great.
How they would love to have someone like us,
and to love and to take.
But if only they really knew,
if only they cared.
But no one bothers,
no one dares.

Who wants to admit that something is broken,
Who wants to admit a three-cord bond that is torn?
Who wants to help when evil befalls us,
who wants to carry us thru the storm?
But up to us it is, to make it thru.
Up to us it is, to practice the things we should do.

But so far away the days seems to fade.
So far away when it all seemed so clear.
So here I sit, and there you are.
At the meeting, so close but so far.

What does it take to feel again?
What does it take to live again?
What does it take to avoid death at the end?
This letter, like all, it must end.

Do you fear death, my love, losing my life?
Do you fear the pain in my Mom’s eyes?
Do you fear answering to why I wasn’t happy?
Do you fear trying to pretend it hasn’t happened?

One day I will be gone.
One day you won’t notice.
One day I will be gone.
And no one will notice.

You’ve lost me so far.
They’ve all lost me so far.

They say when God seems far away
you should guess who moved.
I guess I’ve moved, and he doesn’t know my forwarding address.
A friend who doesn’t write,
but cares all the same?

Why doesn’t someone stop me,
from this life that I live?
Why doesn’t someone love me,
from this hate that I give?
When does it all end?

I picture my head, my hair a mess and bloody…
you accidently pushed too hard, and I hit it on the corner of the bed.

I picture my baby, laying in the toilet.
You pushed too hard, and hurt my stomach.

I think it’s better this way.
That I die so others may live.

Don’t worry I won’t kill myself,
I have someone else to do that for me.

Nibbles, Nibbles


you are my best friend, and you always want to be my best friend

as my best friend you love me and want the best for me, for me to be healthy and safe

your finest moments in loving me are in my worst moments of living where you demonstrate just that. you put yourself and your heart and your feelings aside to care for me, to take care of me, to help me heal, so that i may one day become a secure and confident woman as i remember being as a little girl.

this all feels fantastic. this feels like what love should be. i don’t know what love is, but if it isn’t that, what else is there?

then i am sad.

this is my messed up logic.

what point is there in becoming that amazing me that you and and i believe in, if it isn’t for you? why would you invest so much in me and treasure the outcome? why would you love me so much and not love me?

there are many things i don’t understand. this is the one that overshadows me every day, and has since the spring.

all my logic can do is to say that you don’t love me in that way. but i don’t know what it is that would be missing so that could possibly be true. we connect by just looking into each others eyes when we lay our heads down beside each other. we connect in the most intimate of movements and motion.

so when i lose my sense of self and i say over and over “i don’t understand”, maybe you can at least understand what i mean.

i’m just emailing. i don’t want responses. i just want to share. i want to send the thoughts from the deepest depths of exploring my heart and soul out there into the world to the only one i put faith in.

if we aren’t lovers at least being friends can really mean something.

if i can’t be loved, i just want to be understood.

i was content today when you guys came to see eilon’s house. you seemed happy and i was happy. at little sad, but happy. that made me happy. to see you at ease, relaxed.


my space plus some, ok a lot

From: <>
Date: Wednesday, February 7, 2007 at 11:59 PM
To: Angela Baxley <>
Subject: Re: my space plus some, ok a lot

hey got your note and forwarded it to Vanessa. Thanks.

Love the family pics.  The last time I saw your mom and dad was in 1994? and I think that was probably the last time I saw Matthew, Heather and Erin to.  I still find it strange to call him your dad since I can actually remember knowing your dad.

Do you remember much of your dad?  My guess would be more from stories than experiences, though I have no idea of course.  Have you ever seen the picture of your dad holding me on his shoulders and we’re pointing toward the sky.  I remember that day.  Everyone was at our house in Van Wert for BBQ and a storm came rolling in and the clouds were moving really fast and that’s what we were looking at in the picture. Its funny the things we remember I can almost remember the conversation, that is to say I can remember hearing them talking to each other and to me.  I do remember a bit it was about the storm and the way the wind and clouds were that day.  I remember coming down from his shoulders to, mostly the way it felt.  Funny the things we remember.  I like that memory.

I remember another time at your house in Ft Wayne when I asked about a string art picture they had on the wall. It was a boat I think, a sailboat.  I remember looking at it on a table and seeing how the strings were pulled tight around little nails and formed into the picture.  I think you were looking at it to, do you remember that?  Then I think for some reason we were in a hurry to get somewhere. We walked out the back door and it was dark out. That’s it nothing else on that one.  Except that at sometime you and Heather took a bath.

I also remember when they told me he had been in an accident. I was worried.  Then I was angry when he died. Not because he died really but because he may not have had to. I remember grandma Schaadt was really angry over it to.  I don’t remember who told me but I remember exactly what they said.  I think grandma and grandpa still have that motorcycle.

Every time I see a picture of John Lennon with a beard I think of your dad.

Sorry if any of this brings up a bad memory or makes you sad.  I just thought you’d like to know and hear something about your dad you may not have known or heard before.

I love you,


P. S. – I know this probably sounds really wrong, so take it for the meaning and not the sound, if you weren’t my cousin you’d definitely be on the “hotty” list. I think you’re really doing great and I envy you a lot for getting to travel so much and to have disposable income, what a new concept. I’m really happy for you. can’t wait to see you.


Sure I do! :)

On 9/30/99, 5:14 AM, “angela.benson” <> wrote:

    To: elmojo <>


    Subject: Re: Sure I do! 🙂

    What that thingy at the bottom?

    Well we’ve talked, but he’s heavily influenced by his mother. I found the

    lyrics to his music, and together with the Awake magizine have found out a

    major problem. The music has blocked the holy spirit from us and our house. I

    got rid of it (sent it up to him) yesterday. Last night I was able to say a

    prayer. It was coherent, focused, and not interrupted by thoughts. Before last

    night, I wasn’t able to and really had stopped for a long time trying.

    I slept on my tummy stretched out on the bed (gotta take advantage of it while

    I can!). My back was unprotected to the “world”. But I didn’t feel vulnerable,

    or worried. I slept with a smile on my face, and feel asleep at a reasonable


    The music is our problem, just the catalyst. It doesn’t matter how hard we

    would try to fix anything without the holy spirit (and add to it the negative

    influence and views of the music) we couldn’t get anywhere.

    So now. THis morning he called, and told me he was going this weekend to get

    his drum set. I told him he couldn’t do that until he had seperation papers

    written up. (His car and drum set are the only things holding him to the

    marriage materially.) So he basically can’t do that (he doesn’t have any

    money). He also wanted the old furniture to take with him. (It’s all mine,

    gifts from co-workers, etc.) I told him he’d have to pay me what we were going

    to sell it for. ($150) OR

    The deal. (a.k.a. The Challenge)

    He comes down, stays in the house, and goes to work, the meetings and service.

    Two weeks. If in two weeks he’s ready to leave, I get the papers, give him the

    furniture, and help him load the truck. And he can say he tried.

    I put faith in Jehovah that that music is like the Awake said, that

    influencial, and by removing that variable from our relationship, coupled with

    his taking the St. John’s Wort & Magnesium, and an open mind, we have a

    fighting chance. All it takes is Jehovah’s holy spirit flowing again.

    Anyways, there goes… write me back, and tell me what you think. I’m offended

    by the Teddy Bear thing. I needed it, but I don’t anymore!


    elmojo <> on 09/29/99 09:23:01 AM

    Please respond to elmojo <>

    To: Angela M. Benson/USA/BAC@NATIONSBANK


    Subject: Sure I do! 🙂


    I wasn’t able to check my email since sunday night.  Julie says I can’t give

    you the bear, she has claimed it for her own!  You know, the old ‘what’s

    mine is yours and yours is mine’ thing.  I can’t blame her though, it is

    awefully cute!

    So, what’s the news?  Fill me in… COMEON!!

    Gotta split, keep strong!

    Luv ya!




    Get Your Private, Free Email at


Guess what!

On 9/30/99, 5:13 AM,”angela.benson” <> wrote:


    Subject: Guess what!

    I told you last night how I collected Brads music (on Monday night) together

    and shipped it out to him yesterday. What I didn’t know was how big of a

    difference it would make.

    Gregg, I prayed and prayed, the four nights I stayed there by myself. I

    couldn’t seem to keep my concentration or focus to be able to finish a prayer

    at a time though. I kept feeling uncomfortable in a “I need to get over it”

    way. I thought I was just afraid of being alone there at night. I went to sleep

    when I was thoroughly exhausted.

    Last night I didn’t have any feeling of paranoia. I stretched out comfortably,

    and didn’t worry about which direction my back was facing, or feeling

    “vulnerable”. I said my prayer, it was complete, focused and made sense. I fell

    asleep with a smile on my face. The house settling noises were still there, but

    they didn’t make me jump, or my heart pound out of my chest.

    I don’t care what anyone else thinks. There is a difference, and there’s only

    one thing missing from that one night to the next. It even “screwed up” my

    prayers. It wasn’t exhaustion either. If I was exhausted, I couldn’t have

    prayed better than all the other nights. It only took one prayer, and it made

    sense, with a beginning, body, and end, without interruptions.

    I wish that there was some way to convey the peace that I felt, how comfortable

    I was able to feel to Brad. It’s a big deal that I slept on my tummy. I left my

    back open to the world. Even when Brad was there I would sleep with my back to

    him, and until he came to bed not be able to sleep.

    I used to pray ALL THE TIME. Once when I was working with my pioneer partner I

    had asked her, how often do you pray? (Thinking of the scripture, you know the

    one, when you lay down, get up….) She said all day. That’s when I started

    having conversations with Jehovah.

    Anyways, I just talked to Brad. He called to tell me that he’s coming this

    weekend to pick up his drum set. To me that’s an indication of separation. I

    told him he would need to bring papers with him, because I couldn’t allow him

    to take that (for that reason) with out it being “legal”. He also asked to have

    the old furniture (it’s mostly all mine). I told him that with the situation

    that I am left in I need the money from it, whether its him or anyone else,

    because as he said this isn’t about love anymore.

    Then I proposed a deal.

    The hard way: just as I told him- separation papers for him to pick up his drum

    set, pay for the furniture if he wants it, and it’s over.

    The easy way: since he’s coming anyways, stay for two weeks. Go to work, the

    meetings, service, and family bible study. No music (he’ll leave with his mom),

    pornography, and his has to take his St. John’s Wort & Magnesium (and before he

    gets here so it kicks in). Have an open mind. He doesn’t have to talk to me,

    sleep in our room, or even touch me. (Hopefully he will give it an open mind so

    he will stick around the house for us to interact.) If in two weeks he ready to

    leave again I will give him the furniture, I’ll get the papers, and I’ll even

    help him load the U-Haul truck. And he case say “I gave it a fair shot”.

    What do you think? If he needs to talk to someone to discuss whether he should

    or not, would you (instead of Pam)? And if he decides to take the easy way,

    will you talk to him to get him in the right frame of mind when he gets here?

    I’m not planning an attack, just allowing Jehovah’s holy spirit to do it’s

    work, with the right actions in place.

    Please write back. And thank you very much for talking to me last night.



From your loving wife…

From: “Angela M. Benson” <>
Date: Tuesday, September 28, 1999 at 6:11 PM
To: Gregg Benson <>
Subject: Fw: From your loving wife…

This was a night where it was bad. I wrote this sitting in the dark. I put the knife under my bed this night. I thought he would try to kill me (inadvertently) after he found out what I wrote and told his mom. I told her everything. He didn’t have anything to worry about. She told me I was the problem. That I needed help. I don’t remember what happened. But it was like the rest of them.