Leaving The War Zone: A Battered Mothers Memoirs For her Daughter

CHAPTER 7 – The Witch’s Hat


The Witch’s Hat

This past few weeks have been pretty good. I usually get very sad when summer ends. The pool, the heat. This has been one of the absolute hottest summers I can ever recall in my 46 years. Triple digits were the normal. On Labor Day, my window AC went out. So the following week I stayed in the pool. Stayed cool. I love the solitude of being out in the country. The quiet, the peace. My raw nerves – turned inside out this past two decades have taken such a toll on me. The stress, the emotional pain has shown its self through physical outlets.

During the summer, the memories of being in the pool with my daughter, growing up in a pool myself, and the memories’ of my mother. Memories suck. Their were so many bad ones. So much suffering. The torture camps not unlike those of the concentration camps, the fear, the 24-7 fear.

The beatings were almost like a release. A Release of that constant fear. As then for a a day, maybe two. All was quiet. Constant chaos soon followed.

Present day, in healing from trauma, sometimes one simply cannot recall all the ‘things’ that happened. The mind works like that. It takes care of us. So when trauma is enduring to survive within the mind, you block that ‘trauma’ out. This is a normal thing, a healthy thing and one that is built in to our human composition, of coping adapting and evolving.

The thing is, with the blocking of all that bad – went the few precious moments we had, Rikki and I. With even thinking about her, the pain of her loss the pain of the past ‘constant’ 14 years of court litigation (Continued abuse, torment) I have had to put her few pictures away. This past year I have slowly began to convert the old VHS tapes into digital and DVD. I have for all these years been unable to look at them. The pain immense. Even in her photographs, complete strangers could even see in her once very happy , dancing sparkling eyes disappear. Each years school photo they diminished until finally the light was gone altogether.

The only photos I was allowed to have, from kindergarten through 6th grade. In them alone shows the years of agony she suffered. SCAN PHOTOS HERE Each year, her eyes were darker, until finally the light in them was completely gone. So in order to survive, I have had to put those photos away, in a scrap book. Again, at the loss the helplessness and agony of my baby girl who was robbed of everything, especially her mother. A childhood of fear, loss and torment. Destined to follow her through adulthood.

The good memories are precious few, those years were as well stolen, tainted with the ever ending struggle of court abuse, but we were together and we made those few times good. It is no wonder that when the bad is blocked the good as well because they are all attached to the torment our human rights, we had none. We still do not.

But this year, as I was packing up my summer clothes, preparing for winter, thankful in fact as the summer damn near killed me. To hot even for hell. I was going through what few things remain from my life. Not much. A few old boxes. It was sorta like a treasure hunt, I saw of course things that reminded me of all the bad, things of my baby girl that I have promised to preserve for her. A gentle smile crossed my face.

Then just out of nowhere a Witch’s hat. My hat. Then I recalled the most wonderful of all memories. Halloween. Fall, the entire month was always ours. That was the only one thing that was consistent, one thing that did not come with pain inflicted by the abuser himself or his court whore proxy’s.

No one wanted that day, Halloween, not like every other holiday, even mother’s day we were robbed of all. Dad always got her every single holiday. As he was the non custodial parent, I just the evil bitch mom who wanted to set herself and her daughter free of torture. But, Halloween….. became ours. We celebrated the fall the holiday throughout the month. We decorated beginning with fall and working into the Halloween spirit. On this day, we could be anything we wanted. This day was always a ‘safe’ day for us. Nothing bad ever happened. It was ours, it was special and we had so much fun.

Every year we would add more to our ‘holiday’ boxes - cool Halloween decorations themes. We had an entire 12 x 15 ft. room filled with storage boxes of nothing but fall and Halloween decorations. Throughout these last 13 true hell years, those were all but lost a little at a time, then a lot. Until about 3 years ago, when I stopped seeing anything. As I did not put them up. Eventually, it left my mind as well. Once again, Those precious few good memories attached to the bad.

But this witch’s hat, out of nowhere - in what few things are left at all, (not even enough to fill a 10 x 10 ft room) this hat was ‘just’ there. Instantly I had a very comforting feeling, placed it on my head and continued to go through seeking winter clothing, packing summer clothing. Not really thinking about it nor the significance of the hat - just that all was well, like it had always been there. Just a nice feeling, a feeling odd to me, comfortable somehow ‘connected’ in a life long ago forgotten. The hat has been with me every day since, not consciously aware that, I kept it nor that it is always close to me.

But as the days began to pass I realized that it was in my car, on the couch,- kinda like with your keys and billfold. The peacefulness of fall all around, the critters all doing their scurrying around, the trees with the ever so slight sound of the old tired leaves scorched from the summer also awaiting the first freeze, before they turn the most vibrant of all colors - fall colors. The winds slightly beginning to shift. Yes the world, the seasons, Mother Nature. So very beautiful. So with all this and preparing my little house for winter, cleaning rearranging, feeling alive, being creative, thinking about absolutely nothing. There sits this witch’s hat.

About a week later, actually just a few days ago - the movie ‘twister’ came on TV late I just happened to be up the with the rain storms this week, they have gone from muggy hot to the classic fall cool. Rikki’s absolute number one favorite movie back then in the late 90’s was “Twister”. As I watched it I was thinking about how granny had dubbed her soaps over Rikki’s twister tape, and Rikki in tears said “granny, you taped your soaps on my twister tape’ – she was heartbroken. Lmao  - So was Granny, bless her heart, she was able to get not one but several more tapes of “Twister”. Yes that was a good memory. J

Still the witch’s hat, sits near. I see it has a purple feather and purple stone. Then, I recall why I bought that particular witch’s hat, its purple for the color of anti domestic violence. Even way back then as new a survivor, that purple was sacred. So now I have not only the memory of the Halloween but the subtle deeper meanings coming through as well. I survived, my daughter was safe. (back then – late 90’s) But, Still all is well. These memories are without any fear or pain. They just feel good. Atop my aching heart as I grieve the loss of my child. And at this point all resources long ago depleted to keep that special connection with her. It died when my mother died. The courts and daddy made sure that we never spoke again, nothing. Just gone. Like my mom. But in a more brutal way. You see I know my mom is with Jesus, Rikki however is with pure evil. Brutal does not come close.

Then the following day, the movie ‘Hocus Pocus’ came on…. Then it was more freeking awesomeness…!! To go along with the rest our ‘safe’ zone of Halloween of course our favorite Halloween movies!! All Disney of course, Rikki was not in school yet and she was legally kidnapped by the age of 7.She began kindergarten in the house of hell, and without her mother. He killed her soul then, a thousand deaths she went through. I was not allowed to be anywhere near her, not allowed to comfort her, to just hold her. L It was several year before I was even allowed to see her ‘supervised’ and then we could not hug we could not talk about what happened, we could not talk about hope, the future, we could not talk about our past out home our life, only what Rikki was currently doing with daddy dearest. Her sadness poured out of every pore her entire body eminated a pain that would knock the wind out of any ‘real’ human.


With “Hocus Pocus”, I watched it, loved it, and with warm memories of Rikki (before dad stole her). Then came the movie ‘Halloweentown’ omg. This was absolutely number one favorite for our ‘safe zone’ time. There were two. HalloweenTown and HalloweenTown 2. As I watched them, a flood of so many wonderful memories opened up.

Like I had opened up the door and let the fresh air in, these movies, inspired by the witch’s hat were the answer. If I can get to Rikki these movies especially HalloweenTown, deep inside her blocked off heart - a door will open for her too. I somehow know this with every fiber of my being.

I have time. My main goal is for her to just ‘watch’ them. I have began to rip and burn them for myself, but I want Rikki to ‘watch’ them. So I will buy them and have them sent to her. Not from me of course and hope they still make it into her DVD player- just movies packaged and sealed, nothing mom could have ‘sneaked’ in. Nothing from ‘mom’ so perhaps she will one day watch it. Directly to her from Amazon maybe.

My hopes are that now – perhaps I can begin to write to you. As I said before, it just hurts to bad to the point of panic, anxiety, chest pains and inability to breath. Avoid pain. That’s what we do naturally. And although it pains my heart now as I write this, it is not debilitating, it is welcome, and it just feels right. Like everything else around me - and busy it is – fall. The power of higher than anything else - that special power of Mother Nature. God’s creations and the ‘ultimate justice’. Just wait - the leaves have not even begun to change yet and I plan on doing every fall Halloween activity I can, the healing has finally begun. I guess, it is just time.

The witch’s hat made me feel good. LoL as I look at it now. It sits kinda like the witch hat in harry potter, bent over at middle, old and knowing just comfortable. I smile. I love you my daughter my dearest sweet Rikki.

Just believe what the heck - you ain’t got nothing to loose, I sure do not, plus - it just feels good. I do not know where I will be from one day to the next or even if I will be. Weather this will be the first day of the rest of my life or the last day - it will be the best day I can make it.

Of all that I have done, wished to have done – MOTHER was and is the BEST Blessing, the truest love, the Laws of Nature and everything that I had never dreamed of- but what I wanted more than anything.


Parental Alienation Syndrome (PAS) is a Scam Crackpot Logic


Parental Alienation Syndrome (PAS) is a Scam

Crackpot Logic

"Here is how crackpottery works in real life: let's say I am a crackpot and I have invented a miracle cure for the common cold. My magic cure is to shake a dried gourd over the cold victim until he is all better.

If I shake the dried gourd long enough, the victim's cold will get better. My miracle cure always works, it is 100% effective, it is extremely reliable. I deserve recognition for my medical breakthrough. Anyone who wants to dispute myclaim prove that it doesn't work — that all those people who got better, didn't get better.

"The crackpot's logic is perfect, and perfectly loony. "Crackpots come in many varieties, but they all have one trait in common -- they don't understand how science works." -- Paul Lutus

Parental Alienation Syndrome/Disorder, Shared Parenting, Co-parenting, Fathers Rights, Fatherhood exaltation, Children need both parents, DSM-5, False Abuse Allegations, women lie, children lie, daddy is always perfect no matter what.

Therapeutic Jurisprudence, Guardian Ad Litems, Custody Evaluators, Parenting Coordinators, Mental Health Experts, Sexual Abuse Prevention (SAPA) Reintegration therapy, shock therapy, false memory syndrome, Draptomania, Family Court Judges, Best Interest Child, Co-parenting therapy, Borderline, mommy caused daddy’s bad behavior, that lying bitch should never have left she and her children are owned.

Psychiatry is a theory, not fact not science. Just a court appointed pocket money lining industry.

Amy J. Baker and Parental Alienation: Behind the Veil of Ignorance

The Ever Expanding Parental Alienation Theory: Amy J. Baker's Research Revisited


A Collaboration Of disease mongering

“Disease mongering” is the effort to enlarge the market for a treatment by convincing people that they are sick and need medical intervention [2]. Typically, the disease is vague, with nonspecific symptoms spanning a broad spectrum of severity—from everyday experiences many people would not even call “symptoms,” to profound suffering. The market for treatment gets enlarged in two ways: by narrowing the definition of health so normal experiences get labeled as pathologic, and by expanding the definition of disease to include earlier, milder, and pre-symptomatic forms (e.g., regarding a risk factor such as high cholesterol as a disease in itself).



The Manufacture of Madness: Psychiatry Is Social Control Used Against Non Conformists.



  • Dr Thomas Szasz died aged 92, an indefatigable critic of conventional psychiatry, that it offended human dignity infringed rights of the individual.

“A damning indictment of the psychologizing – and undermining – of the American legal system. With righteous wrath and devastating wit, this sweeping critique should stir national debate.”

Whores Of The Court

Margaret Hagen, Ph.D, reveals how expert psychological testimony is a total fraud, showing how the courts have increasingly embraced not a cutting-edge science but, instead, a discipline that represents a terrifying retreat into fantasy and hearsay; a discipline propelled by powerful propaganda, arrogance, and greed.

Dr. Hagen sounds a clarion wake-up call, offering some startling – and much-needed – recommendations about how we can reclaim our own ability to judge and supplying vital advice on how we can protect ourselves from the ravages of psychological testimony in our own lives.