When Children Are Stolen Not Lost

"There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."

                                   -Madeleine Albright, 2006

The manipulation of children during or after a divorce is a serious form of post separation abuse often referred to as parental alienation or domestic violence by proxy.  An abusive ex partner will try to extend their control and punish the other parent by weaponizing the children.  And along this abusive emotional ride, they often incorporate others to assist in their brainwashing of the children.  

Telling the children false stories to convince them that the loving parent is dangerous, uncaring, or mentally unstable - well, that is just the beginning. Sometimes the abuser goes so far as create an entirely different reality with a new narrative, essentially brainwashing their own children into erasing memories and replacing them with what they are told.

Such an atrocity was inflicted on my two sons during my own divorce from an abusive man who was my husband for 20 years. If you don't believe in the manipulation and brainwashing of parental alienation, abuse by proxy, I am here to state an example that cannot be refuted.

Please bear with me as I begin with a little background here.

My ex-husband, Robert, began tormenting me with his version of a plot twist all the back in 1991 (I kept a journal).  At that point, we were already married over a decade and had two sons.  Robert told me that someday he was going to find a woman who needed him.  He further explained how it was best for him to have a much younger woman who "came from nothing", was uneducated, unworldly and would appreciate anything he threw her way.  He specially wanted a woman who was in his own word "desperate."  This abusive narcissist wanted to be worshipped.  And I did not fit this bill.  I was one year older than him, and although I obeyed (yes, or else there were consequences), I doted on our two sons.  I would never ever worship Robert Levine! Coming from a very financially comfortable family, I grew up with luxuries. So that was nothing new.

1991 was the first time I heard that threat. And it was not to be the last.  My sense of security as a mom was questioned as Robert loved to point to the younger women with stepchildren almost their own ages.  I reacted by withdrawing much of the time - realizing how very cruel this man was.  Knowing that he was more than capable of throwing me away like yesterday's garbage, I was never going to put him on the pedestal his narcissistic self required.  I was never going to worship him for beating the daylights out of me, locking me in bathrooms and closets, and controlling even the food I ate.  No, he would never be worshipped by me.

As the years proceeded, he would be chasing other women - younger women.  And I just tried to survive.  I knew about his secretary (young, came from less fortunate background, uneducated) who met his criteria.  Their relationship was confirmed by Robert's cousin as well as his brother-in-law.  There was also the Greek diner owner's daughter...and probable others I didn't know about.

Then came Janet.  I could look at it like she got my trash.  But that's not the entire story here.  She assisted in stealing my sons from my life.  Even after I begged for her assistance during my divorce.

Janet was Robert's sister's sister-in-law.  For many years throughout my marriage, she was present at family functions.  Janet had socialized with the Levine family for a decade.  She was much younger than me and I never really clicked with her to have a substantial conversation.  She was married to a man who openly cheated with his secretary (the entire family spoke of it).  All I heard for years was "poor Janet," as my mother-in-law would say of the many stories she was privy to regarding the Janet Pohl Torre saga.   My ex-husband's younger sister, Debbie, was married to Marc Pohl, who was Janet's brother.

Eventually, during our marriage, Robert announced he was bringing Janet food at night - from the family business, Foodirect, because she was struggling financially after her husband left her, periodically, alone with her son. So picture this, my ex-husband telling everyone in the family that he was doing a good deed by bringing this helpless woman food.  At night. Right.  And I have a bridge to sell you.

It was already into the year of 1997.  I had been forewarned years prior that Robert was seeking the perfect replacement of me.  The domestic violence kept escalating as he tried to push me out of my marriage, sometimes also threatening me with death. 

As I came more and more into myself, bolder than before - he was losing more and more control over me.

Janet was the person he was able to mold.  Narcissistic supply.  She would appreciate any crumbs my ex threw her way, she never even graduated high school (her brother told me), she loved to get high and experiment with recreational drugs (something I would not do in all the years Robert attempted to force me)...Janet was putty in Robert Levine's hands.  Narcissistic supply is the constant attention, admiration, validation, and emotional reaction that a person with narcissitic traits or narcissistic personality disorder requires from others to prop their self-esteem.  Janet fit the bill.  And she benefited financially from being used in destroying my relationship with my sons.

But she also knew what she was doing.  Plotting.  

By the late 1990's, I had already contacted the local police regarding the domestic violence I endured.  I had started telling friends and even my rabbi about what Robert did to me.  I was growing in many ways, starting to stand up for myself.  And I was learning about abuse, not just living in it.  I did not know it then, but Robert and Janet sneaking around a "lakehouse" in Mahopac, NY, her house in Brewster, NY,…meeting in restaurants saying it was just a coincidence...they planned on erasing me from the lives of my sons, Jason and Jared.

As Robert and Janet were together more often, the violence in my home escalated.  The abuse became unbearable - which I realize now was Robert's plan all along.  The worst of times was during the summer when Jason and Jared were away at sleep away camp.  Robert had even started threatening me with his guns.  

Robert, along with his paramour Janet, set the stage.  Hellbent to make my life as miserable and unsafe as possible, the beatings amplified.  Robert started involving my sons in the abuse.  When he'd lock me in the bathroom, he'd ask my sons on the other side of the door, "How long should we leave her in there?"  The three of them would laugh.  Then Robert would go downstairs into the basement, turn off the circuit breaker only to leave me in the dark for hours as the three of them would go out to dinner.  Leaving me alone in the dark, locked in the bathroom of my Bedford home.

He started involving my sons in so many ways - reshaping memories, molding a new narrative.  And I was not in it.

Just to jump ahead - I tried leaving all the abuse several times and filed for divorce three Robert 3 times.  It's true that the third time is the charm.  He kept threatening me.  On one hand, he was pushing me to leave him - and on the other, he would say that if I left him I'd never see my sons again.  Gaslighting and crazymaking were an everyday occurrence.  After years of court appearances, my divorce was finally granted on cruel and inhuman treatment. 

And throughout my divorce, he had Janet step in to take the place of me, my sons' mother.  She moved into my home after I left - while our divorce went on for years via the legal abuse Robert bestowed on me.  My sons were told that I broke up the family.  That I didn't love them enough to stay with their father.  That I wanted a new family.

And as evil as Robert Levine was and is....Janet participated in erasing me.  I raised my sons practically alone until they were 14 and 17 years of age.  But she went along with replacing my sons' memories.  She was a tool in the alienation of my sons.  

One of the most powerful tactics of narcissistic abuse is gaslighting—where the abuser makes you doubt your own memories, feelings, and perceptions.This is clearly exhibited with a narcissistic parent in parental alienation, abuse by proxy.

My sons wrote me horrible emails, calling me a cunt, wishing I were dead, and worse.  All based on lies they were told.  I was being blamed for things I never did.

Through the years...I emailed Janet, messaged her as well.  I begged for her to help me see my sons again during my divorce.  Her reply was, "Go fuck yourself."

I saved those emails.

Here's the bottom line of divorcing an abusive narcissist:  you don't lose custody - oh, no.  Your children are literally stolen from you.  Stolen.  

And I always thought there was some sort of obligation women had to help other women.  I was naive.

The real bomb was dropped on me only months ago, though.  When in a text message, my younger son Jared at the age of now 40 told me that I was only his "biological mother."

Robert married Janet as soon as our divorce was final.

I was already erased.

And remember I told you that I could literally prove the brainwashing involved?  During the divorce, my son Jared actually told me that his father just met someone "new" and she was his "new girlfriend."  My son at 14 did not remember all the years he sat across from Janet at birthday parties and other family gatherings.  It's as though his memories were replaced by what his father and Janet wanted him to believe.

But the "biological mother" crap was it for me.

It was a funeral.  It was a death.  It was the end.

That is the kind of bullshit manipulative narcissists drill into the minds of the young.  So that was it for me.  No more reaching out, no more praying, no more hoping.  In a matter of few words, my son let me know there was no hope of ever reuniting with my alienated children, as they were gone.  And so were all the fond memories of life with me in them. 

As long as they choose to think of me as only their "biological" mother, I could not bear it.  For I had given them my heart, soul, and every breath for their entire childhoods.  They were my entire life from the moment they were conceived, beyond the 14 and 17 years.  I cried every day during my divorce - over them.  I almost lost my life when I wanted the pain of not seeing them to end.  They were my everything.

And I am their mother.

I didn't lose Jason and Jared.

They were stolen.

Not Alone

"It is in the shelter of each other that the people live." - Irish proverb 

There was a time in my life when I was all I had.  With two children dependant on me, I remained in a marriage that was physically, emotionally and psychologically abusive for two decades. I had no family to lean on, and most of the people in my life were on the payroll of my then-husband.  When I literally made a friend of anyone, my ex husband would figure out a way to sabatoge it.  Or just forbid any sort of relationship from forming.

Life is different now.  Every day of my life still contains battles of different sorts.  Only now, I have an army behind me.  

You always hear there is strength in numbers....people pray together, sign petitions together, even mourn together.  Right now, this strength is contributing to my survival.  I've muddled through - hell, I've lived through! - so much already.  A friend just emailed me....that I will find a way to get beyond my most recent obstacle.  In the past, I found a way through so many hurdles and complications.  I'm hoping I will be able to this time.

Special thanks to my dear friend Nancy Panes for orchestrating a Gofundme to help me through my latest war, which includes my cancer journey.

Looking back over the two decades that were my "marriage", I remember times of difficulties.  Many of the control tactics used by then husband Robert Levine were merely an extension of his defective personality.  As young boys, my sons bore witness to many hardships and absurdities their father bestowed upon us.  Now mind you, we lived with a housekeeping staff in a gorgeous home on Bedford acreage, drove the most luxurious cars (when we were not chauferred), went on the most extravagant of vacations( $1,500 a night 20 years ago was nothing for our hotel), and when "the boss" approved, money was no object.  My jewelry and clothes were the best of the best - he picked everything out.  But my sons bore witness to much else. When their father would watch every single penny of "his" multi-million dollar fortune, I figured out ways around it.  Selfish and unkind, to say the least, he had to have full control over every cent.  And the only time he would express the most remote form of generosity, was when he 1. had beaten the crap out of me, 2. needed something, or 3. wanted to make a certain impression. 

My sons, Jared and Jason, lived through craziness.  Their father would tell them they were not "allowed" to have new sneakers - many times, even when their shoe size changed!  I would save up and buy those sneakers for them.  Scrimp was more like it.  My sons would be ecstatic and terrified at the same time - saying their father would kill me if he found out I bought them new sneakers without permission!  I would hide the new sneakers in the trunk of my car until their father was at work or sleeping.  Discarding the shoeboxes at the local A & P dumpster, I would take the sneakers and rub some dirt on them until they looked used.  Then my sons would feel safe to wear them.  

One time, my younger son needed a new bicycle. A neighbor brought it to my attention, after I had already realized this.  Jared's knees were hitting the handlebars.  At 13 years of age, he still loved his bike, rode it everywhere.....But Robert said he could not have a new one.  Too scared to beg his father, we kept quiet until I couldn't take it anymore.  Robert would come home with new acquisitions on a weekly, if not daily basis.  $200  for each fish for his fish tank, another motorcycle for $80,000....and my son's knees were getting bruised from banging into his handlebars.  One day I took the husband’s credit card( yup, I snuck it out),  I never had my own credit card….headed to the local Bicycle store - and purchased a new bike for Jared. You know Jared was too scared to ride it when I brought it home?  He thought his father would "kill" him - and me, for buying it.  Turned out my son's instincts were correct - and Robert returned the bicycle within hours. Just another episode we made it through - lots of banging, screaming, breaking things, and then my punishment - after the kids went to sleep. I woke up with a badly bruised shoulder, and my son did not ride his too small bike again.  Sadly, we learned to move on.     

I remember how we had a corner on the bathroom counter where we were to leave written requests for monies we needed.  Yes, even my sons had to write their requests as soon as they were old enough to do so.  I saved some of them - their scribbled requests.  Pathetic, huh?  Considering we lived in an estate in Bedford and one of our cars was almost $1,000,000 (a 1933 - 1006 Packard Dietrich Convertible Sedan), it wasn't as though money were a problem.  Sick.  Often times, Robert could be heard boasting that he was the Bank of America...and he'd tell us he had more money than G-d.  If I needed money for the drycleaners, there was a written request.  If the boys' needed a gift for a friend's birthday party - a written request had to be approved by Robert.  Yes, it was a terrible way to live.  But I always found ways around it.

Like all those times my sons and I made donations to local charities.  We could never tell their father.  He would go into rage mode.  Another example was when the neighborhood asked me to donate macaroni salad, potato salad, etc. from Robert’s  business, Foodirect, for a community picnic (and I didn't even know many of the neighbors after living there for a decade) - my then husband’s blood curdling scream expressed his words, "Someone has to pay for that shit and it isn't going to be me."  So, I stockpiled what I had to contribute to the picnic ... and got by.

I managed to live through two decades like that.  With many stories, there are many scars. I won't get into my  physical punishments for disobeying him, not now.  But even after leaving him years ago, I'm still trying to adapt my life to the wills and demands of that abuser.  Robert has yet to fulfill our divorce decision settlement from 2006! He used the court system to make money disappear and wear me out.  I never collected my half of the Bronx business, Foodirect, or my half of my house at 11 Piping Brook Lane in Bedford, New York. 

After seeking a divorce and justice in our broken court system for over 17 years, the post separation abuse left me financially bankrupt.

Some things don't change.  He still tries to control things. He destroyed my relationship with my sons through lies and coercive control….as the sons continue to be manipulated by working at Foodirect as adults.  I have 4 grandchildren I’m not allowed to meet. But the difference is, I have people who care about me - holding me up.  And in the process, I am  holding out hope to keep moving forward. One day at a time.  Sometimes, from moment to moment.

There really is strength - in numbers. 

If you think winning isn’t important, you’ve never had cancer.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-julie-levines-healing-journey

So Different

All my life, I've felt like a square peg that just doesn't fit into the circular opening of a puzzle.  So, often, I think differently and feel differently than others.  And more often than I can count, I will acknowledge that I feel too much.

When my sons were in preschool, I had a Ferrari Mondial.  It wasn't because the car was a status symbol.  I am an admitted car nut.  Throughout high school and college, the photo I carried in my wallet was a photo of a lamborgini countach.  I have been car crazy since the age of 6 when my uncle introduced me to his shiny new Pontiac Bonneville convertible.  I love cars.  So this new Ferrari back then was a daily driver that my then husband and I both drove.  As an abuse surviver with CPTSD, I can recall experiences and situations in the past extremely vividly.  Especially the time when I knew I had to pick up Jared at preschool and the only car available to me was the Ferrari (we always had multiple cars in our collection).  

I did not want to use it to drop off or pick up my sons at their SUNY Purchase preschool.  Not wanting to make any other parents uncomfortable (I knew many of the parents were professors at the college on teachers’ wages),  I just wanted to fit in.  But the then husband and I had many a fight over using the car for such a purpose - I can recall one emotional rage explosion Robert Levine had in particular.  It did not end well and I picked up my son in the flashy loud red car.  My ex husband and I were such opposites in our thinking.  He always wanted people to think he was better than them.  I always just wanted to fit in.  I never wanted to throw material things in anyone's face - but Robert enjoyed impressing people.  At all costs. He made a point of boosting and boasting his economic image.

During my marriage, I always did what I could to volunteer for local Westchester County New York causes.  I did so quietly.  I specifically volunteered through Friends of Karen and at the Millwood Food Pantry.  For years.  I did not wear my diamond jewelry, my Gucci loafers, or Prada clothing there when I volunteered (retail items purchased to upstand the image my ex husband wanted me to project - he was all about status).  No Chanel flats ever saw the Millwood Food Pantry.  I didn't want to throw material things in anyone's face or appear so financially fortunate.  I didn't want the gap between me and those I encountered to be as vast as an ocean.  And I would park whatever car I was driving that day, down the block and walk.

It was as though Robert viewed me as an extension of his own image - I had to project wealth and success (neither of which I was personally).  Robert was always in  control of every single penny in our marital finances.  When I would go grocery shopping, I would have to request an itemized approximate amount of the money I needed.  Upon my return, he would review the receipt and take back the change.

When I worked part time in retail, if I didn't put the earned salary back into the store via items I'd purchase - my ex husband would take each and every paycheck. He demanded them - or else . It's so funny and sad...I remember him convincing our 2 sons that I had a shopping problem and kept stealing his money - I hate shopping and only came home with "things" so he wouldn't take my checks.

But when I volunteered at those local organizations during my marriage, I was just Julie.  It was wonderful.  Like a breath of fresh air.  I never told Robert about any of it.  In fact, I remember him screaming at the  top of his lungs (which he did often) because packages of paper towel were missing in our basement's storage area.  You see, Robert owns Foodirect, the largest wholesale food and grocery product business in Hunts Point Market of the Bronx, in New York.  He used a part of our basement for items he would bring home - and I helped those items make their way to the Food Pantry.  I'm smiling a huge smile as I type this.  Robert wouldn't give anyone ice in the winter.  That's for another blog entry.

As I'd park my car down the block from whatever establishment I was volunteering at, I was myself - no airs, no false images.  Just the way I wanted to live my life and help others.

After I divorced Robert Levine, freedom was the first thing I felt.  But I didn't even know what my favorite food was.

A few years ago, I saw something online that disturbed me emotionally to a point where I realized it made my stomach sick.  A woman hosted an event for underprivileged young girls in Newark New Jersey.  In several of such events' photos, she is wearing her Chanel shoes, her designer clothing, jewelry - exactly how my ex husband would have wanted me to appear.  In my mind, all I could think was how inappropriate this appeared among young girls who may not even have owned their own toothbrush.

What makes people so clueless?  

And why am I so different? 

Now we have Facebook and Instagram to deal with.  I avoid those social media platforms at certain times of the year.

I literally feel sickened when people post photos of their holiday tables to show everyone the abundance of food they have.  There usually are no people in the photos so it's not like a family remembrance pic.  Just photos of their luxurious table with overflowing food photos.  

What are these people trying to say?  And why?

I want to cry when people post piles and piles of holiday wrapped gifts under a tree for their photo op - no children in  photos.  What are they trying to show everyone?  What they can afford?

And Chanukah is no different.  Just photos of gifts piled up in my opinion serves no purpose other to accomplish the way the photographer wishes to present themselves to their audience.  Look what I can do!

How many people do not have an abundance of food at their holiday tables?  How many homes are without piles and piles of holiday gifts for their loved ones?

I had alot of both for most of my life and I did not and would not focus on such a display to the world.  And it's no sour grapes because of my present financial struggles.  It's a matter of consciousness.

Why aren't people conscious of how many don't have such opportunities?  Why are people posting - Look at me photos- Look what I can pay for!

Why not think of the majority of the world?  Especially those who are struggling in ways many can't imagine.

God bless the fortunate families, and God bless those less fortunate.

Enjoy the things you can afford quietly.  

But what I would like to see is....people using social media for good.

Share your family memories with your loved ones in posts….but also share animals in need of homes, neighbors in need of emotional support, locations and organizations where victims of domestic violence can find help, etc.

I post my reality. On “X”, I share my life experiences regarding abuse and how to recognize the red flags.  I know I am helping others by the feedback I receive.On Facebook, there are photos of my fur baby - that’s for me to preserve each and every joy he brings me.  I’ll share my artwork to sell, my Julie’s Bloomies for exposure (sold exclusively at In the Pink in Livingston New Jersey), and I’ve learned to ask for help when I need it by sharing my cancer journey.

I’ll post a blog entry and tell you my life’s story so my past won’t be someone else’s future.

I’m writing this just to vent.  But maybe something will click in a reader’s mind and they will start sharing lost and found pets, animal rescues, neighbors in need…and keep it all real.

Humbly yours,

Julie