Mary Watts/2007-Present

(Emma with our therapist Mary.)

After I quit my therapy with Scott, I spiraled into a chasm, into a very dark and ugly place. I couldn’t pray, somehow feeling that God would taunt my prayers. I had stopped trusting Him since He didn’t answer my prayer concerning Scott. I entered my zombie phase. I cannot relate to you how broken I felt.

I started on SSI after I left Scott. I watched every horror movie I could find on cable and rent on DVD this was the root of bitterness God wanted to take out. It was during this time I couldn’t pray. I was crushed, bruised and impaled was how I felt. I now realize this was necessary in order to draw me into a deeper life with God.

It was months, before I was able to pray again. One night I cried out, "Why do you hate me? Why does nothing ever work out, when I have tried so hard to keep jobs, and raise this child you gave me to raise. I have loved her Father. Because You gave me the strength to love her, when everyone around thought I should put her into a group home. It was then that The Holy Spirit told me that God had been protecting us. I wanted to seek God’s Glory with a profound passion.

In the fall of 2007 I began to see a Christian therapist named Mary Watts. By the time I came to Mary I was pure wreckage, after the debacle with Scott.

From the beginning what I needed was a woman therapist. I should never have had a male therapist, the intense attachment that happens with therapy is so intimate, that one believes, well, I believed I loved Scott. There is a term known as “transference”, which happens a lot in therapy. This is why men should treat men and women should treat women. Mary has told me she will not treat men. I was safe with Mary. God sent me an angel, if angels were female. Mary’s own daughter Christa had died of leukemia when she was 16 years old in 1997. I believe God has used this terrible loss to make Mary an empathetic and caring therapist. She has created an environment of trust and mutual respect. I had never known that in therapy before.

In the autumn of 2008, Emma began her freshman year at Hoover. It was no less agonizing than the rest of the years. Emma was in the Special Education Program, but now had to go to six classes instead of just one. I knew that was not going to set well with Emma. I had to spend most of that year circling the campus for hours on foot in case she needed me. I would wonder from store to store, or sit in the fast food place buying a soda, re-filling it several times writing poetry, or reading my bible.

We had so many IEP’s. To date we must have had 200 IEPS (Individual Educational Plan).

Emma grew considerably worse, she began to scab herself on campus, purposely rubbing her arm against the sides of buildings. I didn’t know how to feel, numb, but alive, in shock, a type of grief, but walking around. It almost seemed she would come home injured in some way. There were days she would jump the barbed wire fence, and come home, soaked in the rain, with only one shoe.

I wanted to pull her out of school but the teachers, and administrators there wouldn’t let me home school her because of the IEP.

I began to cry out to God once again. I needed to abide In Him once again.

Sometimes Emma seemed well enough to take out to eat, we would eat at Red Robin’s once a month. It wasn’t always easy, there were times she was irritated with me, and wouldn’t talk to me.

Once, she got mad because I over tipped the waitress. When we got to the car, she punched me on the side of the head, and went into a tirade. I hated the tirades worse than anything.

She would get into a frenzy at home, talked to me as if she were interrogating me. “Look at me, what did I say?” “Repeat it.” If I didn’t she would begin all over again until I got everything she said right, and could repeat it to her verbatim. Sometimes this took 15 minutes other times, two hours. But I kept telling myself it was her illness.

There were times I would be driving and she would just jump out of the car, when I was at a stop sign, or I would literally have to pull over because she wanted to get out of the car immediately. This was terrifying she could have gotten hit by on- coming traffic.

I knew I survived this without killing her or myself because of Jesus. He is the only reason I never abused her, physically, emotionally or verbally. He is the One who kept pouring love into this child who seemed to hate me.

She could be pleasant watching Hogan’s Heroes and Stargate-SG-I. These were her favorite television shows. She could recite the dialogue to every episode of Hogan’s Heroes and Stargate.

Emma is extremely intelligent. She has the most adorable accent she speaks like she is from back east. This happened as a result of her ear drum bursting when she was 2. I had so many other issues with her that I was unable to take her on the city bus to speech therapy when she was a child.

The years never seemed to get easier but I was only getting older. I wasn’t 20 anymore, and it was then I knew I wasn’t ever going to get married. I began to have peace about never being married. It didn’t hurt me to see couples together the little stabs I used to feel.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield;

My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped;

Therefore my heart greatly rejoices,

And with my song I will praise Him.”

(Psalm 28:7)