Here I go, throwing my cause into the fundraising arena. Feels so weird, and I really had to talk myself into it (and BE talked into it), but in the end I realized I really have little choice left at this point in the game.
I think we are nearing the end of this whole legal mess, and at this point, I have two choices - to leave my kids behind, move into my mom's house on the Big Island, and send nearly $600 a month in child support; or make one last effort to fight this thing. Fight, or flight. Two choices.

Here's the story in a (really big) nutshell:

(UPDATE: It was recently brought to the attention of The Fundrazr Team that my campaign might be in violation of some kind of something or other. So to comply with this sites legal requirements that nothing I say is "unlawful, ... harassing, ... defamatory, ... libellous, invasive of another’s privacy, hateful, ... or otherwise objectionable" I have edited this entire story. I leave it to my readers to interpret and fill in certain blanks as they wish. Thank you.)
Three years ago I discovered my dog was having an affair with the 19 year old doormat who was living with us and who was my daughter's close friend. I had been told for a few weeks prior to this discovery that my 13 year fantasy was over, yet nothing was done to make this happen. Therapy was started, but it was unsuccessful. On July 7th, the day of my mother's birthday (who had just passed away three months earlier) I discovered 'the email'. The younger half of this equation flew the coop immediately, but for the next two months there continued to co-habitation - with intimacy - within a certain legally binding relationship that I was a part of.  Even the discovery in mid- August that there continued to be a secret relationship was not enough for me to let go of this prison sentence.

After nearly three months of an emotional roller coaster, I had the classic breakdown that everyone had been warning me about. In response to this, some mysterious, unknown person called the police and had me taken in for protective custody. I was evaluated and declared 'under extreme emotional duress' and put up in a room for the night. I stayed away from home for two nights, and when I revealed I was coming home that night to see my kids, I was served with a restraining order.

At this point I am now homeless as the Order included the family home. I am also completely barred from coming near my children, and I was facing the obliteration of my life as I had known it. These were incredibly difficult days, obviously. The kindness of friends, as well as my wonderful new job in my field of early childhood education got me through.

There was a court hearing two weeks after the restraining order had been filed. The judge was almost going to allow me to stay in the home, but at the last minute it was mentioned that it I wasn't the one responsible for doing partial work-trade on the house and therefore I shouldn't be the one to remain. The judge then agreed. Though the judge lifted the barrier between my kids and I, and reduced the restraint between Clark Griswald and I from 250 feet to only 25, I was still ordered to stay away from my home.

During the next two months, I went from staying with a friend to staying in a freezing, moldy, leaking trailer. It was incredibly tricky for me to get my belongings, but with some grudging allowances from the milkman, I was finally able to do so.

Daddy Warbucks and I were also discussing my financial future at this time as well (via text and emails only). I was told that money would be borrowed from a friend to help me with move in costs on a house, and to contribute $400 per month towards my rent. I found a house that was $1000 a month with heat and phone included. I double checked with my texting partner that this was the right thing to do; that I really was going to be getting that help, as there was no way I could afford this house on my own. After the necessary assurances, I signed the lease. After one excuse or another, I did not get the help with move in costs, so I borrowed $500 and received the other half from a local community support agency. I moved in December 7th.

Just before Christmas, it snowed. While my kids were being dropped off for our weekend, we all had a snowball fight, the kids sledded, and I felt amazing - here we were, about to begin our new life as amicable co-_____! We could do this, despite all that had happened! A car got stuck in the snow so I let my truck be borrowed overnight. I was asked if I could be paid to care for (not my) ailing old dog for the week of Christmas as 'Santa' would be out of town, and I said of course. My new DVD player hooked itself up. We were doing this! And then...

After Christmas we began discussing next months rent. My cell phone told me it had 'changed his mind' and wasn't going to be helping me with my rent after all. I was stunned and scared. What was I going to do? How could this be? We went back and forth (via text and email) for a while, me feeling frantic and bewildered, and my cell phone unconcerned and passive. I finally said I would just come over so we could discuss it, as text and email were just not cutting it. I knew there was a friend visiting the person who isn't me, so I suggested maybe she could act as a third party to help us out. I said I'd come over this evening at 6:00. When I got there that night, the house was dark and empty. I sat in the kitchen and tried to get a hold of Batman via his cell, his guests cell, and calling the house they had gone to. I even called his mom. After almost an hour, I gave up and left. The police were waiting for me at the top of the driveway - I was under arrest for violation of an Order of Protection.
I spent a night in jail. I appeared before a judge in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs. Me, a mother of three and an Early Childhood Educator. I can't write this without crying...
The only positive thing about that experience is that I left any love I still had for that man on the floor of that cell. (Curse you, Batman!!!)

Despite these awful experiences, I persevered. I had love and kindness coming at me from my community, and I somehow made it all work out (in the end, I did receive a few hundred dollars towards rent, just once, but never did get the agreed amount for caring for the dog).
I had to move again after a few months due to the sale of the home, but I had an angel looking out for me and she found me housing quickly. I also had another angel enter my life at this time in the form of a therapist. This woman had heard about my story, and being somewhat of an expert in domestic violence (having been in the field for many many years) she began seeing me for free. This woman scraped me off the ground and saved my life.

It was at this time that I hired my first attorney. He was the least expensive I could find, and I used my tax return as a retainer fee. He was very helpful in that he helped me organize myself and gave me a focus on how to proceed through this mess. We got some motions before the judge; some were successful, some were not. We also had a court appointed Guardian ad Litem assigned to our case. This was, to me, the best thing that could happen. There was no doubt in my mind that this person would be able to see what was going on, as it was so ridiculously obvious, and that very soon all would be put to rights.
Our GAL came over and spent about 20 minutes with my kids and I, a few minutes alone with each child. He did the same at the house I didn't live at anymore. He made many phone interviews to close friends as well as therapists, etc. I was so so sure...

When I got the report that was filed with the courts I was completely horrified. Not only did he call me a 'welfare mother' but he said my former mechanic seemed more like a 'senior clergy member' than a 93 year old sugar-daddy. This, despite a relationship with a near child! The report went on to dismiss the advocacy of my very highly qualified therapist because she did not 'speak to the other party and had only one side of the story'; he dismissed my oldest daughter's assurances that I am a good mother and should absolutely have equal time with my children because she 'grew up with abuse' (though there has never, ever been any kind of evidence anywhere that that is true); he dismissed my younger children's request that they live 50/50 with their parents because he believed I told them what to say; and, he not only interviewed the young pterodactyl who was still involved with my bad choice, but accepted everything it had to say as truth, including the claim that I 'stalked and harassed her'! (Who stalks and harasses pterodactyls? I mean, really??)
I was railroaded.

All around me I could hear the nails being driven into my coffin. It was now going on a year of seeing my children only every other weekend and a few hours Wednesday afternoons. I had always been the primary caregiver in our home. I was a stay at home mom for the first 10 years of motherhood, and then I entered the field of Early Childhood Education, in large part because the hours kept me available for my children when they were out of school. My 'low self esteem' was often gone on the weekends, leaving me with the children. I was the one who took them to birthday parties, arranged playdates, and kept them involved in their extra-curricular activities. And now our relationship was reduced to barely 6 days a month. It was hell.

I spent the next year working hard on purchasing my own home through a local home buying program, and working on my case to get my kids back. I had applied to a program called Moderate Means, which provided legal help to folks who met their income requirements, and after a bit of a wait, I finally had a very lengthy intake interview, was accepted, and then matched with an attorney who was based in Oak Harbor (a couple hours away) for a very significantly reduced hourly rate. I let my first lawyer go with an agreement that I would continue to make my payments to him after I took care of paying my new attorney (though my first lawyer did not adequately prepare me for my GAL interviews, etc, he and I became good friends and had mutual respect for one another. He wanted very much to see me succeed. I currently still owe him $5,000).

My new attorney, a woman, was amazing. She and I worked very hard to take on the legal issues I was dealing with. She had the integrity and values that were so important to me. She refused to fight dirty, and I was so glad for that - more than anything, I did not want to add any more ugliness and negativity to this awful situation for my kids' sake. I wanted to come through the end of this knowing that, no matter what the outcome, I did it all in a good way. We accomplished this.

Another year went by. I successfully bought my house; my oldest daughter was living with me; I navigated through the legal ramifications of my arrest; I worked on my case; I spent every minute I could with my children; I visited my therapist every week; I endured countless antagonistic situations from my not-over-yet-nightmare; and I grew stronger and surer and happier all the time.

At the end of the second Summer we were hit with more trauma at the hands of Peter Pan and his youthful crisis. Though there had been a continued relationship all this time, it had been done so very quietly and sneakily. Up until this point, there was only suspicion, never certainty, that they were still involved. Slowly it became more apparent that they were, indeed, still living in  Neverland, though my children were completely traumatized by Peter's Undoing. In very typical angry teenager fashion, my oldest daughter began sending some strongly worded texts to Peter expressing her feelings over this relationship. In these texts she threatened to physically harm Sheila if she ever saw her around her siblings. She never directly contacted this aberration in anyway. For reasons known only to God, Brutus (I mean Peter...), decided to show Voldemort (or is it Sheila? Damn, I'm losing myself in all these edits...) these texts from my daughter, and Voldy thought the best thing to do was to file a restraining order against my daughter. My daughter was actually fine with this, as she wanted nothing more than to have as much space between them as possible (it's Voldemort, so duh...). They appeared in court two weeks later, and the judge decided to rule that the order would remain. The only problem was in regards to Brutus's home. The judge ruled that if Voldy ever wanted to come to his house while my daughter was present, my daughter would have to leave. And my daughter could not go there if Voldy was there already. My daughter was horrified at this; though she spent most of her time in town at my house, she still very much considered that house to be her main residence - all her belongings were there, she got her mail there, her dog lived there, and of course her siblings were there. It had been her family home. She had effectively been cast aside for this awful young cliche.
On the ferry home from court, my daughter chose her seat, went to the bathroom, and returned to find Voldy sitting near her chosen spot. Instead of moving and being in compliance with the Order of Protection, she remained in her seat. The very next day her co-worker called her to say the police had been in looking for her. Phone calls revealed that she was wanted for violating the Order and would be arrested. As it was Thursday evening, we knew it was best to turn herself in immediately with the hope of seeing the judge the very next day rather than having to sit in jail all weekend. My beautiful daughter was placed in handcuffs and sent to jail for the night. The following morning I saw my little girl in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit, with red, swollen eyes. My heart broke all over again.
The trauma from these events is incredible.

The following December my attorney and I were ready for our day in court. I did everything in my power to not get my hopes up - I had already seen how unjust our system is. Still, I was not prepared for the loss I suffered. The judge deferred to the GAL completely, and the GAL claimed that because my Never Ending Story and I still had conflict, it showed that 'nothing had changed' and that I should not be allowed increased time with my kids. They referred to angry emails I had sent to the monsters under my bed in reaction to any number of the antagonistic treatment I regularly received from them, and claimed that I had been confrontational and aggressive at least twice publicly (though both of those situations had witnesses who later told me they would testify on my behalf if necessary). Because Severus Snape (ugh, I don't like that one, as we all know Snape turns out to be the hero of the whole story... But in this moment it just works so I'm going with it.) is very good at remaining calm and passive, he always appears as the rational and responsible one, whereas I am the one who is behaving too emotionally and angrily. A classic scenario, for sure.
Once again, I lost. After thousands of dollars and so much time and hope, I was no better off than I was when this all started. It was the GAL report that keeps coming back to haunt me.

Ever since that court date, I have been faced with a very painful dilemma. While I was focused on fighting, I was able to face future and continue on. Now that it was over, I had to decide if I could accept permanently this diminished and marginalized role in my children's lives. Though many have argued with me about it, I cannot shake the feeling that I am little more than vapor in their lives - a ghost mom, no substance. Do I continue in this manner - sidelined and unneeded, regularly provoked by Smaug for years to come; or do I leave the island and let them just get on with their lives? I have the other option of fighting this thing out in a trial, but I could neither afford it, nor did I want my kids and I to go through all of that. Not much to choose from.
For months now I have been really thinking on moving away. My mothers house has room for me on the Big Island should I choose to be there. Fight or flight...

And then Mediation happened. Mediation is a mandatory part of the disentangling process with children, and it was finally going to happen! I had begged my cell phone repeatedly to attend mediation with me, especially at the beginning of this whole mess, but I was always flat out refused. Now we had to go. Two sessions happened, and I loved every minute of it. Finally stuff was getting worked out! It felt so good to be able to talk face to face after two years of being completely avoided, with no kind of direct contact, insisting on only text or email - not even the phone. I was so optimistic, and had renewed faith that this was going to work. Some agreements were made that I could be happy with (though far, far less than what it should really look like), and I walked out of there with the decision made that I would stay and all would be well.

It did not take long for that bubble to burst as well. Though I had decided to stay, my resolve was fragile. My Puppet Master quickly found yet another way to sabotage my ability to spend more time with my kids, despite the agreements made in mediation, saying that nothing had been finalized in court yet. It was too much. I decided I needed to get out of this. I needed to step away, and allow my children to live in the bubble that Prince Humperdink had created, and to spare them the discomfort of my struggles with the yo-yo I was attached to. No matter how well I hide it, my kids know when I am unhappy and stressed. They didn't need to feel conflicted between the love they have for apples, and the sorrow they feel for oranges. I needed to step back from their lives. Not easy to do when we live on a small island, yet I was in denial that moving away was what I needed to do - I had a new home that I love, the amazing support of a wonderful community, jobs I love, and I live in one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

And then three days ago I received the final documents to sign so I can complete the extrication process. In the documents it says I will be ordered to pay $580 per month for the children that were maneouvered away from me. I make $2,200 a month, less than half of what my protagonist makes. I cannot stay.

I have a free place to live on the Big Island. I will have to find a way to leave my new home here and go away to where I have little overhead so I can afford to pay child support to my kids. I was thinking I needed to leave them anyway, right?
But is that the right thing to do? It breaks my heart and I am scared as hell. I just don't know. Fight? Or flight?

And this brings me back to this fundraiser. There is still a possibility that I can face this trial and come through it successfully. I need to hire a new attorney, one who doesn't live near Seattle (I had to let my wonderful attorney go as she now lives much farther away and I cannot afford to have her travel). And I have more ideas on what I might need to do to get the judge to make a new decision. But it comes down to money. I still owe both lawyers a total of $7,500, and I am doing great with the payment plan I have in place, but I cannot afford the retainer for a new attorney. And if I am stuck with child support like that, I cannot continue to accrue legal debt. So it comes to this or the Big Island, and I really don't want to leave...

If you are still with me, thank you. I know this was far more than a nutshell, but trust me when I say I have left many things out. It has been a long and lousy saga.
If any of this strikes a chord with you, and you do choose to support this fight, my gratitude will be immeasurable, truly. I struggle with asking for help of any kind, and shied away from this as an option until a good friend put it into words I could accept. And so here I am.
I have the goal set to mainly cover a retainer fee for a new attorney, though I have yet to shop around for one. I will find a way to pay the accumulated fees. I am nothing if not resourceful and determined.

I do not know if I will be successful in court again, but if I have the support of people who love me and my children, I will certainly try. My kids are amazing, and worth absolutely every single effort. I will do anything for them, anything.

*names and details have been changed to protect absoutely no one. There is no one else involved in this story besides my children and I.

(Please understand that despite my attempts at editing humor, this is a very very painful and unjust situation. I have risen above time and time again and persevered with optimism and laughter once I have dried my tears and caught my breath. Your perspective is appreciated.)
Deepest gratitude to you all.
Love and Aloha,
Emily Fairlight McGerty