I have a dead bolt on my bedroom door. I have a lock on my pantry. I change passwords often. I check the locks on my windows and doors all the time. Sounds like I am one paranoid bitch, huh? Nope. Just have been invaded over and over and decided I was taking my house back. I despise my DH's son. I despise the fact that their mother abandoned him and I was forced to raise him for years while my husband traveled. My marriage is healing, slowly. I am ashamed of letting this kid get to me. But I am not alone with all these feelings of rage, entrapment, resentment. That kid used me up. He is 17 now and I finally tracked down his mother. DH moved him in with her 6 months ago. The relief is something I still feel everyday. I never wanted to be a wife that refused to have her husband's child in my home. But I am. I also never wanted to raise someone elses kid. But I did. I would never chose to be friends with this kid if I met him on the street. I do not like him. Yet, I spent years raising him. I hate him. He will never force me to retreat in my own home ever again. I don't care if it costs me my DH. Nothing is worth that feeling of hoplessness combined with anger.