...but the poison is not a chemical in your bloodstream. It's not a poison for your body. It's a poison for your mind, heart, and soul, and it's probably been slowly killing you for years. This is what the system is DESIGNED to do, to destroy fathers and families.
What is Ipecac?
Ipecac was discontinued in 2010, but it was known to generations as a vomit-inducing agent for instances when someone may have swallowed something toxic. I (Jon Klement) remember my grandma telling stories about using it.
The metaphor of the book "Ipecac for the Divorced Dad's Soul" is that the Anti-Family Court System poisons many divorced dads psychologically, damaging them, disenfranchising them, and even, in a sad number of cases, going as far as contributing to "PTSD-like" symptoms and even suicide.
Just as Ipecac was used for generations to purge chemical poison that was swallowed, "Ipecac for the Divored Dad's Soul" is intended to help divorced fathers and those who love them and want to help them, to purge the anti-family system's poison.
My name is Jon Klement. I'm the author of "Ipecac for the Divored Dad's Soul" and I was almost literally killed by so-called "child support". I want to help YOU or a father you love, purge the poison of family legal abuse from your mind so you can get healthier both for YOU and your kids.
Although the effects of family legal abuse can be devastating: financial destruction, incarceration, increased risk of suicide, depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, hopelessness, and even "PTSD-like" symptoms, hopefully not too many folks reading this have almost lost their lives to it as I came close to losing mine to it in 2012.
In April of 2012, my family's lease was up for our apartment. Because the State of Missouri levied so-called "child support" against us that exceeded 200% of my household income at the time, we were unable to renew our lease. There just wasn't any money.
We moved into a car. I vividly remember having to throw most of our family possessions into a dumpster, while it was raining, so that we could downsize our possessions to fit into the car. Throwing away beloved toys of my youngest (who was only 7 at the time), I lost it emotionally for a bit and just had to lean on the dumpster for support and let the rain wash away my tears. Fortunately, by the grace of God, I got a job a few days later (for which I had been previously going through the interview process) that reduced the percentage of so-called "child support" levied against us to a mere 85% of my income. For the first two weeks, not wanting to have the children sleep in the car with me, I gave up the 50/50 time they are supposed to have with me according to the court's so-called "parenting plan". I missed them terribly for two weeks.
Two weeks into this "lifestyle", I had networked with enough of my friends to arrange for the 50/50 nights that I had the kids to not be based in the car. I was very worried that giving up the 50/50 time with the kids for any longer of a period of time than the two weeks I already had would create a precedent that would be used against me in court. So, while I continued to sleep in the car whenever I could, so as not to overstay my welcome with any of my friends, and while I rotated which friend we stayed with as much as possible, whenever the kids and I were together as a family, we always had a real place to stay in that wasn't a car. So, the kids and I got to be together as a family again.
Finally, one day, the car died. Great gouts of smoke and/or steam billowed out from the great '70's beast we were driving like it was a dragon. By the grace of God, this happened near my employer's parking lot. I managed to drive the dragon in there before it finally wouldn't move any more under it's own power. I called the kids' biological mothers so they would get the kids and finish taking them to summer school that morning. Then, God gave me grace with my boss so that my car would be allowed to stay there until pay day, when the meager scraps of what was left of my pay check after so-called "child support" raped it for 85% could be invested in a tow and car repairs. So, the car would be inside a tall fence in an area watched 24 hours a day by a guard shack.
After the kids had been picked up by their biological mothers and arrangements had been made with the boss about the car, I prayed out loud in sheer frustration and exhausted anguish, "OK, God, where are we going to sleep tonight?" Immediately, the phone rang in my hand, as if in immediate direct answer to that prayer. It was a worker from a homeless shelter for which the kids and I had been on a waiting list for weeks. The lady was calling to inform us that we had just made it through the waiting list and that there would be beds for us that night. By the grace of God, the homeless shelter was exactly 2 miles from my job, an easily walkable distance.
One day, walking to work from the homeless shelter, alone through downtown St. Louis, I was mugged and almost stabbed to death. At that moment, having been surrounded by a gang who had knocked me onto my knees on the sidewalk hard enough to tear my clothes and skin on the concrete, time slowed down in a weird surreal sensation. I watched the drops of my blood from the scrapes drip onto the pavement. I knew the knife was coming next. I wondered if I would be killed outright on the pavement or if I would live for an ambulance to take me to an emergency room where I would fight for my life there. I knew that I had done all I could up to that point in life for my kids as their father and that gave me peace. In a second of silent prayer, I gave the situation to Lord Jesus and just let what would be, be.
The knife never touched me. The next thing I remember is that a loud, commanding voice bellowed out, "Hey, what are you kids doing there?" The muggers ran off as what looked to me like what would be described as a "muscle car" pulled over right next to me. A large group of large men got out. They were HUGE bodybuilder types in T-shirts, all of them totally ripped. I remember wondering how tightly they must have all fit in the car together, like circus clowns in a clown car. One of them helped me up,asking how I was, while others ran after the muggers and a couple of them even came back in a few moments with my stolen work bag.
I told them I was all right and that I was going to walk to what I thought was a police substation about a block away. They left. I never saw them again. I have no proof, and you can disagree all you like, but I believe the men were angels. What I had thought was a police substation turned out to be a security company, which was why I saw cars parked in front with lights on them and saw people going in and out in uniforms. The securty company called the real police and I made my report.
That is how so-called "child support" almost ended my life. If it weren't for so-called "child suport" my children and I would have woken up in our own beds that morning in our own home. I would have driven them to summer school, dropped them off, and then gone to work myself. So-called "child support" was the single causative factor of the situation.
My book "Ipecac for the Divorced Dad's Soul", currently in the consideration process of a major New York publisher, will share EVERYTHING I know about surviving family legal abuse, emotionally, nutritionally, psychologically, physically, financially, and every other way I've learned to cope and deal with it. It's my hope and prayer that God uses what my family has been through to help others, until ultimately, family legal abuse can be ended.
I got a membership to a gym so that I could shower each morning before work. I slept in the car. On the advice of a couple of friends of mine, one a police officer, and the other two security guards, I slept in a Walmart parking lot so that the situation was brightly lit and there would be security guards patrolling all night in a golf-cart type vehicle.