Sunday, March 02, 2008

• Humpty Dumpty Sat on a Wall

  Currently Listening: Sing Loud, Sing Proud

  Anyone can become angry. That is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose and in the right way... that is not easy.
  -- Aristotle.

  ---

  Anyone who has been through a custody battle can tell you that it feels like every emotion that you are capable of feeling is ripped out of you, put into a bowl, mixed together, force fed down your throat and then demanded that you feel every single one of them at the same exact time or else. Self-doubt becomes your best friend, anger becomes your sidekick, confidence visits once in a while and leaves it's favorite t-shirt at your house for you to borrow, and heart break isn't a hotel, but a residence. You look at your children, frustrated that someone else - someone NOT THEIR PARENT - has the potential to take those beautiful sometimes angels and sometimes demons out of your grasp, and you are left to pick up whatever pieces may fall and try to superglue them, even though there are sure to be some very important pieces missing and you will never be able to put it back together again.

  You look at the clock, watch every moment, drink it in, and hope that it doesn't go away. There will be moments when you don't think you can take it one more day, let alone one more minute, you are human afterall. And there are days when you simply want to stay in bed and wished that you believed that when you pray for something this life altering a special radar went off and the universe was sure to hear your request. You rationalize how you are what is best. You try to think of what personal attacks could possibly be made against you. You try to find worst case scenarios to assimilate to, to prepare for, so if that crushing blow comes, it doesn't hurt quite as much.

  Welcome to the Emotional Anatomy of the Custody Battle 101.

  I know that I have only spoken about the impending doom briefly and vaguely. Partly because I didn't want to open apart of myself that would become an emotional puddle laying on the ground for everyone to step on and not being able to be strong and focued. Partly because I didn't want to admit that the father of my children is such a douche bag. (Yeah, I DID just call him a douche bag and dammit, it felt GOOD to.) Partly because I didn't want to expose this very vulnerable part of my life. I realized, however, my slipping it under the rug I have done nothing but allowed myself to become even more angry, even more hurt, and even more determined to save them from him.

  I know, I KNOW, I sound like the stereotypical, angry, spiteful, and hate-filled Baby Momma, but I promise you that this anger, this feeling of betrayal, this pure rage is well placed. This is a man that violated my baby girl, a little girl that already has life stacked against her - even if only slightly - by having Asperger Syndrome. A little girl that is probably one of the most amazing people that I know, and I know A LOT of people. He hurt her. Not only did he physically hurt her, he has forever changed the person she is. I know that people heal from these things. I know that people are able to work through amazing things in therapy. Right now, though, I know the fear she has of nearly everyone. I know the nightmares she experiences on a nightly basis, coming into our bedroom afraid. I hear her call out to us to make sure that someone is awake so someone is there to be her guard. I know of the difficult time she is having comprehending this all and the even more difficult time she is having feeling any bit of good about herself.

  I know about the games he has played. I know about his smug attitude, thinking that I am nothing. This was an on-going theme in our marriage. I know of his bullying, I suffered at his hands greatly. I know of his name calling - he continues it towards me still this day. I know of the fear that has been instilled into my chidren. And I know that every move he makes, it isn't about them or what is best, it is about hurting me.

  When I first left him, I had this grand disillusion that we would do the Bruce and Demi thing and remain friendly and always work towards achieving those things that were in the best interests of the children. I tried to remain civil. I would break down and cry over the harsh words he launched at me, but I would never tell him to leave me alone or stop. I would suffer silently, thinking I was doing a service to my children by working through things this way. I now understand that this was misunderstood as a sign of weakness and not a sign of, well, being a parent! It is especially apparent now that I have moved on, that life is good for me, that I am thriving without him, that I have that great love that he never was, that I actually am even beginning to totally dig myself that every move he makes is not to have the children. It is not to be a father to them, because truth be known, during our time together he wasn't much of one of those. (Oh Hindsight - why can't you foreshadow?) What he wants more than anything is to cause me pain and to appease those around him.

  Where did all of this sudden anger and ire appear from? Tuesday the first round of a painstakingly long process of mediation and interviews and GAL appointments and trial begin. I know that we are not going to come to an agreement in mediation because he is no longer able to control me personally, so he is using the one thing he has left hanging over my head, and that is them. After mediation fails and his girlfriend's father (oh, did I mention THAT is his attorney?) tries to talk him out of fighting more but he will not listen because he knows just about everything in this world (except how to treat people) a GAL will come and interview us all. And then the fun begins. In preparation for mediation, I created my proposed parenting plan, outlining what I felt was to be in the best interest of the children, offering how and why and what I can do to provide that, and providing examples of how he has proven that he has shown bad judgment continuously in regards to the children, putting them in harms way, and harming them himself. Four hours later. Yes, FOUR HOURS LATER, I am still not finished. I am not going out for blood. I did not attack personally. I save those tactics for him. I did, however, detail how their basic needs were not meant because his hate for me interfered.

  And now, after reliving that, having to go there and see exactly what kind of creep he is and how he let those kids down, now I am angry. How dare he utter words to me like I know that he deserves them more than I do - like they are a prize to be won? How dare he tell me that I am a bad mother when I have done nothing but put those kids above everything - even my own desires? And where in Hannah's name does he get off pretending to be the Father of the Year when his own children do not even want to speak to him, let alone see him, they fear him, and he is putting them in situations that have the potential to be harmful? How dare he? How dare he when it has been me that has taken care of them day in and day out, whether we were together or not, changing diapers, going to doctor's appointments, visiting specialists, teaching them, loving them, and being the one person they could depend on when he was either too busy lost in EverQuest or spending $1000 we did not have on an RC car or being lost in who he was to notice these little people around him?

  I am sure that if I allowed myself to, I could go on for another four hours on my blog, chronicling all of the wrongs, trying to find the rights, expressing every single fear, and getting out every ounce of anger. I am just too exhausted to even try. So, I will close now with a simple request - please keep us in your thoughts, prayers, warm fuzzies, or whatever name you chose to use on Tuesday.

   

  • 11:16 PM
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