A Child in between...

One of the unfortunate consequences of a divorce, and subsequently the real tragedy of all that ensues is the child. Let me explain. Depending on the age of the child when all of this happens, there are certain degrees of effect the whole process has on the childs mind. If the child (or children) are very young in age, they really won't understand what is happening between 'Mommy and Daddy' and only somewhat realize one or the other is not around as much. The results can be from one extreme to the other; either the child will not really notice or will be profoundly affected. In the case of my child, she was very young and really had no idea of what was going on. I had to travel for my job, and work long hours, so my presence could be construed as being 'sporadic'. But when I was at home, my daughter was the center of my universe and I did my best to be as attentive and loving as I possibly could be.

Unfortunately, my presence was cut even further due to the nature of the divorce. It was not a 'civil' affair and could only be described as a battle for my daughters soul. You see, I saw early on with my wife that she was a dominant and manipulative force in the household by the way she parented the other two children in the house. There was an older brother and sister from a previous marriage (can you say, "clue?") and the older brother was the first born. As such, in my ex's eyes, he could do no wrong while the older sister could do little that was right. Early in the relationship with my ex, she confided to me that the daughter was a 'mistake'; the result of her ex husbands forcing himself on her too soon after the birth of their son. As tragic as that event was for my ex, the unintended result of this was the way she related to her daughter.

Brutal, comes to mind.

Her son, while basically a good kid, was pampered. A real "mommas boy' if you wish. He was not required to do even the most menial of household chores, and if asked to 'take out the garbage' would whine and complain sometimes so severely, it was just easier to do the chore myself rather than try to reason with him on the value of helping out. His grades at school hovered between failing and just barely passing due to his addiction to video games. He would stay up so late playing them I was often awakened at two or three o'clock in the morning by the sound of the endless looping of the games music track. I would then venture into his room and shut off the TV and try to get a little more rest before getting up to go to work. (My ex usually slept blissfully through all of this)

The daughter, on the other hand (And let me make a point here: I refer to her kids as "the daughter" and "the son" now only because they have pretty much all but forgotten me. At one time I was "Dad" to them and they were "My Kids". A proud moment in my life ravished by the effects of pain and physical intervention by my ex) was hard working, smart and full of energy. A straight 'A' student at school, there were many times I would hear her crying at bedtime because she was so tired and couldn't finish her homework. I would explain that sometimes it was better to just 'put it down' for a little while, rest, and come back to it later. She would then awake early to finish her project or whatever the homework assignment was before going to school. She always helped around the house; doing laundry, helping with dinner or the dishes, claeaning around the house...whatever. A real jewel of a human being.

But her mother saw her differently. The basic feeling of resentment she had for her daughter manifested itself in so many cruel ways. I noticed, on more than one occasion, whenever my ex had a bad day at work it was going to be a rough evening for the daughter. On more than one occasion I would intervene to the point that my ex's rage was now directed at me just to take the heat off the daughter. I saw what was going on, but was powerless to stop it. You see, there's an old saying; "There's only room for one rooster in the henhouse." I had moved into my ex's house, and while I had old-fashioned notions of "Dad" being the ultimate in authority, it did not work here. There was a fine balance between dispensing justice as I saw fit and not overstepping my bounds as "a visitor".

There was little room for diplomacy in a stuation like this. The rule of the house was decided long before I arrived, and no matter what my arguments or logic was, that it was a "shared" responsibility, it was not to be considered. So the battles raged sometimes for days. If I took up the fight for what I perceived as an unjust punishment, all hell would break loose. If the son refused to take out the garbage, well that was OK because he must be 'tired'. On the other hand, if the daughter refused, there would be such a verbal barrage or tirade as to the worth of the daughter, it would usually always end in tears. I stood back in the beginning remembering "my place" but could not for long. I became so incensed at my ex's obvious bias and disdain for the daughter that I would physically place myself in between my ex and the daughter ANY time there was a "dispute". This had the unfortuanate effect of making my life a living hell, but it was always temporary. And besides, I was mentally stronger and saw through my ex's bullshit, so therefore I could take it.

I'll never forget the first time the daughter called me "Dad". I still weep with that distant memory. Even the pain with all I have endured, it still remains in a tiny little corner of my mind. But that place is buried in a vault that nobody has access to, and I rarely go there myself. It gives me hope, and that is something I will have to live without.

Now, my daughter faces the same perilous existence as her older half-sister. And it has already begun in many ways. For instance;

1. Mental Abuse. This is hard to prove to anyone outside of the household. But it's there in all of the subtle ways it shows up. I'll never forget a birthday party (my daughters seventh) where she refused to eat the morning after I picked her up on a vistation weekend. Finally she agreed to some orange juice, but on an empty stomach that proved to be volatile. She threw up and I decided since "something" was wrong, we needed to go to the hospital. On the way there (and she was scared at this point) she finally confided to me that "Mommy told me not to eat here because I was poisoning her!"

WTF?

Not only was this revelation made to me, but another one was to be made to the nurse at the hospital. While examining my daughter, and gently reassuring her that everything would be all right, my daughter blurted out that her older brother "hit her". I did not hear this, but was informed by the nurse. I asked the nurse to try and ask my daughter more about the incident, but by then my daughter had clammed up tight (maybe realizing she said something "bad") and would say no more. The nurse informed me that she would have to report this to the "proper authorities" as a case for abuse. I agreed and told her to keep me informed.

Bottom line: Nothing was done nor was anything reported.

Even now, almost seven years later, my daughter is still being fed crap by my ex, plus who knows what really is going on in that household. At this point, my daughter is being told she can no longer see me by my ex. There is no Court order to enforce my ex's version of the law, but I have yet to be heard by the Court. (enter pain) My daughter is a cash cow to my ex and nothing else. I see it, my friends see it, my parents see it, even parents of my daughters friend see it. But that's not enough proof. Because all my ex has to say in Court is "thats not true" and the Court believes. (more pain) Over and over again, this is what this great State, who has documented law and and policies regarding the "welfare of 'this States' children is first and foremost" and "in the best interest of the child" has decided.

Bullshit.

I haven't seen my daughter in almost six months now because I discovered her "profile" on the new sensation "Myspace". It is nothing short of vulgar with direct references to drug use and sex. She is 13 1/2 years old and isn't even supposed to legally be able to post to the site?! She decided not to see me because of my values. As a result, the site has gotten worse, and has sexually provocative pictures of her IN MY WIFES HOUSE.

Of course she doesn't want to see Dad. Mom lets her get away with all kinds of stuff. (and don't forget 'I'm trying to poison her') Supposedly she is in therapy, with the Court's explicit instructions that "It is to repair the relationship between Father and Daughter".

I'm still waiting.

Waiting for the phone call where I find out she's either been arrested from the drugs or because of the people she hangs out with, she's pregnant or she's been in an accident.

I don't want to hear the worst.

Maybe that will get the Courts attention. But I doubt it. Somehow it will be my fault.

The Art of Deception

The one reality that I cling to is, "If I can feel it, then it's real." There are lots of things I can, or could feel; grass beneath my feet, a cool breeze on a hot summer day, the sense of joy after any accomplishment and.... pain. Especially pain. Pain is what brings me back to reality after feeling such nonsense like hope, satisfaction, and joy. It is the one true feeling that you can truly remember and count on to always be there in your time of need. I like my pain. I have to. I embrace it and surrender my very being to it's complete hold, like a hot shower on a cold winter morning. My pain keeps me alive for it feeds my soul with it's never ending suppply and the constant reminders that it is in total abundance. For without pain, I would have to substitute another equally addictive and abundant feeling to take its place and provide me with the emotional fix that I am addicted to.

Which brings me to the source of my pain. My "dealer" if you wish. Actually I have many, but I have my two main sources that I can count on for a fix when I need it. My ex and Family Court.

My ex gives me the most pain. She has a never ending supply that she is always willing to give to me. Day or night, whenever I run short of my supply of pain I can always count on my ex for a fix. And her main ingredient to make the pain more potent and longer lasting is my daughter. She always adds her to the dose of pain I get, thereby increasing its effects and ensuring me that my fix will last for much longer. And the doses of pain I get are stronger very time she gives them to me. Even now, I have enough pain in my possesion to last me a lifetime, and yet I still go back for more. I have taken almost 15 years of pain and like an out of control addict, I go back "just once more" to get another dose for it is now so potent I could not go without a fresh batch for long.

But the pain I get from my ex could not be handed to me so freely, nor would it be as potent as it is without the help of Family Court, for without the help of this powerful Dealer, the pain might not be as strong or long-lasting.

Oh I fully understand the implications involved with my dealings with my ex and the Court. And once I have given my soul over to these two, I will never get it back. And if I did, I would hardly recognize it as the one I handed over for that soul would be a complete stranger to me. One full of hope and promise. Full of energy and life. No, that soul is now a stranger to me and one I would not recognize, for many years have passed and I have forgotten his face.

I did not so easily fall to the clutches of pain and despair. I fought hard against them for many years with truth and hope. I held my head up high as a constant reminder to those who would drag me down that I could not, and would not be morally impeached. Against all odds, I maintained the path of the righteous and tended to it daily, never yielding to the temptation of pain and despair that was so eagerly sought by my ex and the Court. But as time wore on, I realized this battle was never meant to be fair. Nor was it meant to be a just battle, for if you believe that holding truth and morality up as your shield will only allow slight scarring in battle while you fight to win the war, you are mistaken. And foolish.

This was my mistake. I foolishly believed that if I always did what was right and just, that if I held myself to a higher moral standard than my enemy I would prevail. And I believed that that was what the Court believed too. I gave my trust over fully to the "wisdom" of the Court and just knew that if I held my ground, eventually truth would succeed and justice would prevail.

What a crock of shit.

Truth and morality have no place or business in a Court. Any Court. It's not whether you're right or not, it's how you are able to manipulate the facts to an obviously broken and one-sided system that determines "right from wrong." And don't be on the wrong side of this lopsided system, for if you find yourself there you can throw away all notion of morality and righteousness. These will do you no good here. In it's place you will have pain and disappointment to accompany you in and out of the Court. And the transformation will be permanent, for the years will go by taking away your hope and longing for justice replacing them with bitter memories and the realization that for all the good you tried to uphold, your just cause will be crushed like some insignificant ant on a sidewalk.

Ahh, it's been awhile now. A while since my last fix. I feel that emptiness inside of me that needs to be filled. Now, where's my fix? There it is, in the mailbox.

From: The Family Court of the State of........


I knew I could count on my Dealer.


Next: A Child in between...