I got wind of some interrrresting news today. Apparently:
- I was only going to move to the suburbs to make things more difficult for JDawg, and changed my mind when he threatened to remove spousal support because I don’t want to get a real job;
- I am crazy;
- He is focusing on positive stuff and balancing out Isobel (in reference to my craziness);
- When he moved back in, it was to try to fix our relationship, because he was worried about someone else coming in and raising his daughter;
- He can finally be allowed to be the parent he wants to be, because he can do whatever he wants with Isobel, now;
- I realize what a mistake I made and am trying to get him back – and have suggested that we go for couples’ counseling;
- Isobel goes with him to the book store every weekend, knows her ABCs and all the colours, and regularly speaks in full sentences;
- He will be signing an agreement with me for basically everything that I’ve agreed to, but in six months will be filing for joint custody behind my back.
Facts:
- I was going to move because he took all of our money a week before rent was due and said he would never pay another dime. I was trying to retain a landlord reference, get back my damage deposit and potentially be closer to friends. He asked me to move closer to him, so that life would be more convenient for him, nevermind what is better for Isobel and I.
- It’s true, I don’t want to get a ‘real job,’ I want to write and continue bookkeeping from home. Grandiose idea, I know. Kind of like those six months he spent drinking ‘contracting’ after Isobel was born, and collecting my parental leave.
- Yes, I am crazy. But it’s well under control, thank you very much. And at least I admit my craziness to more than one person in the world. Unlike him. Who has only ever told me in his entire life about his severe depression and anxiety issues.
- He was just here yesterday, complaining about how screwed he is for cash and how he can’t afford to buy Isobel a birthday present – it’s apparently the Government’s fault. Every single day, there’s some complaint: working too much (work’s fault), not enough ‘me’ time (mine and work’s fault), not enough money (me, again), not enough time to drink (me, and those damn sobriety rules), etc. So, um, where’s that positive? And what the hell does he need to work to balance Isobel about? And what the hell is ever his fault?
- When he moved back in, he wanted to have a baby with me and then I miscarried. He wanted to make things work and for me to be affectionate and love him. When we found out about the baby, he said he wanted to try again. Then the next night, he helped to bruise my finger so badly, I couldn’t move it. He has never raised his daughter, regardless of whether he was here or not. He plays. That’s IT.
- He was always allowed to be the parent he wanted to be. He just apparently didn’t want to be a very good one. The only things I ever stopped him from doing was being drunk or high, alone with her. And, um, he’s still not allowed to do those. When he had visitation before, he would watch a movie with her. He would sit on the floor of my apartment with glass after glass of wine and he would occasionally bathe her when I told him to, but that was his visits. Because he chose to do it. He only went out with her when I suggested it and came along.
- The only mistake I made was letting him come back into our lives full-time without some specific agreement and counseling beforehand. At the very least. You know how I know that? Because there I was, three weeks after he moved back in, hemmoraging and not very able to stand without passing out and he was raising his fist at my face. With our daughter between us. Yes, I did make a huge fucking mistake. But it wasn’t kicking him out or filing court papers.
- I didn’t suggest marriage counseling, I suggested that we see a counselor together to learn how to communicate about Isobel. But you know, if he needs to tell himself that.
- Isobel knows like, half of her ABCs; she knows a few colours and still gets them wrong; has a few full sentences, but still is like, just communicating wants; she hasn’t been to the book store with him since the last time it rained on one of his visitation days – about three weeks ago? I took her four days ago. Kid likes books.
- He asked me today to get my lawyer to draw up the agreement and he will sign it, to save him from having to go back to court. Which will be done and it will be specific and cover any and all loop holes, including making him agree that he has gotten adequate legal advice to feel confident signing it and was offered the chance for a lawyer to examine it on his behalf.
- So then, six months down the road, he might walk into another court room and the judge will say, “What basis do you have to ask for a change in custody?” And he will say, “Because I want to.” And the judge will say, “Well, I’d like to pull gold bouillion out of my ass, but it’s not happening. Grow the fuck up and stop screwing around with your daughter’s life.” Or something to that effect.
I was seething when I read the words that were forwarded to me. I was awestruck and indignant and well, really fucking embarassed. I talked to three different people about it. One, who reiterated that I’m a beautiful person, trying to do what is right for myself and Isobel – and that he can try anything he wants, but will end up not ‘winning.’
What embarassed me most?
That he thinks I want him back. Or that he feels the need to lie about everything at mine (and Isobel’s) expense. That he has to paint himself as the martyr.
So, instead of bringing it up, of fighting on it or further dwelling, you know what I’m going to do?
File it with all of the other documentation, to take to the lawyer for when I draw up our separation agreement. Cuz you know? He’s just not fucking worth it, anymore.
