I don’t know if anyone noticed the date on that last post, but it was August 3rd, 2023. It took me till yesterday, August 22nd, to share it.
There has been some hard fought work going on. A lot of processing and all the emotions. I went through several days of hard hard depression, not getting off the couch, some isolation, and a decent self-pity party for 1. Yesterday alone was a ride of emotion as I dropped another $800 to my attorney and made the mistake of doing the math on how much she makes over some time.
Let’s talk about what did not happen. I did not fight and struggle against the brick wall that is Bella’s other mother. I did not defend, rationalize or explain anything. I did not mention the matter.
EVEN WHEN a DCF worker contacted me telling me that “someone” had filed a case of emotional abuse against me. “Emotional abuse” that sounded like a laundry list of 8 year old problems. “We don’t have food that is liked by an 8 year old. We withhold food. Or food is taken away. We yell. We drag the child out of places.”
Well, y’all know Angela and myself so this is almost laughable, but not when one of the choices of this report could land me on a Child Abuse Registry.
But again, guess what I didn’t do? I did not contact any “someone” about this report. I did not speak to the child about it. In fact, as far as the child and the other mother were concerned, it didn’t exist. I believe that the other mother was trying to “strike while the iron was hot” so to speak. It saddens me.
Wanna rewind with me for a sec to 2018? Recall that yes, we fought. There was yelling. I broke a plate. I was drinking. Also recall that I was home asleep in my bed when the police knocked on my door. I have maintained stupid ridiculous behavior, but no crime committed since that fateful day in 2018. I am a moron when drinking. I am not a criminal.
And so, what did I not do? I didn’t talk to the other mother about this. I responded to the report, as did my beloved. We spoke our truths and got advise on moving forward. We need a family therapist, y’all. For real for real. Raising Bella is going to be as much undoing as doing and I sure as shit need help with that. But I didn’t reach out. I did not make things worse. I did not fucking drink over it, wouldn’t that be something if that was a motive behind a motive? I stuck to my side of the street and managed myself. Full time job, I assure you.
1185 days ago, I took my last drink. So much has changed since then. My higher power that I choose to call Mother today, Mother Google if I’m feeling spicy, has guided me to be softer, more compassionate, more caring, understanding, to recognize and realize my own damn humanity. I am far from perfect and I don’t even know what the hell is best for me, so how would I even begin to conceptualize that for another human.
Hey Holly Dolly, remember when you said that you would change? Don’t let me down.
The Isms of the Ic 