The Red Quen

17 May, 2004 Ken Uncategorized

Ever just want something to be over? Try raising a child who lives with the other parent, one who cannot help themselves but to have issues draggin you and your child along for the ride, and you’ll REALLY know what that means. Not that it hasn’t been workable for years at a time now, but then it begins again every now and then. The mistrust, the paranoia, and knowing that you cannot keep it rational or peaceful because you’re willing but it takes two to tango. And when apologies for whatever the percieved offense is isn’t even enough, and contact is broken (after getting jabs in while claiming to be civil), what are youI supposed to do with my children? Especially one who was told to at the age of ten that they can make their own decisions about their visitation schedule with the understanding that they had to live with the consequences of the custodial parent’s attitude if they didn’t keep them happy. Can you imagine anything crueler to a child? Would they understand it wasn’t Daddy’s fault if Mommy got slapped in court again for such things? How many days until College?

Ever have someone not let go of a personal issue with you after years of apologies and peacemaking and lashes out when you try to maturely walk away? Ever had your own child used as the weapon and they appear to think nothing of it yet make YOU out to not love them as much as them? Ever have someone, in nothing short of psychosis, beg you to stop hurting them as you just cover your head, letting them beat you to a bloody pulp? And not know whether it’s better for you child to see you defend yourself or let them see a parent hurt? What’s the way out? I know I’m not the only parent to go through this hell of abuse and deception … I always thought to write a book (anonymously) about it, but would rather it just be over and let go.

Breathe.

Even though I cherish contact with my daughter, I again dread it at the same time. Contrary only to one person’s imaginings, I’ve always taken the higher ground when possible, protecting her mother’s reputation by biting my tongue, but how do you explain that you’re not the wacko without hurting them? And it’s even harder because no matter what you do or dopn’t do, when they’re in this frame of mind, they feel hurt and bend reality however much it takes to vilify and blame you.

So. I don’t usually talk of this. Those of you who only met me in the last few years may even be surprised, and see a little insight into my life. Yes, I want pity. Yes, I want absolution for those times I fought back, especially to protect my daughter. Yes, I want the Adversary for once to admit they are not in control of themselves, and place upon me (projection in psychology) their own denied guilt, unhappiness, hatred, and senseless vengeance I have so long avoided. At least my wife remembers. When all hell broke loose in 1995, my wife was the ONLY one there through all of this — in person — besides the woman in question who was in no condition to remember anything. All the rest is contradictory heresay through our eyes. Even a four-year-old girl in the middle of it all rememebrs little, and it is best kept that way.

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