I am lost. I have never felt so without hope in my life as I do right now. I have been more depressed than this but I can not ever recall having felt so without hope as I do right now. I am so very weary I am not sure if I can properly express it. I am not suicidal in any way but life feels remarkably not worth living at this moment, I suppose that this darkness will pass as all things, times and people do but that knowledge does little to lend me strength.
I had an awful fight with my Father this weekend and the fight and all its far reaching peripheral effects are so painful that I can not bring myself to fully absorb the entirety of the wound.
It is all the result of foolish pent up hurt and a sense of despair. I once again was ruled by my emotion and failed to temper my passions with reason. Christ, once you have fallen from grace there is no passage back home.
My son Max was with my Father this weekend at I looked forward to talking to him at length. I can only do that really when he (Max) is with Pop because I simply disintegrate when I try to call him at his Mothers home. All my arrogance and defiance vaporizes when I make any attempt to do that, I don’t know what is wrong with me but I just can’t. It is inexplicable and disgraceful that I live in such “fear” but I fall to pieces and I am at a loss to explain why this is.
That issue aside, I asked my Father to call me when he picked up my son or at least when they arrived at his home(My Fathers) on Friday. No call came so I called there myself and was told he was already in bed (Max). This is unusual (It was only a little after 9 pm) but not anything weird so while I was disappointed I understood. I told Pop just to give me a call in the morning when they all got up and about Saturday.
When 3pm my time (Pacific)-12pm(EST) came with no call I once again picked up the phone and was told my son was not there he was out with my stepmother at the bank. It was at this point I started to become irritated but I am used this sort of thing so I blew it off and asked for Pop to call me when Max and Joyce (My stepmother) returned. In a somewhat ill tone of voice Pop told me he was leaving and wouldn’t be there when they returned…Fine…My Dad and Joyce are linked at all times by cell phone/walkie-talkies, why he couldn’t communicate to “Mammie” (Urrg) ,as Joyce likes to be called for reasons only clear her and her hive, the message I don’t know but I didn’t say anything…That is a reoccurring problem in my life…not saying anything when I clearly should. In any case I let this roll off my back and sat back to wait for the call I was sure would come.
I occupied my time setting up Bruce’s (My very eccentric father-in-law to be) computer home network (One of many side jobs I am highly unqualified for that I take on to get by) so I was a little distracted when Pop finally called.
He called to tell me Max didn’t want to talk, a line I have heard all to often in the past from my ex-wife…I guess it is a sore spot with me. The boy is 5 just put him on the goddamn phone. I just wanted to hear his voice. I was so upset I didn’t really know what to think. Pop has always been so good about helping me keep the tenuous thread that exist (If just barely) between Max and I, this was a bit of a shock. I hurriedly got off the phone before I started crying and what my father said began to sink in. The more I thought about it the more upset I became. The combination of stress, fear, and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness surely exaggerated how I saw the situation but I still think I had every right to be ill.
About a half hour after the call I just couldn’t stand it anymore and I foolishly decided to call Pop back before giving myself time to cool down and see things without a head full of injury.
“Dad, let me get this straight…” I said to my father.” You called to tell me Max couldn’t talk…” couldn’t the same message be conveyed by not calling at all? Dad took on some attitude and so did I. It was my feeling that I was Max’s father if I told him to put Max on the phone then that was what he (My Father) should do…no questions asked…I outrank him! Lol! At least that is how the situation stands right now and will until the Banks clan (My ex-family-in-laws..is that a real term?) finally completely separates Max from me in fait accompli. That sentiment is not polite and there are those who would say it is complete arrogant garbage but none the less that is how I felt. I am weary of the abuse and filth that has been slung at me ever since my nervous breakdown at the time of my divorce. I just have no room for the lies, hypocrisies and disrespect I have been subject too for all to long now.
The levy burst. All the rage and disappointment at my Father not standing up for me when he should poured out. All the pain of standing alone when I was crucified and vilified unjustly while my sole living parent stood silently by set me on fire as one harsh word followed another. It was a maelstrom as my father and I are pretty much no different in temperament and I held nothing back. I felt so betrayed and defeated. I regret little of what I said only how I said it and well I could have surely timed it better.
It is done now and nothing can undo the damage. It saddens me on so many levels as I examine it here in the following week. Over the past year my Father and I were slowly rebuilding a relationship that earlier had seemed so lost…that cuts me to the bone. I burned the only bridge to my son I have ..had ..and drove my own Father to ally with those who would as soon see me in the grave as have access to my son. I hope he knows with what devils he aligns with. They are not evil but they are wrong. That is a rant for another time. I try not to say anything to ill of these folks difficult as that can be even when the favor is not returned. I become physically ill when I think of the nasty mis-guided things I know are said of me. I have little faith in justice but perhaps one day the truth will be brought to light and there can be peace.
I realize now I will lose in any battles I engage in with my ex and her family, I have no idea when if ever I will be allowed to see my son again and I fear the damage that will fall upon my new family especially the new child on the way. I am sure they will bring down grief if the at all can and do so believing what they do is just. I can make no argument that will so much as dent the armor of righteousness that surrounds their view. Iwill have to enter this battle knowing I will lose. There is an old Irish proverb that says something to the effect That knowing you will lose is no reason to avoid the fight. There is another too … “This is not a happy tale, it is an Irish tale”…
Shanzi took this pic of Little CeCe and damn if it's not one of the best photos I have seen in recent mem.
