Despite the lessons in life that I have received by being in
that treacherous, abusive, and mind-numbing relationship as a young adult, I
still wish to this day that he would have walked away when I said that I was
pregnant. I resent him for staying. I resent him for all of the times that he
hurt me. Both physically and emotionally. But most of all, I hate that HE still
has the upper hand in one of the most important relationships I have. He
continues to poison my relationship with my daughter. Day in and day out, his
manipulations and childish bullshit behavior hinders my chance at ever earning
her respect. It is utterly heartbreaking to me that she can take his words as
truth without ever giving it a thought. Without ever asking ME. Everything to
her is just so simple. Daddy’s right about everything because he loves me. He
does fun stuff. He gives me whatever the hell I want. UGH! I’m so incredibly
sick over it.
What makes that man tick? What changed? For years after I
left him… we were FRIENDS. Not just amicable, but actually FRIENDS. He would
call me for advice or to vent about his fiancé. We would parent as a TEAM.
Everything was done TOGETHER. And then suddenly, I was the wicked witch. I was
the hated “baby mama.” Suddenly, we were no longer friends. Suddenly, I had it
out for him and was apparently after his money? WTF? Ummmm…. No… last time I checked,
I was NOT a gold diggin’ baby mama. I never have been and never will be. Even
at my most vengeful state, I would never set out to deliberately hurt him or
his family. Yet, that is exactly what he does to me. Constantly talking shit
about me. Constantly making me out to be a terrible person and a terrible
mother. Spreading rumors that he hears about me without a single thought to
question the validity. And then getting pissed at ME for rumors being spread
about me. Really? How does that even make sense? I understand he isn’t all
there in the head. And I hope for his sake (and everyone elses), that he is
medicated. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to treat people the way that
he treats me. It is downright embarrassing. Especially since I defended him for
so many years. No matter what he did to me, he was ALWAYS a good dad. But what
really defines a “good dad” anyhow? This is what gets me thinking….
Yes. He feeds her. He clothes her. He provides her with what
she needs. He keeps her safe. But tell me how sabotaging ones relationship with
their other parent makes you a GOOD parent? That isn’t right. Constantly talking
down about the other parent and berating them to your child is completely
unnecessary. PERIOD. Trying to make yourself out to be the hero is nothing but
emotionally damaging in the end. Making my own daughter hate me using the same
manipulations used to control ME as a teenager and loading on the emotional
baggage is NOT conducive to raising a happy, healthy, independent young woman.
I despise the child that he is attempting to create. I want my daughter back.
The fun loving free spirited child that *I* was proud of is still in there
somewhere. Underneath this broken down and troubled surface. Somewhere in her
life at her dad’s, there is someone hurting her. Maybe its not him. Maybe. But
someone is making her feel unworthy and a burden. Which carries over to here.
Someone is telling her that she is fat. Someone is telling her that she isn’t
good enough. Someone is breaking her down and I want to hurt them for it. She
continually denies it, yet she makes comments about her being unhealthy and
being a fatty. And look at those rolls. Gross. Are ya kidding me?!
This whole thing started tonight when I picked her up. I was
supposed to get her back a little early today so that she could see out of town
family for grandma’s 85th birthday party. It was decided that I
would get her back mid-afternoon and her dad would call me when they were done
at the apple orchard. Her dad blew me
off all day. Then when I finally texted him asking if they were done with their
plans, he says yes and says he call me when he gets home. I asked if instead, I
could meet him somewhere sooner since the family had to head to the airport
shortly. He ignored me for an hour and informed me that he was home. By that
time, it was too late. The family was heading to the airport and there was
nothing I could do about it. I talked with the remaining family awhile longer,
cleaned up the party with them, and left. The party was over before I even
texted him in the first place. I proceeded to pick Ky up and at 7:30 at night,
she expected to still go to the birthday party. She was completely pissed at ME
that it was over. Did not care for one second that it was her DAD’S fault that
she missed it. That escalated into her being pissed at me for everything. She
went on about hating the “week” because I never do anything fun. We never go
outside and run around and play. I just sit on the couch on my computer. I lost
it. Knowing full well that she discussed this all with her dad, I laid it all
out there. AGAIN. Like I do every fucking Sunday night. I’m PREGNANT. I’m not
only pregnant, but also high risk. I’m not ALLOWED to go run around outside. I’m
not allowed to STAND for too long. I’m not allowed to do ANYTHING too
strenuous. As for the computer? I’m WORKING. I’m trying to earn money so that
SHE can have food. SHE can have clothes. SHE can have toys. Because I’m NOT a
gold digger that is buttraping her dad for child support. I EARN my money. I
work HARD every single day to provide her with little luxuries that she takes
for granted. I’m SO tired of being the bad guy because I have to work for a
living. Because I have to make dinner. Because I have to clean the kitchen or
do the laundry. Because I don’t have time or energy to go sit outside and watch
THEM run around. Now that I think about it, maybe I SHOULD become a gold
digging baby mama. Then I wouldn’t have to work so hard. I could just sit back
and collect money from HIM. Eh, unfortunately, I have too much respect for
myself to do such a thing.
Regardless of how I’m portrayed to everyone, I’m not that
person. I work SO hard. I bust my ass to provide for my children. To teach them
right from wrong. To teach them respect and responsibility. When my kids and I
get home at night, its HOMEWORK. Its dinner. Its showers. Its cleaning up
rooms. Its not fun time because you need to EARN fun time. And yes, I’m going
to sit on the couch and attempt not going into labor early. I’m going to
work and get those extra hours so that my daughter can have gogurts in her lunches.
So I can buy my children fresh fruits and vegetables. So I can make REAL
dinners instead of ramen every night. I’m going to work those extra hours to
try to get some extra money to buy the brand of clothes that all the other kids
are wearing, despite the fact that they cost three times as much. I’m going to make them clean their rooms so
that they don’t have the terrible habits that I have. They are not going to
spend their hours playing video games or eating pure sugar. I hate that all these things make me a bad
parent in her eyes. I hate that her dad makes me out to be such a terrible
person. I hate that she can’t see the normalcy that is there for everyone else
because its not HER normal. If he wasn’t in the picture, she wouldn’t leave
every weekend. She wouldn’t go and live in this “other world” for two days. She
wouldn’t have such a distorted sense of reality. She wouldn’t have to be
retrained every Sunday. I wouldn’t have to deal with having a CHILD for an ex. This
would be her family 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When I gave him the option
of walking away or being a part of his child’s life, I wish he would have
walked away. I could have done this better on my own.
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