BD had accused me of anything he
could think of in his certification to the court. We both had to write up
letters summarizing our cases and his was complete fiction.
He was
asking for sole custody of our son, saying that my parenting would be “detrimental” to our child. I was furious.
It was a feeling I still wish I could have felt about a year and a half
earlier.
I
think back on some of those events and it is all too surreal, like it was
somebody else going through all that. I can’t even imagine it being me. How
could it have been me? People who know me insist I wasn’t myself at the time.
“It
was like you were somebody else,”
a friend told me. That sentiment was echoed by others.
Sometimes
it makes me angry. There were so many times when I should have left. Times from
the very beginning. It was small stuff at first. My car keys, the food ... it
makes me wanna scream at myself thinking about that stuff. I relive scenarios
in my mind with renewed strength and they play out differently in my
imagination, usually culminating with me telling BD to kiss my ass as I head
for the door, never to return.
I have
learned an eternity of lessons in a fairly short amount of time and I continue
to be taught by adversity.
I have
so many regrets ...
Not
actually pressing charges when
that troop of cops was called to my doorstep;glossing
over BD’s bad points with the psychologist, fearful of sounding like a scorned woman; hiding
the truth about my stifling relationship from the people who cared about me; betraying
a friend -- two of them;
putting the worth of a relationship before my own ... so much.
Our
trial was scheduled for a Monday and Tuesday. If it went over, we’d have to
continue that next month. We each had a witness list and a gallery of
supporters.
In
addition to character witnesses and family to testify to my latter complaints,
I had Shay and Mike, my sister and her fiancĂ© who’d
seen my
bloody nose months before. BD knew they were on my list to
testify. Our attorneys had to submit witness lists weeks before. But I do
believe their actually showing up that day was the turning point for BD. For
all his refuting my claims about his violent temper, sitting mild mannered in a
suit and tie, I had two people who could testify first hand to his out of
control anger spells. I know he didn't want the fam around for that testimony.
But I
didn’t want to go forward with a grueling trial any more than he did. I just
wanted permission to move back home with my son.
In the
end, he gave me that. The irony here is thick, though I missed it at the time.
The doctor’s report that he’d shamelessly gloated about for weeks didn’t even
matter. We sat, our lawyers separating us, at the long table designated for the
plaintiff and defendant, poised and seemingly ready to war. We stood and were
sworn in, and technically, the trial had begun, when his lawyer interrupted and
said we might be able to settle this whole thing if he could have a word with
my attorney.
BD and
I were also then directed into a mediation room with our respective
representatives where we sat for about three hours mapping out a calendar for
the next three years of our lives, finally agreeing on how we would share our
son across state lines. This is something he’d sworn he would never allow to
happen. It’s the reason we’d been in court for almost a year. He’d rejected
five of my parenting plans at previous mediation sessions and two in court,
never once attempting to amend or work from them, as they each allowed for my
relocation. This is what had been our stalemate this entire time. And yet, on
the day our trial was set to begin, the judge didn’t grant me permission to
move. BD did.
We
agreed that BD would get the summers with the baby as well as the month of
November or December, depending upon the year, in addition to at least one
month at a time during other parts of the year. An extremely generous
arrangement, plus liberal visitation.
His
concession was bittersweet. I went for it though, because while I did not fear
the judge would give my child over to his father, she did not have to allow me
to leave. At the end of the three years BD and I mapped out, when our son
reaches school age, we will inevitably be back in court to rearrange the
parenting plan around his schooling. That will no doubt be a battle in itself.
But one thing at a time.
In the
meantime, BD does his best to harass me. I swear, it never stops. LOL. But I’m
so over the sinking feeling I used to get in my stomach when I’d hear his
ringer across the room. He’s kicking himself about the parenting plan and
everyday tries to trump up some charge to get us back into court. First it was,
I never let him speak to his son. Bullshyt. I call him everyday on his planning
period at 11:45 so they can chat and again at 7:30 p.m. before bedtime so he
can say goodnight. When I advised BD that I’d been recording all these phone
calls (another lesson I’ve learned) he quickly changed his strategy. Now he’s
working on my lack of cooperation when he wants to come and visit. Also untrue,
but we’ll see. Really though, the biggest hurdle is over. I’ve moved legally
and I can’t be made to move back.
I sent
a Christmas greeting to Serita last year, but other than that,
I haven’t made contact. Perhaps it’s hard for me to accept her forgiveness so
easily because I know I wouldn’t be nearly as understanding in her position.
Maybe I’m still forgiving myself.
Haven’t spoken with Digital in quite some time, either. He used to text me occasionally and ask how I was doing. It’s been months though. I hear the wedding was fabulous. Perhaps I’ll send a card.
Haven’t spoken with Digital in quite some time, either. He used to text me occasionally and ask how I was doing. It’s been months though. I hear the wedding was fabulous. Perhaps I’ll send a card.