Confession #20

One week from today will be a year since Ex strangled my son. One year ago today I was illegally evicted from my home by the wife of my deceased brother. One week, one day, one year - one moment is all it takes to derail your life and set you on a completely different course.
My son is fine though he suffers from guilt for what his father did. Guilt that he feels the way he does and feels bad if he isn't nice to his father.
My "sister-in-law" has since tried to contact me to make ammends but you know what Oprah says. "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time." Needless to say, I've not responded.
Me? I've no guilt. Not about them anyway. At this moment I feel nothing but distaste for wasting so much time on a man that doesn't deserve to be the father of my children. Anyone's children. Distaste for who and what he is and allows himself to be. I am not the pillar of humanity but I was obviously the spine of his goodwill, integrity and conscious. I can see his new wife through him, his actions. The crazy way he behaves. He's a coward, a fraud, a leech and she's the viper that is squeezing out of him the benefits of my existane in his life.
Yeah, not much here other than complete numbness towards them. Guess I'm just taking this last year in.
Today I came across a quote by John Porter. He said, "People underestimate their cpaacity for change. There is never a right time to do a difficult thing."
He's right. I can't imagine ever finding a "right time" to derail the train called, "my life."

Confession #19

Mediation took place this last week and I have to say that I was not surprised. I did feel hopeful for about five seconds during the process but that was soon dashed with the reality of who I was dealing with.
The mediator was nice but I grew angry when she tried to sell me on a deal that was basically status quo. She tried to tell me it was more than I would get in court and she may be right. But after much debate I told her, and my attorney, that I would rather lose in a court in front of a judge than to sell my soul to him. That the deal he offered would make me his bitch and that was not going to happen on my watch. That I've tried to be nice with him and Ratface. I've tried and to agree to what they offered would be tantamount to psychological suicide.
So court it is. I probably will lose, given that I live in a community that has the "good ol' boy" mentality. The judicial system here would rather lie with filth and wash each others back with the blood of those they continue to victimize rather than to stand for the justice to which they swore they'd seek for the people and community they serve.
So...sacrificial lamb, I am not. Fed up and tired, I am.
When I lose, I will scrape myself up off the floor with my head held high. I will dare the offenders to look me in the eye. I will spit on the court steps (unless it's illegal and then I'll just think about it but because I'm bad at spitting that's probably what will end up happening anyway), and I will move on knowing that I've done everything that I can to right the wrong. That I've done all I can to fight for myself and that, while this loss is painful and symbolic in so many ways, there are greater fields out there for me to fight on and the battle lost to Ex is insignificant because either way, I win in the end. I am not bound to his tierany, or that of his wives. I will move somewhere far when I'm done with my education and I will forget that they exist (except in the lives of my children, of course).
As I sat in a church meeting today I was going through my little pocket notebook and came across a quote by Antonio Machado.

"Traveler, there is no path,
the path must be forged as you walk.

Traveller, the path is your tracks
And nothing more.
Traveller, there is no path
The path is made by walking.
By walking you make a path
And turning, you look back
At a way you will never tread again
Traveller, there is no road
Only wakes in the sea.”

Confession #18

Do you remember the scene in "Indiana Jones, Temple of Doom" where the little boy accidentally triggers a mechanism and the ceiling in the small room that he and Indiana are in starts to lower? Spears come through the floor and ceiling and Indiana is beginning to slouch and crouch lower as he yells at Willie Scott to pull the lever to stop it? That's how I'm feeling right now except I don't know who to yell at to pull "the lever" to stop this horrific time in my life.
Now, I don't mean to sound dramatic but right now, my life is one drama after another and as mediation and the court date loom nearer, I'm ready to bolt. I want to bolt. But bolting isn't an option when you have children.
To add to this climatic month - it'll be one year on April 29th since Ex strangled my son. One year ago that I became homeless with four children. One year ago that I really began to realize that I knew nothing of the depths that Ex could sink.
Tie into that, finals for college that involves a section of the last three weeks of school called, "the affliction."
My itenerary:

• One month anniversary of Ex strangling my son
• Motherly duties
• College
• Mediation
• Finals
• The Affliction

Holy hell, I think I'm ripe for a heart-attack, stroke and/or a visit to a padded room. I feel better already realizing that maybe, just maybe, I have a reason to be stressed.