The sky is impossibly blue here today, not a cloud in sight, not even at the edge of the horizon. I spent my lunch hour outside on the grass, ostensibly reading but really just laying in the sun, soaking it up. It has been so wet here, so gloomy, that it felt like something close to heaven to simply feel the sun on my face and breathe in the smell of the damp earth.
Good, too, to have that bit of time to simply be. With the events of the past few months, even the past year, there has been too little time to simply sit and listen, be still not just outwardly but inside where it really matters. Also, my life is changing in big ways, so it felt really nice to sit in the sun and think. About all that has happened before, and what is happening now, and all that is coming.
Several things on top of the court issue. One is that Sam’s dad has re-appeared; he went into where Steve works last weekend, not knowing that he still worked there, and his first words upon Steve recognizing him were, “Oh, fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have some to town.” From there it went on to, “It’s all about the money and I don’t understand why I don’t have any rights and I just don’t want to have to deal with that fucking bitch.” Nice, isn’t it? So lovely to know that as usual, Sam’s well-being is foremost in his mind; he didn’t even ask about Sam. Steve gave him my phone number, but it took over a week for him to call, and even then, it wasn’t him; he had his wife call and leave a message, but with no call-back number. Later, she called again and had the balls to leave a rather cunt-ish message about how now that they finally have my number (for the record, I had the same telephone number for six years, until we moved into the new house in January. And if he had maintained any sort of relationship with Sam, he would have had the new number as well, right?), SHE would like to talk to me to “go over” the money issues, and to see if I would let the kids talk to him since it was Father’s Day. I was very glad that we weren’t home when she called, or I might well have lost my shit on her-because how dare he call after over two years and suddenly decide he wants to talk to Sam simply because it was Father’s Day? And what right does his wife have to EVEN get involved in this?
However, the fact remains that he is still Sam’s dad. And I know that Sam would love to see him, which is where the conundrum lies. I am not willing to risk him breaking my baby’s heart yet again by leading him to believe he is going to be around only to disappear-because every single time he has appeared like this, he has turned around and left Sam again. And again, and again. At the same time, I know that the only way for him to prove himself worthy of being called “Dad” by this amazing kid is to let him have a chance. It’s a catch-22 situation, that’s for sure. I have been thinking that if he calls again, I can tell him, “Okay; you start paying your child support, and if you are consistent for six months, you can start calling him once a week. If you can’t follow through on that, you don’t deserve to see him.” (Before any of you get up in arms about how awful it is that I would use non-payment of child support to withhold visitation, just-don’t. There is a long back-story to all this but the long and short if it is that I have full legal and physical custody of The Boy, which was given to me after a really long battle where my ex-husband was in JAIL for forgery and fraud charges in addition to drug charges yet I had to prove myself fit to parent. There are reasons for this decision, okay? Reasons that have nothing to do with the miserable $200 I am supposed to get every month from him. Trust me on this one). I am glad that Sam isn’t home right now to overhear any of this, to have any reason to know it; not until I know what to do, and how to do it. And right now, I just don’t have a fucking clue.
Yet there are sweet things, too-sweet things which I don’t know how to deal with very well either. You all know by now that Steve and I are living together, which is a far cry from where things were a couple of months ago, but-it is what it is. He has his own issues, which you know about, and those have in part prevented us from moving in together long before this. I have my OWN issues, too, that have contributed to this. It is so easy for me to get on here and talk about him and his issues, but it is much harder to come here and talk about my own. So much easier than saying I suck at intimacy, that I am terrified of giving my heart over to someone else, that it scares me to love anyone too much. Even though the rational part of my mind believes in all of that love shit, it is still hard to convince myself that it isn’t just going to rip me apart and shatter me all over again. And sure, that could happen-there are no guarantees. But-maybe I think it is time to simply let go a little, to open myself up to it.
All in all, though, it is pretty hard to revel in the sunshine while also brooding about what may or may not happen, without lugging around this suitcase of old stinky shit along with me. Because it is sunny, and hot, and that baggage really start to stink after a time. Maybe I can simply try to place some of it on the side of the road and make the load lighter.