Fourteen years ago, there was a nasty fight that ripped through my house. A fight I brought into the home myself. A fight I escalated into a fit of rage. A fight that eventually led to the removal of me from my home. A fight that I have grown to regret.
I’ve never actually told the story of that afternoon. To anyone. It was a really traumatic event for everyone in the house that day, and I think people just wanted to make all the bad feelings go away. And no matter how hard everyone in that house tried, they couldn’t. I wrote a post back in September of 2011 that talked about how I found a letter that K had wrote after that day, (You can read that post here.) But that was the only mention of it I’ve ever come close to talking about.
Side note: that post from back in 2011 mentions this: “Being able to sit down and apologize to his two daughters is not something that will probably ever happen. They don’t want anything to do with me, and I honestly can’t say I blame them. I’m totally okay with it. I just wish they knew how different I am today. I just wish they knew how sorry I was for what I did and what I caused them to go through.”
Two years ago, I was able to apologize to one of them. It was a great moment between us. I shared, she shared. It was something we both needed, and I am a better person today because of it. I’d like to think there will be a time I’ll get to apologize to the other daughter, the one that wrote the letter, but if not, that’s okay too.
After that day, the relationship between my son and I was different. The X thought it best that RJ have no contact with me whatsoever. The courts agreed. At first.
Eventually I was able to get supervised visitation with him, but the cost of that was so expensive, plus I was driving a car that was really struggling to get up/down the big hills on the hour drive to get there, so the visits became less and less. I had friends watch as I struggled to find ways to see him, wishing there was something they could do to help.
Year after year, court date after court date, I was repeatedly told ‘no’ by the courts. The X controlled everything. He had all the cards in his hands and used them against me. He used his own son as a pawn against his mother. As some sort of a sick controlling game. And THAT is why my parents and family stopped trying to help him. They completely ailenated themselves from him because they didn’t like the games he was playing. RJ was a little boy, not a chess piece to use against people.
All the years my friends supported my struggle with the thought that I may never get him back, and all the prayers that came my way from those I used to be friends with, have led to this moment. All the hard work I put into myself to create a better me, so I could be a better person, have led to this moment. A moment that makes me a better parent.
And since I’m being honest, I didn’t expect him to be 18 when he moved back, but that’s sometimes how things go. Unexpected curve balls keep things exciting.
Wish me luck on this new chapter. There will undoubtedly be much to report as we experience growing pains as a now household of three.
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