My head hurts so badly – I just wish I could lie down and not get up until the day of Mr. N/A’s death or enlightenment. I think I could forgive a rapist or a murderer more easily than I could a bully who constantly pours stress on my head like buckets of cold water.
I’m finally crying. I don’t do that so much anymore, because I have too many things that have to be done, and crying just makes me feel worse.
Actually, I guess I’m really sobbing. I’ve exhausted every tool in my bag. I’ve used up all my positive energy. I’ve prayed all my prayers. I have nothing left. I feel like a zombie.
Yesterday I got legal papers from his lawyer. He’s taking me to court for the money, even though I paid him $2000 of it and promised I’m trying to secure the rest (I am). Additionally, now, he’s trying to collect $4,930 in legal fees. I have spent over $1500 on an accountant who discovered another error in Mr. N/A’s math, and I have given my attorney a $4,000 retainer fee.
He’s also insisting on a two court orders for me regarding our visitation agreement, including the weekend my daughter didn’t want to go with him and I let her stay home. The papers look like they were written up by him, mostly, with some legal jargon thrown in. I know this, because he always messes up the usage of the words “bring” and “take,” and wrote that I refused to “bring” the children to Mass on my Sundays with them.
So fucking what.
Most of it looks like irrelevant, pontificating bullshit which any judge should be able to see through immediately. But I don’t trust the court system.
I don’t think the courts give a shit about justice. They don’t really want to hear the whole story like they do on television. It doesn’t work that way.
I don’t think they’ll care that my daughter had begged me to speak with an attorney and get her out of this particular weekend with him because he’s completely unsupportive, and she was afraid he would not take her to her regional cheer competition with her 25 other teammates.
I don’t think they’ll care that I offered him another weekend in exchange, which he has not exercised to date.
I don’t think they’ll care that my children complain about him constantly, and that I drive them religiously to AlaTeen meetings every week at their insistence, so they can somehow try to manage having an alcoholic for a parent.
I don’t think they’ll care that he is wiping out my bank account and putting me into some unreasonable debt that will force me to make drastic changes in my lifestyle or even force me to sell my brand new home.
I feel hopeless. I trust no one.