I left without a dollar to my name. A job that I busted my ass at making a measly $12.25/hr at. Heart breaking, sadly. I had no car and no home of my own to sleep in. I moved back in with my dad who… well lets just say I wouldn’t have been in neck deep in the situation if it wasn’t for the mentality that I needed to have because of him. Every last cent I had, I used it to buy boxes and put into gas. I was so afraid that because of how much I was making that he was going to take my son away. My son was literally all that I had left. Every bit of clothing that I could sell, I sold. Every gift and favorite item I had, I sold. I was struggling. I was hurt. I was damaged. And even though I packed up and left. I was still getting the abuse. I was haunted. I still am haunted. You would think that after nearly 2 years that this would all be done and over with. Rather instead, here I am. Fighting my way through another restless night. Who would’ve thought.
I put my everything into my son’s life… literally. Before I moved, I was getting up early in the morning taking him to a sitter every day. Whatever days his dad wanted him. I dropped him off to him on his days off. I drove on the complete opposite side from where I worked, which was less than 15 minutes from my dads home. To spend 5 minutes in school traffic and drive another 15 or 20 minutes in the opposite direction so my son could spend the day with his dad. Again when I picked him up after work. I would get compared to a junkie and was called a whore, hoe, bitch, nigga, fool, ect… by my son father. At one point I remember he told me I was a “fat hoe that liked incarcerated niggas.” I was under so much stress and anxiety, my hair was falling out faster than I could clean up the pieces. My face broke out severally to the point I looked like the monsters from ‘The Hills Have Eyes’. For months when I was living with my dad, I would wait till my son was asleep. After putting him to bed, I would cry to myself. Till late hours of the night. Just crying.
Not crying because of the words. But crying because I was never going get out of the situation. I stood up to it and let the words beat me down. Because I wanted my son to have a life. A life with his father. For a year, I had to deal with this. I had to deal with the abuse. The slandering, the non-co-parenting, everything. Literally… everything. I went to court so often I remembered the legal lingos and terminology. Yes, I went to court. I was threatened with court every time I felt was unsafe for my son to see his father. And then, over the Christmas holiday 2016, I was served a summons to court for Child Custody Arrangements. Remember that $12.25/hr. Yes, I was paying for an attorney making $12.25/hr. As you had already known. My son’s father was barely sending anything for child support if I was lucky. He wasn’t even sending child support especially when he wasn’t seeing our son.
I start see all of this from a different perspective today. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still battered by it. There is more to what comes to this. Its actually heart breaking to me more than it is to anyone else. I was pushing my way through a situation that I should’ve walked completely away from. But because I loved my son so much. I couldn’t damage him the way how I was damaged… And I see it… that some days I looked at him.. and realize that I’ve tried so hard to keep fighting through this. But today, my son will not understand all the things I went through to help his developmental growth. I know some nights, I went to bed without any food in my stomach, just so my son could have a regular scheduled life. Even though his dad has the money to provide more. I know that my love for my son is much more.