My thoughts are repelled from my mind as I look at this screen, a slow blinking line engrossing the white page like a blot of ink splattered on a piece of paper, slowly getting bigger. Perhaps I’ve been reaching out for far too long, stretching myself too thin, so thin that the cracks are starting to feel irrepairable, and my once strong suit of meat, now evolving into a husk of brittle skin, and broken bones. Metaphorically, of course. I haven’t broken most of the bones in my body, except for cracking my head open, breaking my arm, and quite possibly chipping the bones in my toe with how many times I’ve stubbed them, but hey– can’t always win, can we?
What is winning anyway?
When I was young, I thought winning was being happy, getting some satisfaction from the exhausting sentiments throughout our lives. I used to think that it is the happiness you get from pushing through, and coming out on top, you know, that feeling you get, when you feel like you’re breathing fire, when it should set you on fire. That kind of feeling, exotic, your body’s attempt at standing strong in the face of peril, whether it be physical, emotional, or spiritual pain.
I’d like to say that over the last couple of months, over the last couple of years I have gain a terribly beautiful amount of satisfaction from pushing through the nitty gritty dirt, and though I’ve sometimes dived into the mud head first, and certainly got my hands dirty, I always remained clean.
I don’t know what it is, my soul can be breaking, but still, my presence seems to make the most derelict of souls safe, and that’s referring to the alive ones.
You know something though, the fated pleasures of life, have very little flavoursome memories in my mind. Moreso, I feel not better, not stronger, but aside from the fact that I feel like I’m surviving, I feel nothing, numbness.
Now, I’ve taken my mask off, for as long as I could.
I’ve tried my best to be an open book, for as long as I’ve been able.
I’ve tried to be the best I can be, in friendship, to family, to myself, and though some people have been there for me, and some people will remain to be there for me, I can’t help but feel a gap in my heart grow bigger every single time that someone takes a piece of me, too big, or gives too little in return.
I’ll tell you a secret about me.
When I meet someone, and we talk to each other, and I don’t mean the ridiculously repetitive musings of a generic facebook conversation, I mean really talking… they take a piece of me with them, some of the things I say, stay with them, and it is the same for me, with them. In fairness, being an overloaded mess of empathy, I usually give a bit more, than I am offered, so I do often feel a bit ruined.
I’ve fallen in love twice in my life, and the person I did not fall in love with, but developed feelings for over time, was the one who truly shattered my perception of people, and very recently, destroyed any reservations I’d had; and any inkling of decency I saw around me.
Basically, if you’ve followed my blog over the year I’d written this, you’d know that I have full custody of my daughter, and I’m a single dad, who has sole-custody of my daughter. That means, the mother has very little to no contact. I’ve written about the reasons why.
You know what though? I’m a fool, who tried to fix the relationship between my daughter and her mother.
Oh, how tears stream down my face thinking about it.
And, you know what, there has been a recurring pattern of going to bed crying, or one minute feeling like I’ve beaten the boss at the end of a leve, but still feeling like I’ve lost too much in the process to stand smiling.
I feel run down, feel like a dimished flame, scurrying for oxygen to ignite myself back up, but to seek oxygen, I have to feed, and right now, I wonder whether this oxygen is poisonous…
I feel like I’m standing on pockets of earth, shakey ground, and I think it’s changed my opinion on everyone, and everything.
There have been some good eggs around, and some really decent people, that have let me cry on their shoulders, or who have stood by me, without asking questions, and without asking too much of me, but simply standing, allowing me to lean on them if I feel weak.
I’ve done that, leant on the shoulders of one or two people close to me, and I will thank them for it so much so, right now, and in the future, and it is people exactly like them, exactly like that, who will stop me from every giving up.
So, like a double-edged sword, trust is a fickle beast that tricks you as much as it serves you.
I took the advice of a few poeple, and the advice of my way of living… and that is to give second chances, to try and try, until you break. And damned if I’m going to let this break me, but still… it brought me to my knees for a moment, longer than I had hoped.
After signing myself off for the week, yet still attending lessons, as well as seeking out a counseller, I have to prepare my mind mentally for a battle which is ahead of me.
The mother of my daughter saw our daughter once in the last year and a half, and that was on my daughter’s birthday. It went well, and came a long way from the last time, so I started to feel a little easier, but I wasn’t about to make the mistake of starting contact again. So, what I tried instead, was to make contact in a contact centre. This was her job, for a while, to sort it out. That was until she seemed like she was taking forever. So, I looked into it, because I want my daughter to have a relationship with her mother, and I’m certainly not going to be the person to strip that away.
So, I was to meet her, in a public place, and it went fine, we planned contact, arranged the fees, and went to move ahead.
That was, until I went home, and she found my address, and tried to break in. When she failed, she walked away, cursing my name, and I won’t go into too much detail, but what she did after that, has sent me back here, to a place where I didn’t expect to find myself any time soon, a place where I wrote much pain down, on this blank page.
Last Friday, I was arrested due to a false allegation of assault, and the mother went so far as to cut herself, purposely, so imagine a person who pre-meditatedly thought about cutting herself, hoping it was enough “Evidence” to get me out of the picture…
No, it couldn’t have been, could it? It had to have been some sick joke, some sick lie, or some sick prank that went too far. No, I was arrested 1am, and held for 17 hours, where I paced around my cell, seeking out answers. My mind was stretched around the room as if it was writing on the walls itself, and I was shocked, stunned, and very, very, very dissappointed.
I couldn’t cry at the time, I couldn’t shed a single tear, and I kept my manners, and told everything how it was. There was no need to lie, no need to play games, I did nothing, and as proof of that the charge was dropped.
The thing that did not lay intact, was my respect, pride, and belief that people can be better than what they pretend to be. I really couldn’t believe it, and though I write these words with tears streaming down my face, I write them with the conviction of a scrunched up lip, and a belief that someone, somewhere out there will relate to this, because I’ve never felt so oppressed.
From a few words from a woman, no testing of DNA, no touch. no evidence, no recording, and when she was being the violent one, she still managed to have such a sway by lying to the police about me… just because she is a woman. I don’t mean to belittle women, or play the gender card, but I’m tired. I’m tired of being looked at as if we get everything so easy because we’re men.
I’m tired, of being laughed at, when I’ve told people I was attacked by this woman. I’m tired, so fucking tired, of believing people are not capable of such terror, and I didn’t believe they were, until this day. Sure, you see it on the news, but unless it personally happens to you, you don’t feel it in the same way.
It is the first time that I have felt truly helpless, and I saw my life flash, not because of an impeding death, but because of a bias jury. I have an aim to become a teacher. I have an aim to be, in which I hope I am, and continue to be the best father I can be, and that was almost taken away from me in a single night. Just because I allowed myself to be vulnerable, and open, and tried too much.
You know, I got scoffed at when I told people that the mother wasn’t around, and that I stopped her from seeing my daughter because she attacked me. I get scoffed at, accused of being villanous, a horrible person, and so far as to be called a monster. Usually, out of fear by single mothers who fear the same thing will one day happen to them, perhaps… but perhaps, because it’s just so damn different.
Now, personally? after the mother of my child tried to take everything from me, without a single shred of hesitation, as far as I’m concerned she is dead to me. Dead. I may be floating, and may be without solid ground to stand on… but I hope that the support of the people around me is enough to stop me from floating away… and keep me grounded until I can walk on solid ground once more.
Now, though I’m struggling, and have been getting anxiety, I have to mentally prepare for a battle ahead of me. A battle to get an order in place to make sure something like this NEVER happens again… and believe me… once I get my feet on the ground, I will be like the wolf I always write about, and stand stronger than ever…
It’s funny, isn’t it? How you can make yourself feel better from a few words, scattered across a blank page…
“If you’re going through hell, keep going”