Posts Tagged ‘children’

48 days ago I was going to commit suicide, yet here I am. I have been in deep self-reflection questioning and wondering why I am still alive. Six years ago was the last time I had an identical plan, preparations, suicide note and the intent to end my life, yet here I am. The suicide note I wrote six years ago resulted in a published book of poems, so I again ask myself what if anything will result from this intervention. I question and wonder was it divine intervention, or chaos theory which caused the series of events thwarting my plan to end my pain and leave this world behind.

The dark part of my mental illness comes with battling suicidal ideologies. The want and need to no longer be is always lingering; internally the battle rages on between selfishness and selflessness, feelings of hopelessness and hopefulness. Do I continue living in pain to spare the pain my death would cause to those who love me, or do I finally obtain peace and nothingness? There have only been three times in my life where selfishness had truly won, and I was at peace with my decision. I was more prepared and 100% ready to get the fuck out of here. I was no longer able to function with the pain. I started working on the details of the finality of my life about a month before I planned to carry it out, but before my much anticipated release, chaos erupts and in the blink of an eye everything turns to shit… or does it?

The story on how I ended up making my final decision is long and complicated, some of it I have written about, much of it went unwritten. I feel it would be therapeutic and helpful for me to go back and fill in the gaps between the post I wrote about moving out of the house and starting the divorce process through today. I know taking ownership and facing the reality of the roles I played in all of this will be difficult, but it needs to be done. With that being said the path I was on started with moving out and separating from my wife, and ended with me moving back home, everything in-between felt like a dream I couldn’t wake up from. So how and why did I get from there to here?

Six days prior to my date with nothingness, I discovered tangible proof of some disturbing shit involving my roommate and my daughter. My roommate and my daughter became a key component for my motivation and drive to end it all. I knew if I was no longer alive than she would have no choice but to move out of that house; I knew my blindness and denial was destroying her, but it was the shattering of this denial which caused me to flip out.

I was on the phone with my uncle and after a month of planning and silence I go on a rant about what I just found out about my roommate, I reveal my original plan and introduce the new addition to my plan. My uncle calls my sister; my sister calls the cops, and the cops show up beginning a series of events that led me here. This still doesn’t answer my question as to why I am still alive. With all of this added chaos and bullshit it should have been easier to keep my date with destiny, yet here I am.

Why… the only conclusion I can come to is I have been given a second chance. A second chance at making right all the wrongs in my marriage and with my children. My final safety net keeping me from offing myself has always been the impact it would have on my family, my safety net was gone. I had lost my family, but when my daughter and I moved back home that night I was filled with so many conflicting emotions; none of which involved suicide.

I am still lost in the forest of darkness and despair, the cause and effects of that night has actually caused greater stress and worry, yet here I am. My hopelessness has been replaced with hopefulness. This may be delusional thinking, but I feel I have hit the reset button on life giving me a clean slate at becoming a better husband and father. Is this why I am still here, to be a better husband and father? Is this divine intervention or chaos theory? Will this hopefulness last, or will hopelessness return?


My intended focus this week was to break down, analyze, and apply my methodology to three single events with the intended outcome of making the correct choice. Do I stay or do I go? I have repeatedly replayed the same haunting moment of seeing my son still and quiet on his bike as he watched me get in the car to go to work. In that moment I could see in his eyes the internal conflict between acceptance and denial that his dad is slipping away. I could see and understand all too well the sadness he was trying so bravely to hide.

It is difficult for me to release my sadness and sorrow through the shedding of tears. The only time the outside world can see what I try so hard to hide, is when I cannot hold back my tears. At that moment, just as in this moment writing about it I cannot stop the tears. Many people say that crying is supposed to be this wonderful release of pent up emotions. It’s not like that for me. Tears feel like razor blades running down my face, slicing through self-denial and exposing my weakness and vulnerability. Regardless of how many times I have been told I am selfish and only think of myself, at the end of the day my meaning in life, and my purpose is to not break his heart. I am well aware I will never win the father of the year award. To be honest with you I don’t even know if I’m a good father. Despite what I am told I know I have always tried to be the best dad I could be.

After the series of events that took place yesterday, or would it be considered today? I haven’t slept for days so time holds no logical meaning. After said events the only answer to my opening question; is to go. There are only so many pieces someone can be broken into before they are unable to be put back together. I now need to come to terms with the sobering reality that I will become in my own eyes everything I ever swore I wouldn’t. I will become my fathers son. I am desperately seeking, yet fear I will be unable to live with the guilt, or forgive myself.

Children are not stone, nor are they steel. They are dirt and clay, molded by the hands of experience. There is no way to reconcile the loss of my son’s happiness and hope due to the harsh reality of my life, which I have viciously infected upon my family. Despite my frequent mental transformations I made the decision to get married and have children; in that single moment I destroyed their lives. I suppose I was caught up in the perceived human need for significance, by my own sense of insecurity. Here is where I cannot deny my selfishness. Broken dolls are meant to walk alone.

In moments like this I want to hide within the minds of Soren Kierkegaard and Albert Camus covering myself in the blanket of Absurdism. Believing all struggles for life is for nothing. There is only birth and death, and everything in between is our feeble attempt to find meaning and purpose. This concept is wonderful, but in the back of my mind I’m burdened with this question. What if birth and death were only two points, that they were inconsequential compared to what happens between them?

I am currently burdened with this increasingly ticking clock looming over my head. I hear it every second of every day; sometimes it’s as soft as a pin drop, other times it’s so deafening it impedes on my ability to function. Loud or soft there is no escape it’s always there tick, tock, tick, tock. This metaphorical clock terrorizing my mind is the count down leading to the single most important decision I have had to make thus far in my life. Do I stay or do I go?

Regardless of how hard I try not to have this internal battle; I would question my humanity if I didn’t. I have spent 15 years of my life with this person, and raised three children with her. I would delusional to think, after 15 years there would be only happy times; that our relationship would be void of heartaches. I figure the best way to analyze this problem is through a Utilitarian view point. Which decisions creates the most happiness while simultaneously creating the least amount of sorrow. I have quickly learned that making a decision as a utilitarian when there are so many people involved is damn near impossible. What I have been doing is treating each situation as a single event. I observe how I feel inside; I try to imagine how those involved feel inside. I then proceed to estimate how many times such an event has happened in the past, and then apply the probability of this event happening in the future. This is the method I have been using to try and silence the ticking clock by making my final decision. Will this methodology sentence me to a life filled with tormenting regret, or will it be the key to unlock these shackles of hopelessness I have been chained to most of my life.

This week I plan on taking some of these single events; breaking them down as I have described above with the hope of discovering the answer to my question. Do I stay or do I go?

As a father, I have always wanted my boys to be just as I was as a child. I want them to prosper on my good qualities, and be absent of my bad. I had so many fun experiences as a child, and I want the same for my kids. I was the type of child who loved sports; I would play football and baseball outside for hours with the neighbor kids. There really was nothing as exhilarating; like a pick-up game of no pads tackle football. I would never do this now mind you; I am far too old and way out of shape. If we were not playing sports I was playing G.I. Joes with my best friend Andrew, we could play G.I. Joes outside for hours upon hours, but for some reason our “wars” always ended up in a fight. If we were not doing these things, we were just outside exploring the neighborhood, and playing miscellaneous games. The funny thing is, as much as I want them to have a childhood like I did; I do not let my kids do half the things I did as a child, in fear for their safety. There is no way I would let them play tackle football without any pads, and I would never allow them to wander and explore the neighborhood like I did as a child.

When I became a father to Austin, he was 3 years old. I wanted him to love football and action figures just as I did, but he really wasn’t into it very much. He also was not big on playing outside with his friends. He is more of a home body, but I am very proud of him, for his intense dedication to football and working out. I must note I am perfectly fine with him being a home body. I think about what I was doing at fifteen, and I can tell you I was out doing very bad things. I felt sad, because I thought he was missing out on all the fun I had as a child. I was confused, because I figured all kids would act and live the way I did when I was a young. My youngest son Dylan, on the other hand is a spitting image of me as a child. This fills me with such joy and such fear.

Once Dylan puts on his football pads and jersey, he will have me set the timer for sixty minutes, and he proceeds to play a complete imaginary football game. He throws the ball around, and catches it; if he is tackled he violently throws himself to the ground. During his imaginary game he does his own play- by-play. He loves it when you sit and watch him, while he plays out this pretend game. When football season is over he turns his attention over to baseball. This kid is amazing, because at the age of six he watches entire baseball or football games. He sits and watches how players pitch or hit, and tries to emulate their movements, just as I did as a child. He is great at reading offenses and defenses during football games. He is also good at calling balls or strikes during baseball games. When I pitch to him he is able to identify the movement on my pitches. He sits and plays entire games of Madden with such joy. I am so proud of him for his intense interest in sports.

He also just recently got into action figures. This Christmas he received a ton of G.I. Joes, and loves to sit and play with them. I am taken down memory lane every time I sit down and play with him. I remember all the characters from my youth, but I am a bit disappointed with how they changed their design. I also don’t understand why they don’t offer more characters. It seems to me they just keep making the same ones with different looks. When I watch him do his thing I see myself playing twenty-three years ago. Like I said earlier this fills me with joy, but I have not yet touched on my fears.  

I was a really naughty kid, and a handful as a teenager. Dylan already shows signs of anxiety and ADHD behavior. My daughter Brianna is also showing signs of anxiety. If they are not properly stimulated they get out of control. I look at Austin, and I am filled with hope; except for his lack of interest in school he is the perfect kid. I am a bit fearful of how Brianna or Dylan will be when they hit their teenage years. I worry if they are not properly stimulated; they will end up going down the path I took when I was younger. I suppose it is karma; if they are a handful. I am sure I deserve it considering what I put my mother through. I just worry about my kids overall quality of life, and the repercussions of my actions and my DNA will be the downfall of my kids. I do not think this is fair. Why should they suffer for my bad karma?

My daughter is in the sixth grade, and she has now started to “date” boys. Nicole thinks she is way too young to be having boyfriends, where I feel it is normal and harmless behavior. I remember when I was in sixth grade, I had girlfriends and it seemed to be, a normal practice at this time. Sixth grade is just a time where boyfriends/girlfriends are just the in thing to have. She has taken the next step in life, and this is part of that next step. The question I pose today, is if she is too young to have a boyfriend?

I think the whole thing, is all innocent at this time in her life. The biggest events, which seem to happen, when you are boyfriend and girlfriend at this age, is hugging and holding hands. She did have one boyfriend, this year who wanted to take that next step and kiss, but she was not ready to do that, so he broke up with her. I am happy that my daughter knows her own comfort level and boundaries enough to say no. I have noticed, that they tend to throw the word “I love you” around the day they start to date, which at first bothered me, but then I thought back to when I was young, and that word was thrown around all to casually. These kids have no concept of relationship love, so I am not really concerned over them using the word, because it means nothing.

I also think, dating must be normal at this age, because they have started doing school dances. I again, think back to when we started doing school dances, and one of the thrills was asking girls to go to dances with you, which is what they are doing today. You would think as her father, I would be freaking out over all this, but I am really okay with the whole thing. It is not, that I am not protective of her, because papa bear syndrome runs rampant with all my children. I guess, I just see this as normal innocent behavior for a sixth grader. When I think back I was actually “dating” in the fifth grade, and I am sure things have not changed much from then to today.

I am sure as time goes by, I will be less and less okay with her having boyfriends, considering as how things progress physically as they age. I was a bit nervous, but excited when she had her first kiss, but I will not feel the same when it comes to her first French kiss. Anything after the French kiss completely terrifies me. I think I may get her a chastity belt when she turns thirteen. I may think this behavior is all innocent and fine now, but I can guarantee you as she gets older I will become the dad who holds a shotgun the first time I meet with her boyfriends.

So, which one is it, should she be allowed to date, because it is a normal right of passage at her age, or is this completely inappropriate? As I have said, in looking back at my childhood, this was all normal behavior, thus I am totally okay with what she is doing.

Tell me what you think of these songs:

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people of good will. We praise thee, we bless thee.” From Gloria Canon

“We are marching in the light of God” From An African Celebration

“Let us sing altogether to the Son of God. He is born as our saviour and redeemer. Come see the Christ child in the manger. The sweet little babe, Christ the King.” From Psallite

“Holy, Holy, Holy Lord of hosts. Holy, Holy, Holy God of power and might. Heaven and earth are filled with all your glorious works. Blest are they who worship in your Holy Name. Holy, Holy, Holy Lord of hosts. Holy, Holy, Holy God of power and might. Holy, Holy, Holy evermore the same.” From Sanctus

So what do you think of when you read these lyrics? Would you say these are religious songs? Would you come to the conclusion that perhaps these songs would be sung in a church? I come here to you today as a pissed off parent to find out these very same songs were performed by my daughters PUBLIC school choir. I was never informed and there was never a permission slip given to me asking if I thought this material was okay. I never received anything from her school. I did not find out about this until I was sitting in the stands and the program was passed out.

I was immediately outraged by this! I could not contain my emotions. I expressed my frustrations to my wife which started a separation of church and state debate in the stands of the auditorium. I am sure the parents sitting around us were either offended or amused by our banter. In my opinion this shit does not belong in our public schools. This is a clear violation of separation between church and state. You can clearly see these songs are religious based. The lyrics do not try and hide there purpose. It is just BAM in your face. I wanted to get up; grab my daughter and pull her from this performance. I will be contacting her school today. But wait it doesn’t stop there!

I was chatting with my daughter one day afterschool and she was telling me about how in social studies they are learning about Judaism. She recanted the story of Moses and the Pharaoh and the plagues that came to the Egyptian people. She went on to say Moses parted the Red Sea in order to get away. She then explained how Moses reached Mount Sinai and spoke to the burning bush, and about how on the top of the mountain God gave Moses the Ten Commandments written by Gods finger on two stone tablets. They were teaching her this as if it is a fact not a religious belief. I am all up in arms over this. I was irritated when she was telling me about this, and I had to immediately correct her and explain that these events are not real facts they are a man made fairy tale. She has been my daughter long enough to already know this to be true. I think these songs really pushed me off the ledge.

I really want to call her school and confront the principle on this subject. I will try to refrain because I am not sure how articulate I will come across. Now back to the debate with my wife. She was telling me I am an extremist in my views and that I am a hypocrite because I am making such a big deal about this. I am not sure if she really gets my point. Here is my stance. I do not think kids should be exposed to religion until they hit the age of reason. At this point I am all for them seeking out faith if they so choose. If my daughter is fifteen and chooses to go to church I will support her. If she chooses to become a Muslim I will support her. If she so chooses the Tao or to believe in nothing I will support her. Of course I would love to expose her to my belief system, but that goes against what I believe is right for my children. I do not think exposing children to religion is the right thing because their minds are not fully developed and frankly they are gullible and will believe just about anything.

My youngest son (6) has been recently talking a lot about God, Jesus and Heaven. I am not sure where these ideas are coming from but I am not okay with this. He has been told this by someone and now looks at it as a fact. I mean c’mon this kid still believes in Santa Claus so that about says it all. I made a mistake with my daughter. She used to go to this Christian daycare center and was exposed to religion. Every time we talked I had to reprogram her to set her straight. I told her these things are fairy tales and are false teachings. I succeeded in swaying her away from Christianity. She really enjoyed the movie “Religulous” which makes me think she is probably an atheist. This point is where I can see I am hypocritical. I didn’t want to do the same thing to my son so I just tell him that this is something people believe, and is not rooted in any logical form of thinking. I really doubt he understands what that means, because he still believes in Jesus just as much as he does Santa Claus. I would love nothing more than to start schooling him in Taoism, but like I said this goes against my belief system.

All I know is I am pissed about her social studies class. Something should have been sent home informing the parents what they will be teaching when it comes to religion. I am also pissed because her choir teacher should have sent something home asking the parents if they are okay with this material. I am a firm believer in the separation between church and state. God has no place in our government and sure as shit has no place in our public schools.

Every time I think I can no longer be surprised by my daughters’ mom Melissa Fleury, she proves to out due herself. This is the first time I have used her actual name in a post; as you know I have been lovingly referring to her as Satan. She was supposed to pick my daughter up for their four-hour visit two Sundays ago. It was my wife’s birthday weekend so we were not sure if the change would work or not. I told her I would let her know Sunday morning if we had a change in plans. I texted Satan in the morning letting her know she could take her. I never received a response back so I kept checking with my daughter to see if she had heard from her. It was getting close to the pick-up time so I decided to ask my daughter once again. She told me that her mom text her and can’t see her this week because she was up all night praying and is too tired to visit. Upon hearing this I was a bit shocked, but then started laughing over the absurdness of the excuse.

Melissa is a perfect example of religion gone wrong. She has always been in my opinion lacking normal intelligence. Because of this void of a brain it had been difficult dealing with her in the past, but once religion got a hold of her it totally twisted her up. Throughout the whole time she wasn’t seeing her daughter she often referred to how God was trying to “teach” my daughter a lesson by not allowing my daughter to see her and her sisters. She has referred to how she has been praying that our daughter would just admit that her husband was not mistreating her when in reality he had. It just amazes me how a semi-functional human being can be totally misguided by faith. She has gotten to the point of extremism.  

It is because of these things and others I had to stop them from talking on the phone without it being monitored. When she wrote her final letter to our daughter saying she was no longer going to see her anymore she stated how she had to pray really hard before the answer came (I am assuming from God) to her which was to no longer see her. I am not a Christian, but I am pretty sure God would not condone a mother abandoning her first-born daughter.

Either way this woman is insane. To say you cannot come and see your daughter because you are hung over from praying is just borderline psychotic. She still had to get up and take care of her other two daughters, but couldn’t take four hours out of her day to see her first-born child, which is much easier to care for then her younger daughters. The sad part is my daughter thought this was a normal acceptable excuse. I know she has come to grips with the fact that her mom is not a very good mom, but still. I think part of the reason she wasn’t coming was because there was a Green Bay Packer game on Sunday night. Her husband (Fuck Face) is from Wisconsin so he makes a big deal out of these games. I think he didn’t want to have to watch the girls so he made Melissa stay home. It has been one year and eight months since she has seen her sisters and this would have been a perfect time to allow her to see her them. I know my daughters’ youngest sister was just a baby the last time she saw her, and the other was only two. I am pretty sure they are unaware they even have a sister.

I am on the fence whether she was really up all night praying and was too tired to come and see her. The excuse just seems so out there and unbelievable… which is why I tend to believe it.

I started writing and never finished a post last week about how thankful I was for not being consumed by a deep depression for some time. I feel like it has been a lifetime since I ventured into the darkest regions of my shen. I should have knocked on wood, because since yesterday I have steadily crept into a downward spiral of darkness. I am trying my hardest to lighten the blow, and recover before it gets to bad. During this depression free time I have by no means been stable. My moods have been all over the place for a few months, but I have been void of any out of control manias or crippling depressions. The times I had hit a small mania or minor depression I was able to quickly rebound from it. I was considering myself lucky, until today. I do not know exactly what is wrong with me, but all I want to do is crawl into bed and cry.

I have been sitting here in my office trying my hardest to fight back the tears. I think this episode started when I was looking at a new picture of my youngest son on my desk. They did this new style at his school this year which I am really digging. I must say this is the best school picture I have ever gotten. I just got lost looking at his picture, when all of a sudden tears started welling up in my eyes. I was a bit overwhelmed by this since I am not one to cry. If I were to guess; I would say I only cry two to three times a year. I at first thought these were tears of joy, but then I was slapped with this gut wrenching sense of guilt. I started to look into myself to figure out why I am feeling so much remorse. I started to do some deep searching and came to the conclusion my guilt lies in my failures as a father.

I am by no means the worst father, but I can guarantee you I will never win father of the year. I have made many mistakes as a father, many of which I would sell my soul to take back. It is not like any of my mistakes have been ones of violence. I have been angry as hell at my kids, but would never harm them. The things I wish I could take back are the many small things that equal up to the big things. As I sit here reflecting, the only conclusion I come to is I have not been a good enough father. If anyone out there is a parent you can understand the tormenting feeling this reflection will cause. There is one thing in life you should not fail at, and that is being a good parent. I wonder if my kids were asked “do you have a good dad” would they answer yes without hesitation or would they need to think about it? I believe they would need to give that one a second thought.

I am trying to take inventory and convince myself I am a good father, this is becoming increasingly difficult. There may be a thing here or a thing there I do well as a parent, but I seem to fail everywhere in-between. I feel like I am not there enough for my children. It is so hard for me to just be in the moment and enjoy what I have. I am always lost somewhere inside my mind. I am either focusing on my writing, sucked into a down causing me to be emotionally unavailable, or I am consumed with distracting mania (my children’s favorite mood.) I feel like I do not give them the attention they deserve. I have cut the amount of time I spend writing by 75%, but still feel like I am a stranger to them. I feel like I have been in this cycle forever where I am only partially available. My mind is so scatter brained all the time it is hard for me to focus on things. I tend to get distracted off into so many different directions. I never feel like I am just right where my kids need me to be.

I am feeling such intense guilt over all the times I have yelled at them. There are so many better ways to speak to your children, and I take the cowards copout by reacting with the only emotion I feel comfortable expressing. Inside I am by no means an angry person. I am normally very Zen, but the minute I feel any negative emotion it comes out in anger. I cannot cope with these deep scars I have, and instead of feeling through it I lash out. I think this is a defense mechanism I developed long ago. I hate myself for not having the commonsense to just walk away and collect my thoughts. I know what it feels like to grow up with a yeller, and let me tell you it is horrible. The thought of me speaking to my children the way my step-father spoke to me makes me want to vomit. I try to make myself feel better by saying “all parents yell at their kids from time-to-time,” but this is not working. I feel like I have become the one man I despise more than anything, the man who traumatized me as a child. If I am doing the same things to my kids that he did to me, then reason would conclude I am him. I cannot deal with this reason. I cannot cope with this reality.

I just want my kids to be healthy and happy, and I worry they can’t be healthy with me around. I have failed them in every single way I possibly can. I am having a really hard time with this. I can almost feel the pain I have caused them, and it is ripping my insides apart. If they even remotely feel the way I think they feel then what the fuck am I? What have I become? I should have learned from the mistakes of my parents, and not followed in their footsteps, but somehow here I am. I try so hard to change these things, and I may be straight for a few days, or a few weeks, but then slip back into my old self. I hate my old self. I find it very hard to think of anything positive to say about my true self. I find it inconceivable my children love my true self. This actuality makes me cry in my office.

Friday was my sons’ very first parent’s day at school. He was so excited for us to come to his kindergarten class and see what he does in a day. When we arrived to his school we saw his class lining up outside getting ready to go inside. When he saw us he got this huge nervous smile as we enthusiastically waved to him. Immediately there was something that caught my eye; I noticed one of his classmates dressed in complete winter gear. This girl had a winter coat, a scarf, hat, gloves, snow pants, and snow boots. I would guess the temperature outside was around sixty five degrees! I was floored by this discovery. At first I laughed because the concept was comical, but then I realized this poor little girls’ parents had to have dressed her, or at least Okayed this prior to her leaving the house. Because of their lack of any resemblance of intelligence she is the one who suffers. I was eager to get inside and catch a glimpse of her parents so I could see this folly with my own eyes. I was not too surprised to discovery they did not attend parents day. Just like last year, I had to endure the haunting sadness from the children’s faces that were left with empty chairs next to them.

When we arrived to his classroom the teacher had set up enough chairs arranged in theater seating to accompany both parents from each child in her class. When my wife and I took our seats and class started we noticed many empty seats. I wrote a post “The Sadness in Their Eyes” back in February or March discussing this same issue when we attended my daughters’ fifth grade parents’ day. I was filled with such sadness as I watched these kids’ whose parents did not show up slouching in their seats with their heads down. The only times they looked up was to check the door to see if their parent was about to walk through the door. I think the kids then were bothered more than the children in my sons’ kindergarten class. Perhaps this is because this is the first time they are experiencing this type of setting; regardless of this I could still see their sadness. I speculate what was going through their little minds wondering why all these parents are here but not mine.

After the morning routine was complete the parents and children were all able to play a counting game, once this was finished we were able to sit at our sons table and watch him work on his letters. He sits at a round table with three other classmates. Sure enough sitting next two us was the girl dressed in complete snow gear. She was so quite and so shy, my wife tried to help her with her letters, but she seemed lost in the concept. She did not speak one word the entire time we were there. Present was another girl sitting at the table with us who also did not have a parent with her. The man sitting next to his son was nice enough to interact with her and help her along. The thing I find ironic is my son and the other boy who had a parent with him; had no trouble with the letter assignment. The two kids in the group without parents there could barely trace the letter let along draw pictures of things starting with said letter.

When we got home I did a post on Facebook about how I felt bad for these kids and asking how parents can do this to their children. I caught backlash from some of my friends criticizing me for judging other parents. They pointed out they may be single parents who work two jobs, or parents whose employer wont let them off work or yada yada yada. The conversation got a little uncomfortable and tense. I in no way tried to judge other parents at least not consciously. I cannot imagine missing these things in my kid’s life.

This will be my last kindergarten parent’s day ever. I will never have this opportunity again, so there is no way I would miss it. When you look at it this way there should be no excuse to not attend these things. Whatever work you have will be there tomorrow. Not only will this be a memory lost for both you and your child, but not attending messes with your children’s’ psyche. I would assume the parents who make justifications for why they can’t come; have never seen the look of depression on their kids faces for them not attending. I would hope if they saw the sadness in their eyes they would change their outlook on this subject.

I am not saying these parents are bad in anyway. I know many of them are shitty parents, but I can’t say they all are. I can understand the work argument. For the longest time I was a corporate scumbag whose only focus was on working my way up the latter, and trying to achieve bigger bonuses, higher pay, and higher status. I would not miss a day of work for any reason. I didn’t care about parent’s day, or any other function for that matter which interfered with my work. I look back at this now filled with regret for all the things I missed. My kids are happy I am no longer this way; I am joyful I am no longer this way,

I am pleased I only need to go to these things for five more years. I am haunted and have nightmares over these poor children. I either have a dream where I am one of those children, or I am the parent and the children appear dead and are just starring at me with sunken eyes and pale skin. I try speaking to them, but the only thing they will say is “why.” This is one creepy ass dream; I had it last year for a few weeks, and I have already had this dream since my son’s parent’s day.

Satan’s Manipulation Tactics

Satan is up to her old manipulative and diabolical tricks again. My daughter had a visit with her last weekend. She is using manipulation tactics to try and get our daughter to see her husband Fuck Face. Satan is using my daughters’ sisters as the tool to achieve this. She has been chipping away at her for the past ten months, saying she can only see her sisters is if she agrees to see Fuck Face with them. She tells her she cannot see them because Fuck Face believes she will bad mouth him in front of them. The only way she can see them is if he is there to monitor. It has been a year and seven months since she has seen them.

My daughter was severely traumatized by this man; he verbally and emotionally abused her while she was living with them over two years ago. He would mistreat her anytime her mom was not around. When she would complain Fuck Face would say she was lying and she would get punished for saying something. The punishments they gave her were severe. They would confine her to her room for a month at a time. She was not able to leave her room for any reason. Meals were served to her on a tray, and she was not even able to bring the plates down; somebody picked them up from her room. There were other punishments, but this was the major punishment which really got under my skin.

There was another time Fuck Face was throwing bottle caps at her while she was doing the dishes. She asked him to stop and he just laughed away and kept doing it, then laid into her because she started to cry. He would find any reason to punish and aggressively attack her. As an example; my daughter was walking up the stairs, and as she was walking up she woke up her mom. She was punished to her room punishment, and had to clean the entire house. In fact I do not think there was a week that went by where she was not on house cleanup.

While she was living with them, she complained all the time he was mistreating her. When I would confront them about this they would call her a liar. He would tell me all these untrue horrible things she said about me. When I told him these things were untrue he said “see see she is a compulsive liar.” They would tell me the only reason she is saying this is because she wanted to live with me. I figured this would have stoped once she moved in with me. I feel like shit for ever doubting what she was telling me.

He must have enjoyed the mental mind fuck he was doing to her, because he couldn’t even stop after she moved in with me. I started to believe everything she was telling me when she still complained of mistreatment on her every other weekend visits,. The final occurrence in March of 09 was the straw that broke the camels back. She came home very upset saying Fuck Face called her a sin child, and unlike her sisters who were born into love, and that is why they are better than her. He told her “you wouldn’t want to have a kid like you would you?” I confronted them; telling them this behavior stops now! I demanded Fuck Face no longer be left along with my daughter, because this is when these things are happening. Satan said that is fine, she was no longer welcomed over there. She has not been back since.

In November Fuck Face sent me a text asking to speak with her (after he found out he may have to pay child support.) When I told her this she started to cry and shiver. She said if she says no he will come and get her, because he knows when she is home alone. She made me promise her I would protect her from him. I have lived up to this promise until now. How do I combat what Satan is doing? I knew eventually if she kept hanging this carrot of seeing her sisters in front of her she would finally break down and agree to see him. My daughter stayed strong and would not agree to this. She would even ask why she can’t just see her sisters without Fuck Face. Her mom would just say “you just can’t.” Yesterday she finally caved in.

I am at a loss for what to do. I cannot control Satan’s tactics; even if I confronted her about this she would just tell me to fuck off. She does not want to see him but says there is no other way she can see her sisters. Should I not allow her to go with if Fuck Face is there? Her therapist wrote a letter to the courts saying it is not in her best interest to see him. The Judge said she should also not see him, until Satan and my daughter go though intense therapy together. I know what there agenda is to get to the point where they do not have to pay child support. I mean c’mon her mom didn’t want to see her until she was threatened with the realization she was going to have to pay child support. I just need to know what the best thing to do is.