Why Do I Care? Because I Care.

So the custody thing is doing what it’s doing. We’re basically in a holding pattern. We talk to him and he’s scheduled to come stay with us this summer.

So why do I care about what M’s mother does? Especially when it repeatedly breaks my heart?

I think part of me is scared. Worried that she’ll figure out some loophole that convinces the state to place him back in her care. I know she loves him but she doesn’t do what’s best for him and that’s just the facts of the matter. Anyway I was tooling around the internet and I realized that she is selling many things from her home. (She doesn’t get child support anymore so I imagine she’s hurting since she lived off of that.) Anyway to my point: people have given M gifts over the years and she’s claimed that someone stole them or he broke them because he’s schizophrenic and out of control (not diagnosed as such even though she’s been pushing for it for years) or that he damaged them somehow. Some of these things are the things that she’s selling. These are toys and pieces of clothing he’s asked about and she’s told him they got stolen or things other people asked about because they wanted to know if he enjoyed them and she lied and said they were broken.

At this point, unless she comes into a money tree or wins the lotto what she does is immaterial. But I still care about what she does because I care about M. People who love him wanted to share pieces of themselves with him and she prevented that and for what? Because they said someting she didn’t like? (That’s why M doesn’t have Mr. G’s last name by the way.) Because she wanted some money for smokes? I feel like she’s played fast and loose with his childhood and as wrong as I know it is for me to hate someone…I hate her for it. There’s over 6.5 billion people in the world she couldn’t find a man to love her who would love her child as well? She’s the person who is supposed to love him the most because she knew him first. And she’s selling his memories.

I hate that this bothers me so because there’s nothing I can do about it. And I hate that I can’t shake off this compulsion to look and see what new fuckery she’s committed now. And I hate that even now at his age he asks why his mommy won’t take care of him. Excuse me used to ask, he’s stopped asking now.



Everyone has choices. And options. And all of mine are spinning around and around in my head. I can’t shut it up and I can’t pick a path. My fear of doing the wrong thing is my greatest enemy. And it’s just this giant ass loop of “omg how is this gonna go” and “holy fuck it’s been 6 months”. I’m just…I’m burned out by my thoughts. There’s just too many of them and it’s not like all of this obsessing is going to do anything to help me.


There’s so many emotions in my body. Sometimes I can barely focus on the simplest of tasks because all the emotions are swirling and swirling and rushing around…it’s like they’re about to bubble up and burst through at any moment. And then they’ll stain the world and everyone will look and back away, deathly afraid of getting the stink and stain stuck on them.