Bubble, Infiltrated

Everyone chastised me for so long because I didn’t bust my neck going after the donor for child support. While we may need money, that money cannot buy back the sanctity that has been lost. My psychological bubble has been infiltrated by the obsessive compulsive thoughts of the donor and just what crap he may try to pull. It’s affecting my sleep, giving me nightmares, now day time stomach aches…Just that smidgeon of interaction and the overwhelming anxiety of more to come…

No one could pay an amount of money that would make up for living this miserably, feeling this rattled, this vulnerable, this threatened.

I wish I’d just left well enough alone. The peace of mind that stems from not having to deal with him and his mind games and “I’m a victim” mentality is worth more than any amount of money.

But that’s just me. When the mom side kicks in, it wails like a banshee that Spook has EVERY right to the support money and the donor has every responsibility to pay it. I am her advocate. Because no one else will be. I want my day in court, I want to sit on that witness stand, and I want to declare, “I don’t care if every cent of back support is put into a college fund that can only be touched by Spook when she turns 18.”

It’s not about money. It’s about principles and making him accountable, not to me, but to his child.

Yet this insidious creature wormed his way into my psyche so deeply, I can’t even trust myself and my unselfish motives. He is unworthy of rattling me so thoroughly but the moment he said he needed to consult an attorney-about child support- I knew the can was open and worms are everywhere.

Now I dream of him taking her away. Pointing out how we live in poverty yet he has a decent car, a posh address, a decent income…And of course those around me scoff, Oh he’s been gone four years, he’s not going to get custody even if it he wants it.

And yet…It happens. And it terrifies me.

It also infuriates me that I’ve found a place to live where I am at ease, feel safe in every way, and comfortable…And everyone has to carry on about what a dump it is. Yeah, and? I’ve spent so many years of my life feeling psychologically pillaged because I never felt safe where I lived. Now I feel safe but because I have a child I am supposed to have a better address or I am unfit. And what cracks me up especially is my parents calling this place a dump when in fact…it’s not that different from the house they bought when I was 11 and raised us with sinking floors and ancient wiring and stuff that doesn’t work right. They don’t remember that, probably because it would reflect badly on them and god knows, we can’t have anyone with the balls to handle the truth.

So, guess what, fuckface family? I am more anxious and miserable now than I was thus proving…even the notion of getting extra cash every month is NOT worth the agitation this has caused to erupt.

Now I am just wallowing in more neuroses. Because Spook is six, she likes everyone, and no doubt she will fall in love with the donor, his better car, his posh, apartment, and his gf having a built in playmate for her…As if the child doesn’t already make me feel less than competent….

I am sure I seem utterly dramatic and perhaps I am. But so is the bipolar mind. What makes you stomp and throw wrenches on Monday makes you snort dismissively on Saturday.

For now…I am rattled to the bone marrow, and already imagining worst case scenarios. If I know anything about the donor it is that he never considers his children, all he sees is a woman who wronged him and he wants to make her pay.

I know many of you probably take all this as the sour grapes/ex thing cos seriously, how bad could he have been if I agreed to have a child with this creature.

All I can say is, psychopaths are very good at fooling even the most jaded and by the time you see them for what they are…

I really have been watching too much Most Evil.

Speaking of…Based on their research for that show…psychopaths feel almost no anxiety. So for all of us with anxiety disorders…

WOO HOO, AT LEST WE’RE NOT PSYCHOPATHS!

 

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2 Responses to “Bubble, Infiltrated”

  1. There is no excuse for what the donor has done. None. Zero. But, you have to do what you can handle. Thankfully you will not be dealing with him directly but I know how just sharing the same air with someone like that can drain you.

    I really need a chance to slap your parents. they are pissing me off.

    Huge virtual hugs. Spend time in Fort Blankie if you can.

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