Fackin Truth Blog

Family courts gone wild.

The family court system of these United States is a hot hellah mess.

The wheels keep spinning and the money keeps flying as the courts and lawyers come out the only winners in Divorce and Child Custody Gone Wild.

One man, The Angry Dad, chronicles his run-through-hell as he battles to share his children with his ex-wife. He names names and takes no prisoners when calling out the guilty - from the judge, to the lawyers, and even the social worker assigned to prove how abusive he is for doing things like.... like.... not buying the children a dog.

Allegations against The Angry Dad include his refusal to buy the kids a dog (who's gonna take care of the mutt between visits????) and his use of an alarm clock to wake the kids in the morning (well what the heck do YOU use to get up? Does the Pope come and whisper in your ear?)

Oh yeah. There was also a complaint about a recent grocery store visit. Apparently, the kids wanted a snack that he didn't buy. After itemizing his actual purchases that day, he had a healthy balance of nutrition (e.g. vegetables) and snack food.

In other words, lawyers and court appointed bots are making a killing on trying to take this guys kids. The money. Oh God the money he's spent. And the jaw-dropping pettiness of the allegations. Unreal. Go read for yourself.

I know. I know. You can't believe everything you read on the internet. But I'll say this:

1. I've been following this man's story for a long time.
   
   
2. He's quite liberal with names and locations which can be  validated.
   
   
3. And even if not a word is true, his story mirrors the truckloads of similar testimonies from frustrated fathers who want amicable divorces and subsequent shared parenting.

My sweetheart is on the list of fathers wounded by the family court system. I want to give a shot out to Just Another Disenfranchised Father, who authors the first blog that I ever read about this issue. I must flip a quick nod to Glen Sacks. Glen is fortunate enough to have his wife and children close by, but he's a tireless advocate for the men who don't.

Have you been on either side of a family court nightmare? Looking back, did the system help fuel the contention?

Hall.mark Strikes Again

So what do you say when your sweetie gives you a card like this?...

You're all that I want and more than I deserve.
I love you.
And never forget that my heart is yours always. "Your Best Friend"

Two words come to mind.

Same. Here.

Child Custody After Divorce

I must admit, there was a time I wanted to have the textbook step-family relationship with my ex-husband and his wife. In reality, my ex's attitude towards me was too crappy to hope for such an arrangement for very long. And now I'm too content to desire such a change.

When I think back to the time when the separation was raw, I remember how I hated for our son to go and visit my ex. Besides my son's fervent crying and fiery desire skip the visits, I simply didn't want to share my son with the man who marred my life.

As my mind traveled those roads, I'm glad that wisdom always prevailed. Besides the fact that I played my part in the breakup, I also kept grips on the importance of my ex-husband in my son's life.

Through the tears and protests of our young son, I was diligent about encouraging him to love his father and to be happy about the visits. Even as my son would come home with complaints about conditions ad dad's, I explained that the conditions weren't fatal and that his dad loves him. I thank my mother, who taught me as a child that having a father is a precious blessing. So even when I could have spit fire, I encouraged my son to love his absent father over and over again.

Since the divorce, I have paid attention to family law and the plight of fathers who lose touch with their children after divorce. Not only was that key in taming my emotions, but I have deep sympathy for my new beau, who lost touch with his precious ones after a bitter bitter divorce.

If this topic interests you at all, take some time and visit the Just Another Disenfranchised Father blog on a regular basis. The blog author does a wonderful job of maintaining balance while presenting the ugly facts (regarding Parental Alienation and flawed Family Law), filtered through his own horrific experience.

Now, my son experiences some enjoyment when it comes to his visits with dad. In spite of still protesting on many weekends, my son resolves to enjoy things like my ex's puppy and the new baby.

I'll never regret having a willing heart to make sure my own disappointment didn't turn my son into a pawn against the ex. And if you're a single mom raising a child after divorce, I encourage you examine the issues on the other side and do the right thing.

Life on Blast for Love

Falling in love with Victor wasn't a thought or a plan. In fact, it wasn't even a consideration on the first day, after he looked deep into my eyes and actually saw me. He didn't get lost in my breasts or flutter the gaze to my rear. He didn't run a line or act like he was the last man on earth. He simply wanted to meet the woman who matched his gaze.

Fast forward to January 2007. Victor has "flashes" of my life. He swears they're divine because of the time he spends in prayer for me. For us. I challenge the notion that God would put my life on blast and show Victor anything. He finally claims: "The next time, I'll share what I see."

Victor and I were having a conversation about nothing, much like a Seinfeld episode - only better with much more sexy. (hehe) In a surprise move that rocked both of us, Victor "flashed" and told me something that not a single soul could know. In fact, he told me two things. Seriously. While I'm standing there with my mouth open, he's staring in amazement hoping it was a fluke and he was wrong. But he wasn't. He was too specific. And it was private. And it was unknown. We're both scared for several minutes. And he wonders why the Lord shows him so much about my life. Oh good grief... my life is on blast in Victor's mind.

I already know the answer, and Victor agrees: The wonderful God who created me and brought us together wants to make sure I understand that Victor loves me no matter what's behind me. In spite of Victor's claim that his love is so true - he's getting a little help to demonstrate.

Comeback? - Part II

Back in July, I wrote a post (Comeback?) about life after a divorce. My ex-husband unceremoniously packed his ish and walked out on November 20, 2003. The broken dreams and insecurity flooded my  heart with doubts. Yet in the middle of those doubts, I made a bold prediction at the bottom of the July 2005  post.

I predicted that a future experience would resurrect the desire to love.

2006 ended on an interesting note. Somewhere near the fall, Pastors and friends could "see" a change coming for me. My own pastors (and personal friends) - who pray for me daily - came into my office with several serious messages to prepare. More specifically: "You have prepared yourself and showed yourself faithful during some terrible times. You'll be rewarded with a love that was created just for you. It's close by, so keep your heart prepared."

Flash forward to January 2007. I'm with a man who makes my heart sing. I have been fairly quiet about our relationship, because the experience was almost too good to be true. But after the countless warnings - I'm sitting here with a new love.

I was 3+ years past a bitter breakup with my ex-husband when I met Vic. He was 5+ years past a painful breakup with his ex-wife. I was content with my single life, and he'd resigned himself to being alone. We'd both refrained from the dating game - wanting more than lousy shallow conversations with people we were hardly attracted to. And one day, my Pastor makes a call to hire an electrician for a job for me... and in walks Mr. Nelson with Vic.

Victor is one of those men who shouldn't be here - without a doubt. God's grace has kept him through some serious trials and turmoils - including being run over by a car (wheels & all!) and getting bounced around the wheel well. With a claim that pulls my heart every time, Vic believes that his survival was attached to a purpose to meet me.

His own father (and personal hero) is amazed at Vic's perseverance through countless physical and emotional traumas. He often tells Vic, "You really shouldn't be here." Vic works hard and loves deeply. A hug with him is better than sex with another. He wears his heart where it can be seen, and he throws everything on the line.

Vic disrupted my life in the most wonderful way. Last week, I asked him a simple question:

"Why did you disrupt my life like this?"

He looked deep into my eyes with his medium-brown beauties, and gave the most unexpected answer:

"We corrected the fabric of time. There was a ripple until we met."

I probably don't need to waste space stating the obvious, but I'm in love. We're in love. And I'm thankful for a God who can heal a broken heart and deliver perfect gifts.

Single Parenting: The Joy of Working Towards "The Favorite Parent"

In a candid chat last night, my 7-year old shared his dislike of spending regular visits at his dad's house. I was interested in how this topic fell out of the blue, meaning the issue was weighing on his little heart.

Somewhere near the end of the conversation, he made a simple request. "Mom. Don't yell at me anymore. Daddy and Jeffrey [stepbrother] yell at me all the time. I want somebody to not yell at me."

The good parent in me agreed to this experiment. I'd like to believe the agreement was 100% desire to raise a well-balanced, confident, and productive adult. Yet the tiny devious compartment of my brain secretly wanted the "Favorite Parent" award.

My past philosophy regarding voice volume essentially went like this: I ask you nicely the first time. If a second request is required, I'll give enough grace to believe you didn't hear me correctly. The third time around... you're playing me... and now I'm fiddling with the volume and bass knobs. "I. Said. NOW."

This morning, the trial was a success. I told him once to go brush his teeth. I told him again to go brush his teeth. On the third request, I talked softer, stroked his little chin and said, "Honey, I'd hate for you to get in trouble. You're not listening. Please go brush your teeth."

After a veeeeery pregnant and skeptical pause, he declared,

"You just yelled at me."

[even softer] "No I didn't."

His little face fell as he realized that I was right. I hadn't yelled. I was almost whispering. He appeared to be going into shock. "Are you breathing????"

The sheer miracle of my sweet third request compelled him to respond. He walked slowly, almost like his feet barely touched the ground. That's the first time in all of his life that my 3rd request wasn't a military command barked through an invisible megaphone.

I wonder if "Favorite Parent" comes with a trophy or an Island Getaway?

Almost Stabbed in the Neck by a Fork in the Road

What happens when the exhaustion of single parenting collides with the personal frustration of goals not met? It's like some kind of algebra problem from hell:

"The train of excessive laundry is traveling south at 60mph. The train of a fading career goal is traveling north at 100mph. At what decibel does a woman scream when the two collide on a dreary fall day?"

My day started with an argument in the car. At the risk of sounding like a fruitcake, I admit that I argued with God. I know that sounds strange, especially to me, since my intent was to pray and give my morning a shot of be-happy. Prayer didn't last long before I started spitting frustrations, countering my own arguments with reasons to be thankful, and then returning to the Articles of my Declaration of Frustration. I had to force the "V" out of my forehead as I walked into work. My face muscles were frozen in a grimace. What a strange morning indeed.

I am actually pleased that I've reached this point. Discomfort - or outright pain - are the best known triggers for positive change. Last weekend, I came to the conclusion that I've been stagnant for several months now. I didn't realize until today that I'm stagnating at a fork in the road - mostly because I haven't chosen a direction. I'm literally standing in a potentially dangerous intersection. What a crappy place to stall and stare at a map.

In the past few years, I have watched some doors close and many more open. Shame on me for not twisting a single doorknob.

My morning was a call to play Sliding Doors. The movie-version provides an interesting look at how a single door can redirect an entire life.  My version will include the best game of hide-and-seek that I have ever played.

The movie of me over the next few months:

I'm leaving the intersection. I'm opening doors. I'm exploring options. I'm enjoying the curiosity of a child as I peek for goodies. I'm squealing with delight as I uncover things I enjoy again, like writing and socializing. I'm returning phone calls that I've put off for weeks. Mr. Washington is first. I'm entering a non-fiction writing contest. I'm accepting the help and kindness of others without feeling guilty. I'm on a roll like a boulder down a mountain. I'm learning to say "no," because only those things rolling with me won't be crushed.

Rock on.

A Drooling Veg After One Phone Call

After a single phone call at work, I suddenly have a child-free night. A free Friday night is like a slice of heaven to a single parent.

Yet somehow, my surprise free nights follow the same pattern:

• A flicker of sadness that the kids will actually be missed. Just a flicker. It lasts about as long as a flash of lightening. Or maybe half that.

• A swirl of potential things to do go flashing by my mind's eye.

• The scary realization that the list is short because I no longer know where to go for an enjoyable night.

• The "plop" into a chair after arriving home from work.

• Grabbing the remote, surfing channels, while trying to think of something "fun and single" to do.

• Overwhelmed by the actual work it takes to get a good night going.

• Brain short-circuits around 8:30pm after searching the local paper and the internet for SOMETHING to do. Playing in the sandbox starts sounding like a good idea.

• Eyes grow dim, slump over in chair, drool, and wake up the next day before the kids come home.

I am on a serious mission to break that cycle today, even if it means I have to get dressed up to play in the sandbox.