Still processing

Cant sleep. I’m still trying to process. It boggles the mind. Because she made a false accusations and because DCFS got involved. As far as I’m aware they didn’t find anything, they just got involved. Because of all that I lose my say. Because of that the best my lawyer can do is damage control. There was no proof. No documentation. No photos or doctors reports. Just a statement made by kids and her accusations. And a society that believes that men are bad. A society that believes that men shouldn’t be men. Because there is a system set up in the courts that bypasses due process. A process that is at the whim of a judge. That you have to be completely spotless have any chance. A process that forces you to accept the status quo. Because of all this, my lawyer couldn’t and wouldn’t fight for me. I lost my rights. And it’s not just me that loses. My kids lose. They are stuck with her. They are stuck with less than acceptable schooling. They are stuck at home all day with her in a house that doesn’t get cleaned. They are stuck with with her crazy ideas about diet and food because she doesn’t have a good view of herself and her body. They are stuck being used as a shield to keep the world away from her. They don’t get to go anywhere. They don’t get to do anything. They don’t get to experience the world. They don’t get to experience life. All they know is her. And her crazy man hating ways. This sucks.

The frustrating part is I let this happen. I was taken in when we got married. Taken in by her views on ideal motherhood. Taken in by her plans for a big family. It didn’t seen crazy back then. And maybe in different circumstances it would have been different. Different people could have pulled it off. I don’t know. In this day and age? Regardless, the warning signs where there. The ridged ideals. The seemingly minor depressions. The little fights. The little fights that turned into big fights. The refusal to listen to advice. It all just crept up on me. And I just kept telling myself I had to be patient. That it would get better. If I just gave her a little more time. If I just did this. If I just found a way to provide a little more. But she just did less and less. She got stranger and stranger. Less willing to conform to reason. And she kept threatening to leave and take the kids. Little by little I got onto this hole. Until it was so big that I couldn’t excuse it away. I couldn’t justify it anymore. And I had one chance to make a hard stop and change course. But my once chance was dashed with three pieces of people that said something that wasn’t true.

My dad says that there will be a reckoning in the end. Eventually she’ll be heald accountable for this mess. For all that she said and did. My mom says I just have to stay the course and keep jumping through hoops. But none of that ends the hell that my kids are living in. None of that gets them out of squalor. It doesn’t keep them from growing up in such a socially and functionally deficient way that they become a burden on the world. I feel ill.