I’m sitting here at my desk pretty close to hyperventilating as I type this. Tears are streaming down my face and the raw, honest truth is that in this moment I am fucking terrified – yet I know I have to find my breath and my strength for my son and for my family.
So I’m typing the anxious thoughts out of my head. Because writing is my greatest strength, I’m hoping once I hit publish on this blog post I’ll have worked my way through the panic and gotten my mojo back.
Wednesday I will be headed to court to battle my ex in order to keep residential custody of my son. It’s insane to me that this is even happening, but it is.
I didn’t start this. I didn’t want this. And all I can do is buckle up and hope I survive the ride.
I’m not afraid I will lose, because in a way I’ve already won. My ex already had to back down from his original demands knowing full well he would not get them.
That’s what happens when you underestimate your opponent, and he surely underestimated me.
While I’m confident a judge will shoot down his latest proposal, anything can happen. But if losing a few hours with my son every other Sunday is the worst thing that could happen when I walk out of that court room Wednesday, I’m ok with that too.
Because I’ve already won half the battle even if I don’t win the war. I stood up to a man that used to intimidate me, and because I stood up he now knows I can’t be bullied anymore.
So what am I so terrified of then? Words.
Sitting in that court room Wednesday and listening to whatever bullshit claims my ex and his witnesses make about me as a mother will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It’s been hard enough reading accusations over and over again on paper while rifling through legal documents the last three months, but hearing them out loud and giving them an actual voice?
Fuck that shit.
Those words will surely ring in my ears again and again and again if I don’t figure out how to ignore them – and I know all too well that my ex’s words are capable of taking me to a very dark place.
It took me months to climb out of the dark after our separation nearly five years ago, and I don’t want to ever find myself there again.
So I have to be strong and cover my ears. And I have to remember that even if I overhear some of the things they say through my ear muffs, their words do not define me.
I’m not perfect, but I’m enough.
Breathe. It will all be over soon.