Today was sort of one of those “Wowser” days, in that, when you look back on it you wonder how on Earth you survived it.
It started okay, with the boys waking me up with their chipper, “HI MOMMY!!” morning greeting. It’s as if they are as amazed and happy that they are home as I am. We had breakfast and playtime, and when it came naptime, Melvin was nice enough to babysit while I did my errands around town. These included going to A Way Out, which is a local non-profit that helps abused women and children, to use their printer, because mine has decided it’s on the fritz.
I went there toting my laptop and flash drive hoping to print out some more documents regarding my children—one a Petition to Modify Custody having to do with Lilly, since Mike refused mediation, and another having to do with my parents actually physically signing over legal and physical custody rights of my twins to me. This is because the Assistance Office, or rather, Beth Sigafoes, my caseworker, needs it in order for me to PROVE that I have legal and physical custody of my own children (again). Because my dragging my children in with me and having them playing and talking in the background of every phone call with her isn’t proof enough. This is because of an “anonymous” [Crystal Cook, former neighbor] phone call to said Assistance Office telling them that I didn’t have any kids anymore, so cut off my food and health insurance.
That’s how it works in Potter County apparently. It doesn’t matter if you are actually needy, what matters is who you pissed off this week. So AGAIN, her word is better than mine, and I have to go to great lengths to prove her wrong, to an ASSISTANCE office that is supposed to be ASSISTING me with my needs, and not accusing me of lying at every turn.
Anyway, I managed to print and file the paperwork (still no word on that Omnibus Petition To Suppress Evidence from the Judge) that I needed, and chatted with the guards for a while. I stared through the glass doors across the street to the business where Mr. Anderson works by accident while I was talking. When I realized I was doing it and finally tore my eyes away, I forgot what I was saying. I shook my head and apologized to the nice, elderly guard and my eyes stung when he asked if I was okay.
Then I allllllllmost escaped without having to lay my eyes upon Copperhead Collins, but as fate would have it, he appeared and barked an, “And HowareYOU!!” in my direction as I passed him in the hall. I thought it best not to answer, and so I didn’t.
On the way home (I’m walking, mind you), I passed Mr. Anderson’s street and fought with myself over whether to stop.
I ended up losing the fight and went ahead and knocked on his door.
He answered it with a brusque, “What’s up?”
Taken aback, I just stared at him. “Really?” I said, after a pause.
“THAT’S all I get?”
He gathered himself a bit and then I got, “Hi, how are you?”
I couldn’t speak.
I just shook my head and walked off the porch.
I cried the rest of the walk home. I didn’t want to believe it, that he really had made a final one-sided decision about our relationship without my consent, without even a conversation, and was good with that. I thought I at LEAST deserved an explanation. But NOPE. All I get is—
Seriously?? I don’t think the man had uttered those two words to me in the entirety of the few months we were together.
What I wanted to say was something like….UM, how could you walk away from a whole FAMILY without so much as a goodbye??? The kids still scream, “Matt’s here!!” any time anyone knocks on the door, and I doubt they’ll stop soon enough for me to not clench my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut before answering it.
That’s what’s up.
Also what’s up is that I want you to know that the only time I have ever been treated as something so small, so minute, so miniscule, somebody not worth caring about at all, before is in my own Horror Show of a “family dynamic” where the game never ends and you’re always being hunted and I guess I expected better from you.
That’s what’s up.
Guess what else is up? THIS girl is still waiting for you to get that STD screening that you were supposed to do a month ago for a really good reason.
YUP. Have I got a story for YOU. Next post.
THAT’S what’s up.
So I went home and the boys were just waking up. Melvin left and few friends showed up, which was a nice and very welcome surprise. I haven’t had a phone for weeks now, which is ridiculous in and of itself, but to make matters worse, a week ago my internet was also cut off, so I have been basically un-contactable save for people actually stopping by or the few minutes I get here and there borrowing others’ phones or internet to check messages. So I made too much food and the boys showed off while we caught up with each other, which was nice.
When the night died down and all parted ways but one, I wondered what the problem was. It turns out that the problem was a really BIG problem. A problem that deserved some time spent in a Psychiatric Unit with nice meds and papers to color on. After having lost one of my friends last year to suicide, I happened to have the Crisis Hotline handy and was not messing around with whether or not to use it. Guess who shows up instead of a Crisis worker?
None other than Copperhead Collins. Twice in one day. Nice. I ask him where the Mental Health professionals are and he explains to me that this area doesn’t provide that service any more.
So I have two choices—do nothing OR fill out 302 paperwork to have my friend committed against their will. I feel like screaming, but ironically I know from experience that if I do, I will be the one getting 302’d.
So eventually Collins and I hash out a plan for outpatient care that I will get started on tomorrow, and happily, I overfed the friend and they are snoozing on my couch for the night.
that’s a Wowser day if I ever heard of one.