I'm sure it's pretty clear what happened. The struggle I have with using a journal to keep track of my moods from day to day is that I rarely have the motivation to write when I dip into a low. I think I'm missing out on a lot of useful information, a whole other perspective which might help me more. Still, though, it's the nature of the beast. If I had the energy to write, well, I wouldn't really be that bad off, would I? At least we can measure the time between postings to know how long a low lasts.
It wasn't, like, TERRIBLE. I was aware, and I noticed a distinct change in my energy. It was like one bad thing happened and everything else started to follow suit. I know we attract what we focus on, and that's why starting a day off with a negative thought can have a snowball effect by attracting more negativity. Just knowing this, though, wasn't enough to reverse the tide.
I really think I did everything I knew to do to increase my positivity, but it was like a slow roll to the bottom of the hill and I was just in the barrel. At least it wasn't devastating. I did what I could to focus on things I am grateful for, look at the silver lining, keep my head up, and never give up. I was using all my techniques, they just weren't quite touching it. First, I stopped doing yoga. Then, I started sleeping more. Then, I went incommunicado -- posting less on facebook and failing to respond to calls or texts. My numbers at work started dropping. I started having bad hair days. My car started acting funny. I got so discouraged, I knew that the onslaught of unfortunate events was set into motion by me. But how to reverse it...well, I couldn't really figure that one out.
I think everything really came to a head when Blair and Rachel got the notice of hearing to terminate the guardianship. It arrived, as luck would have it, on Christmas Eve. One day before we were all to go to my parents' house and have a family Christmas together. At first, my brother was yelling and Rachel was being a total bitch. She was sending me these texts saying if I want to fight dirty, they can bring up my past. (Really? I thought we were a team...now that you see I'm serious about taking MY OWN CHILD back, your true colors show...interesting.)
Blair, at first, said he was going to go for full custody and said I wouldn't see my son until we went to court. Although I knew that dick move would backfire on him in court, keeping my son from the mother he adores for no good reason but to spite me for daring to want to be a mother, it was Christmas Eve. It was awful. I felt trapped, and scared, and everything was surreal. I felt like I was in a movie. Then, my brother called back and apologized for losing his temper. Here's where the story I tell everyone else and the story I know to be the actual truth diverge.
When he called back, I know he was just putting on his "good cop" act. I really believe this whole thing was set up from the beginning, that they always had the intention of going for custody, that this was set into motion and orchestrated long ago, and their secret meetings with the lawyer without me and the mysterious paper filed without a hearing are part of some underhanded scheme to pull one over on me.
If I fight them, though, and don't win...how much emotional damage would it do to my son? Because you know, after pissing them off, if they have to win like that they'll be spiteful. Am I really that confident that I can beat them? I know there's no reason I shouldn't have custody. I have reached out to several lawyers and tried to formulate a plan. But now I'm faced with a decision -- pay for a lawyer, risk Andrew getting 50/50 custody or worse, them getting full custody, tearing my family apart (because no one knows what snakes those two are but me) or swallow my pride and concede, only for the sake of my son. I couldn't bear for him to withstand any more trauma. But I am desperately praying and sending out energy that something else will happen. I have never wanted divine intervention in my life so much as at this moment.
We talked about it at Christmas and made a plan to transition Tristan back to me by summer. Since I'll have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, I'll start by picking him up Monday after work and keeping him until Wednesday night, taking him to school Tuesday and Wednesday. When I get paid Friday, the first $100 is going toward them so they can't ever say I've done nothing for him (even though Rachel has refused every time I've offered her money -- and I know that was just so she would be able to say I never gave them money). If they don't end up holding up their end of the bargain, I can take them to court at that time, prepared with a lawyer. For now, I've agreed to cancel the hearing.
The only thing that gives me any solace about them trying to steal my child is that they are at least taking good care of him. They may hate me, and I can't say they are my favorite people either, but we DO all love Tristan. I know he wants to live with me, and I want him to live here too. I know that he has a good life but he lives with the same stress that I do about being separated from each other. But no one knows what tomorrow will bring, and all I can do is continue to put forth my very best effort to be the very best mother I can be, and ignore Rachel's bitchy criticisms because I know her issues with me are more about her than they are about me. Nothing is ever good enough for her, and I don't care about impressing her anyway. I know I'm more than good enough for my kids, and that's all that matters.
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