Lady Drace

Tuesday I'm going to court to try and convince the county to let me get my son home. I've been fighting for this for two years, and it's been uphill all the way. There's no way to describe how much I've cried and raged, how hard I've worked, how many battles I've taken on. It's been completely unreal and exhausting.

But through all of it, I at least had the comfort of the fact that Pea's dad backed my play. We chat amicably about our son, we text, we get along nicely. 

Or so I thought.

Turns out he's been secretly working against me for months. He didn't say a word to me about being unhappy with the way I handled things. He didn't take any initiative to be more involved. He didn't ever show the tiniest indication that he had anything against me at all, or that he even wanted Pea for himself.

Then, yesterday, when I finally crack open the case notes that I've only just gotten in hand, there it is. Short and to the point. He is officially opposing me getting Pea home, and has gotten a lawyer to oppose me. That is betrayal enough in itself, and I called him, very angry, and got the "explanation" that he didn't think I'd had his interests at heart through all of this. Which is a bald-faced lie, first of all, because half the reason I even did this was so Pea could get more time with BOTH his parents, a point which I've consistently made through all of these battles. 

Then this morning I'm informed that there was a page missing in the case notes, and when I crack it open, there is an entire full page detailing all the ways I suck, pretty much all of it lies or twisted words, and I'm baffled. I'm completely and utterly baffled, because I cannot for the life of me imagine what I did to him to warrant that kind of attack. 

And no matter how blatantly false it is, it definitely hurts my case, so now I'm expecting to lose on Tuesday, where before I thought it was pretty much 50/50. 

This man has ripped away my hope, destroyed what I obviously naively thought was a friendship, and effectively crippled my faith in my fellow man. 

I had no idea. None. Literally anyone can be my enemy. I have never felt so betrayed and hurt in my entire life, and that includes the time he fucking cheated on me. 

So this is it. This is how you become a cynic. 

Not only have I had to deal with two different and powerful parties telling me everything I'm doing wrong in regards to my son and why I should never be allowed to get him home again, I also seem to have lost a friend to what I can only assume is a brief, but violent, fit of insanity. 

The universe can stop kicking me in the nuts now, please.

I probably never even stated as much here, but a couple of months ago, I got a boyfriend. And now I don't have one anymore. And I think I need to talk about it.

Even from the very beginning it was a strange relationship. I had zero idea he was even into me until he was literally planning to come and see me. (From the UK to Denmark, so not just a train ride away or something.) But okay, I was super flattered and totally into him so we had a little talk where intentions were discussed, and he called me his girlfriend pretty much as soon as I was okay with it.

I was aware from the beginning that he had a very demanding job and that he was very young (12 years younger than me) and consequently might be in a different place in life. But even when it was all new and fresh I was already wondering why he was even with me, because he expressed no interest in me as a person. The sex was amazing, even long-distance, which was refreshing, but as for talking? None of that happened unless I initiated it, and even then his replies were always very short and did not invite further interaction.  

I even asked him, twice, why he was with me. The first answer was "because you're the nicest person I've ever met" and the second was "because you're lovely." Which are nice things, sure, but not something that really screams "in love." He did claim I was "perfect" to a friend, but I sure didn't see much proof of that. 

But okay, upon further prodding he did reveal that his luck in love had so far been awful, and that his previous girlfriend had been distant and almost ashamed of him. So I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Everyone needs practice, and he was still young. He was also apparently willing to work for it, so that was good enough for me. And he also said he had some depressive days where he didn't feel like talking to anyone, and okay, that made sense.

So he came to see me, and despite having mentioned a desire to hold hands and such, he seemed weirdly hesitant when I went for it. But okay, practice. 

He stayed with me for a long weekend, and even though he had several times expressed sadness that he had no one to cuddle up to at night, and that he definitely wouldn't mind me snoring, he did not sleep a single night in the double bed I'd put together specifically for his visit. He slept on the couch, curled up and cramped. We had plenty of sex, and while it was probably the best sex I've had in my life, as soon as it was over, he was gone. He spent all the time we were not having sex either on his phone or his tablet, stretched out on the couch. 

Every single thing we did was on my initiative, and by the third night I was ready to cry. We had a talk, and I told him straight up that he needed to try and bridge the divide between us, because I was going bonkers. He again mentioned his ex girlfriend and her apparent dislike for touching of any kind, but he did spend the rest of the evening touching me a lot. He was also mostly drunk at the time, so I dunno. Whatever. For those few hours I was actually happy and felt like it was finally coming together. He said he loved me, and seemed panicked when I admitted I couldn't say it back yet. But only a few hours later I said it back to him anyway, because I really thought we'd solved whatever hangup he'd had, and that he would now show actual interest in me. He promised he'd try, and I proimised in return that I'd give him time.

I dropped him off at the airport the next day, and while there was once again some weirdness with the pda, I still figured he was easing into it after a bad experience. 

Then came a week of almost complete silence. But we'd both had fairly busy weeks ahead of us, and I'd managed to give him my flu, so I'd expected it to a degree. He still contacted me for sex, but otherwise, nothing. I struggled with jealousy because he seemed to have no problem talking to a friend of mine on Twitter (one he had previously labeled "hot") and it finally hurt so much that I asked said friend to talk to him about it. To his credit he immediately talked to me, and we had a pretty painful conversation about how I felt like he only ever talked to me when he had needs (emotional or physical) and he gave the explanation that he suffered from crippling anxiety, and was terrified of disappointing me. When I asked if he'd gotten help he said he'd tried it, but it hadn't worked. That didn't sound promising, but I put it aside for later. 

I expressed my need for contact from him, if nothing else just to show that he was working on it, and we agreed on an arrangement where he would talk to me every day, if only just an emoji, or to tell me he didn't feel like talking. In return I promised to give him more time. I even begged him to set a phone alert, so he wouldn't spiral into crippling despair if he failed to remember one day, and even though he was reluctant, he told me he'd set one. 

A week after that he was back to only talking to me when I talked to him first (Except for once when he asked for sex, and I'm not counting that.), and the first day where I didn't speak to him once, he didn't contact me at all. 

I was really hurt, because not only had he broken his promise, he had also also presumably lied to me. And that's a dealbreaker. I had told him this several times, so it's not like it was news.

When I told him I needed to break up he was not surprised. He expressed a desire for us to be friends, but seeing as he hadn't even managed to show enough interest that I would have even called him a friend if we hadn't been together, I didn't think that was a good idea, and I told him to get back to me if he ever spent some time working on his anxiety issues. 

He didn't seem terribly upset, though, apart from a Twitter update later about how his day sucked. He didn't try and defend himself, he didn't try and work out another arrangement. He just said he "probably wasn't ready for a relationship", and that was it. In comparison he'd cried pretty hard when we had our talk a couple weeks prior, or at least he said he had. It was over text, so I dunno. It felt cold and like I was being thrown aside, even though I was the one breaking up with him. I'd been so worried about doing it, because I thought he'd be upset. Guess not. We lasted two months and one day.

So I'm left with the only conclusion that I was the "better than nothing" option. He had a need for sex and someone to worry about him. My needs never even entered the picture.

And that hurts more than anything else. 

 Day four dawning of test-diet. And I've had an epiphany.

I've always wondered at the Americans and their meat-heavy breakfast foods (Here it's cereal and bread, MAYBE an egg, if we're feeling luxurious), but I totally get it now.

I don't know if it's my body screaming out for more protein, or my mind latching on to anything that feels filling, but I get it now. Holy shit do I get it.

Meat. Meeeeat.

Reading up on gastric bypass has, if nothing else, given me insight into the near-suicidal disregard many people have for their health. Like 99% of what I could find on the subject was from the US (which makes sense, because Denmark is TINY) and I know their healthcare system is vastly different from ours, but holy crap...

The shit I read about people doing before/after surgery... it's like they WANT complications. "My stomach hurts, I'm so scared!" I get that you're scared, friend, but maybe going fucking binge drinking a week out of surgery wasn't your brightest moment. Liquid diet does not mean "excuse to pickle yourself in alcohol".

And don't even get me started on the perfectly slim people who pay shady doctors to have it done, just to lose those last pesky ten pounds. I'm in awe of the stupidity.

I can barely even find mentions of health. It's all about how much they lost, down to the ounce, and I'm sitting here wanting to know if I can still take painkillers in pill form, or what happens if I get stomach flu, or if my meds will even still be absorbed, or how you cope with the dietary demands alongside other health issues. There was one lady on youtube who warned that the poop would be different, and YES, THANK YOU NICE LADY, these are the things I need to know in advance, please. 

Finding what I need on this is soooo hard. Like, loose skin is gonna happen. Does it hurt when you run? I mean, does it pull at you as it moves? And what about anxiety? Do the changes in your body change your mental state? Do different things trigger your anxiety compared to before?

And I can't find a single word about autism in relation to gastric bypass, which makes me worry that it's a thing doctor's wouldn't recommend to someone with autism. (I don't really think so, it's more likely any patients with autism find documenting it too challenging.) And what about your kids? They're bound to ask questions. What do you say? What if you miss a few meals? There's a lot of info about "dumping" that happens when you eat too much or the wrong things, but nothing about the effects of missing meals.

And I only found a single mention of taking precautions in the event of death during surgery. It's like people are deliberately ignoring the possiblity. Just because the risk is low, it doesn't mean it isn't there.

Okay, this is a tough subject.

I'm considering a gastric bypass. 

I've been hugely against it, because first of all, people do actually die from this surgery (not many, but it does happen), and secondly, you're gonna have to be checked for vitamin deficiencies and other things pretty much for the rest of your life. And on top of that, it might lose its effect in time. A good example is my uncle who had one eight years or so ago, and he's just about as fat now as he was before the surgery. So yeah. Results not guaranteed.

But, at this point, it's starting to look like the lesser of two evils.
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 Wow, okay, it's been so fucking long since I posted here, but I have some stuff I need to write out, so here goes.

I suddenly remembered today another reason why I fight so hard for Pea. Apart from the obvious, Pea loves his daddy.

Now, B and I fell apart, and there have been periods of animosity and bitterness and a lot of misunderstandings. And if I'm being brutally honest, I generally think B is pretty stupid.

But despite all of this I have never been able to find a single sign that he doesn't dearly love our kid. He adores Pea, and though I don't agree with his ways of handling the whole co-parenting deal, I am 100% sure that he will do anything for Pea if he has to. 

However, there have been incidents lately where Pea has been very sad about leaving mommy and generally having a hard time when we have to say goodbye. And today we went to a meeting at the daycare, and we went to say hi to him for five mins. At day's end, Pea was going to spend the weekend with daddy, and it's been almost 2 months since they saw each other last, and I was worried. I was worried that Pea would have lost focus on daddy, and would go immediately for me, only to be sad when told that he wouldn't be leaving with me.

But what I got was the perfect scenario. Pea made a bee-line for daddy, right into a hug, and joyfully told him that "guess what, Daddy!? I'm going home with YOU!" I got a little gooey inside, and so did B. Pea did come to me after, and one hug was obviously not enough, because it took a while to hug it out, but after that he was fine with the five mins we were there. He said goodbye without a fuss, and I could go home reassured that he would go to B's for the weekend without feeling cheated somehow.

I am gonna win this so Pea can have more time with his daddy. I want them to have their time, even if it means more bad habits to bring home. (leaving the toilet seat up for one). I want Pea to be able to talk to B. I look forward to B teaching Pea to shave or how to drive or whatever the time may bring. I want them to have that, so badly.

PS: wtf, Dreamwidth doesn't work in Chrome anymore? D:

Okay, so. Shit is being done.

Got a new doctor. Will get an appointment sometime in October, starting from scratch, hopefully ending up with a new (and more accurate) diagnosis.

I've started swimming as part of a welfare program. Started out doing it only on Wednesdays and then doing some new age shit on Modays, but I liked the swimming so much (and hated the new age stuff so much) that I was allowed to change it so I only do swimming. So from this Monday I'll be swimming for an hour every morning 4 days a week and then meeting with my social aid on the 5th. Meaning that for the first time in... a long long time I'll be getting up every morning of the week for something not related to Pea. I'm not even sure I remember how to even do that. Wish me luck!

Either way, I can most certainly use the exercise, so yay for that!

Pea is settled in at the foster family and... that's a whole other story. Suffice to say that he's doing well beyond all expectations and that my grief is becoming more manageable.

Finally, fucking finally, after over 8 months of living here it is now confirmed at last with complete certainty that I can stay here and won't have to move. I've started some minor renovations, and when my step dad retires in October he'll come over and man the drill for me so I can finally hang some things. Like curtains and a cabinet and some shelves and some hooks. I got some money back from paying too much to the electric company so I bought some drawers and closets, which means I can finally put my clothes away, rather than just having them in piles in my bedroom. I never even hung posters in my bedroom because I was afraid of getting too settled in case I had to move again. :oS

My landlord is slow as a sloth and all the things he promised me to get done back in January are still not done. At this rate I'll do them myself, because fuck, I can't wait another year to have the leak in my door fixed. My heating bill is already going to be through the roof, fuck.

So. This is life. Right now.

So, it's been ages since I updated here. A lot has happened and I think it's slowly sinking in.

Pea left home on Friday. The foster parents are super nice and call me every other day to tell me in great detail what Pea is up to. They say he misses me, but accepts the new situation well enough. Sleeps well, eats well and spends all day out on their wonderful grounds, climbing hills or walking in the forest or roughhousing with the family's only other foster child; a pre-teen boy.

They say he's wonderful, but I guess they're kinda obligated to say that. But then again, if he stays as super-cute as he was during the first visits, then he probably is a little angel.

I miss him so fucking much already.

I'm coping better than I thought I would. I haven't fallen into a complete depressive stupor, but I admit it's been kind of a struggle pulling myself together and doing things. But I try to get out of the door at least once a day (try being the operative word here), and I've made a list of fairly large tasks that need doing, which I have been putting off forever because Pea was around. So it's not too bad.

That said, I am constantly on the verge of tears and every time I have to pick up or move something of Pea's I get a serious twinge in my chest. Because this isn't home for him any more. And only God knows when or if it ever will be again.

There was a lot more I wanted to share, but... it still hurts too much.

So good news and bad news.

Good news: Turns out the lady from the county had something of a brain fart when she told me I wouldn't see Pea for six months. She seemed very shocked that she'd even say such a thing, because apparently the usual wait time is something like 3-4 weeks, and in that time I can most likely visit, so... *breathing again*

Let's ignore how she almost seemed to think it must be me remembering wrong. Uh, no, I most certainly would remember that. I even asked at the time if that could be right and she assured me it was. AND I took notes. *moving past it.*

Bad news: My wallet got stolen. There was practically no money in it, but having all my cards replaced? That costs. Especially my driver's license. *le sigh* As if I wasn't already broke. Not to mention the bureaucracy and paperwork. Jesus.

Good news: We finally got taxi service for Pea and he's taken to it like a duck to water. Happily took the trips all on his own from day one. The fact that it took almost 4 weeks to get the request through and we'll only have need of it for 2 weeks... whatever. *moving past that too*

Bad news: B and I are testy with each other for a lot of reasons. Personally I think he's just being an ass, but logically I assume it's the pressure getting to both of us.

Good news: Pea seems happy with the idea of staying with the foster family.

Bad news: 4½ weeks left...