Hat Trick: Game Over

Can't deicide to laugh, cry, or vomit.

I'm going with all of the above.

We've spent literally years prepping for the Trial of The Century, (at least in my life) thousands of dollars in lawyers fees, court costs, delivery fees, appearance fees, time, energy, tears, blood, and sweat - culminating in today's appearance.

Yesterday, B tried to overturn the RO I have in place, guarding both Fox and I, from him for at least 100 yards. 300 feet isn't really enough for me, but beggars can't be choosers. He tried to cite statements from people he didn't know, documents he obtained, shall we saw, on the shady side, all in an attempt to make me look bad.

To a certain extent he succeeded: I left feeling bruised, battered, exposed and vulnerable - triumphant, as the new judge did not overturn the original finding of an RO extending until October 1st of this year; but he'd managed his intent: make everyone else look at me as though I'd totally lost my mind, never to be found again. Unfit. Pathetic. That all of the things he did while we were married, he didn't do - all were a figment of my imagination. FYI: they're not. He prefers them to be "unrecalled". Honestly, how do you admit to trying to kill your wife, the person you love the most repeatedly? Or that you shook your son? Threatened a dog with a handgun, as she peed on the rug, but he was convinced she did it on purpose. All those moments flash through my mind, every single time I see him. Give Fox to him. Pick up Fox, thankful he's still in one piece.

Naturally, the question as to why he only had visitation for 30 hours a month came up; a visitation schedule he requested, mind, to which he had no answer - he cited financial restraints. If he was so concerned about his son, how did he not seek custody prior to now? He cited financial constraints again. Um-huh. I'm not sure any amount of money could keep me from my child. Maybe, that's just me.

Today dawned slightly cloudy, with brilliant sun floating through, dancing on the blinds, as I showered, dressed, dithered over hair placement, where H was going, if he was packed up enough, did the dog have a long walk - anything really, to put off the inevitable: being in the same space as him. He still sends every hair on my body into orbit; my goose bumps get goose bumps. I can tell you where he is in a room, based on where the hair starts to rise.

I didn't arrive at the court house alone; didn't walk into the courtroom alone, but I was alone, my attorney and I, at the table. I feared the worst - not, mind you, that I could articulate what that was - but preparing for this nebulous "worst" anyway. We'd asked for the grand slam: termination of visitation, upping child support, sole legal custody. We got that, and more - neither one of us may put in another motion to modify our "agreement" without court approval.

I could've taken pleasure in her not allowing him to speak, or telling the three of us at the tables she wasn't interested in hearing the long, drawn out process of a trial; not at all concerned with He Said She Said testimony. Didn't want to see his illegally obtained documents from DSS, or hear about his supposed "witness"; she allowed my attorney to run through the pertinent facts, looked at our outlined exhibits, commented on his ability to swear at me, name call and degrade me while demanding what he wanted via email - only to then hand down the judgement:

I. Won. It. All.

My knees shook behind the table in my gorgeous black Anne Klein pumps, with the flattened bow -to match the suit I had on, complete with my I'm Going To Win red shell - not that I really believed that. I've lost for so many years to him, I'm still in shock that I won.

Could explain the tears. A big part of me still wonders why I and Fox and weren't enough for him to get his life together; why he couldn't be the father to him he is to Riley; why, why, why. I feel guilty that he won't see H, even though I know that's for the best, because really? At the end of the day? I still wonder if any of it is my fault. Maybe if I'd been better at somethings, or not as good at others, I could've avoided this moment: the one where his son is gone to him. That emotional hell of how could I do that to him? warring with the intellectual truly, this is the best, for everyone. I still feel like hell. I still question. Wonder. Wish that he'd gotten his life together, that he'd proved he was capable, willing, and able! to be there, as a father - a dad - should be for his child. Be there for me. RIght some of the wrongs he's committed; fix some of the things he's broken.

I know that's not the case.

It's beyond repair.

I have to face Fox, tell him, his big brown eyes, long lashes playing against his cheeks as he blinked in the sunlight that he and Daddy wouldn't be hanging out, or chatting anytime soon; he was okay with that. He didn't want to see daddy for a long long time, not until he felt safe with him again. Until daddy stopped lying, threatening me, scaring him that at some point, I just wouldn't show up to get him, I'd move out of the country without him, I'd never wanted him in the first place.

Everyone thought it was a joke that I'd rather leave my child with a stranger in an airpot while I nipped into the ladies rather than leave him with his father for a weekend. It's not.

Expecting a less than enthusiastic response, one of anger that I'd stolen daddy away, or .. whatever...he visibly relaxed. Told me he was relieved. Broke. My. Heart. How many kids are okay, even happy? about not seeing a parent? I'd be beyond devastated. I'd - I can't even fathom that possibility. Perhaps that's where the guilt stems from - right there: the fact that I cannot imagine my life without him. Without his smile, his sarcastic sense of humor, how he wakes up raring to go in the morning, while I rather idle along, until hitting second gear - the cards he makes, the flowers (mostly weeds) he picks me, as he knows I love love love flowers; I literally don't know how I'd get through the rest of my life without him.

I took that away. Me. I went to court, laid out the facts, got what I wanted.

Having a hard time delineating between what he did to put me in this position, versus what I'm doing to get out of it.

Don't misunderstand: its very clear what he did. Repeatedly. Violently. Relentlessly. Consequences don't apply to him; they never have. He's always been above the law. He'll tell you that himself, you needn't only listen to me - he's part of The Superior Race.

I'm not good at standing up for myself; never have been. Hello! That's what I've been working on nearly a year now - I stood up for both of us. It should feel good. It doesn't. Goes against everything in me, to not bow down to someone bigger, stronger, meaner, more powerful - even if they only have power because I never knew any other way of being.

Leaving the courtroom, stunned, literally stunned, we went to have a cocktail and some lunch - finding me in tears, that I can't fix this, I can't fix him. I don't love him anymore, I've not for a long long time; hell, I don't even like him. I don't respect him. If I'm totally honest?

I don't even know him.

But I knew who I thought he was, the kind of parent's we'd be, those moments, etched in time and on film, of holidays, birthdays, Just Because I Had The Camera days; the kind of family I didn't really have growing up.

We always want more for our children than we had for ourselves: today, I took the first HUGE step in securing a better future for Fox. I saved him for being raised in fear.

For the first time ever, I saved us both.

One day, I'm sure, it'll feel great.

Until then?

I'll try on this new found freedom the same way kids play dress-up: put all the proper pieces on, totter around in high heels seven sizes too big, give wearing a big girl bra a whirl. Maybe I'll go to dinner, with someone - anyone - without having to sit with my back to the wall, knowing where all the exits are, planning an escape, should he appear.

Maybe he'll slowly shrink down to the size he really is; he'll be less Monster, more, Ex-Husband.

I no longer count the days until I lose; I count the days that pass since I won.

It's a new feeling.

But not a bad one.