Child Support? “Today… I win!” a how to…

The surreal just became real this week…  and before I begin I want to say that my intention for this blog is not to dance on the grave of “he who must not be named”, but rather to cast some light and maybe even sprinkle a smidge of hope into the lives of a thousand other woman of whom so many are affected by men who choose not to maintain their children financially. Yup, I am having a chinwag blog about getting child support – and this in a third world country I might add.

The process was gruelling and arduous, and it took a year and half to achieve rather pleasing results. I personally feel woman need to hear the success stories (and with this little old mines’) – the so called ‘myths’, above all the negative stories, coupled with a few of my opinionated pointers of course, ok.. maybe a lot – take it or leave it.

I can only speak from my own experience, which is deeply rooted in recovery, which I do every day. The first thing I would like to say is that woman need to wake-up. Take the stars out of your eyes. If you have a man who is not maintaining your/his child/ren on a monthly basis, makes bum promises, which do not actually feed your offspring, or says that he has all the intentions in the world of paying… blah blah blah, connect with that elusive reality check asap! Step out of the denial wonderland which makes you feel horrid and fuzzy all at the same time. All you are doing is enabling the demise of your own financial crisis, enabling his bumming ways, which directly affects your child/ren whom you love and are responsible for. There has to be one adult in their lives and if it is you take that jacket and wear it.

Grow. A. Back. Bone – a real one. Stop posting wishful quotes on facebook or wafting on about the inner warrior already. Suit up and go to battle.

Take full responsibility, even though it may not seem fair or only yours to carry – remember, life is not fair. Accept that. Bitter pill – open and swallow. Make seriously conclusive decisions on how you will move forward looking to a new result and follow through no matter what!

Getting angry, emotional, sprawling 1 million emails to him, begging for help, texting or whatever other means one uses to achieve a hopeless break through – STOP! None of this will help you. Yes, maybe you will receive some token of a contribution at first, and maybe just enough to belly crawl your way from one day to the next, but believe me when I tell you… sustaining this will kill you. Too many variables! And to top it all off you are indignifying yourself! He sees you as nothing more than a somewhat noisy and weak irritant. He will tell people how psychotic you are and make you out to be a loony tune stalker chic, and face it – you have given him the ammo and he is ‘luuuurving’ the toxic attention. Come now. Who takes that behaviour seriously? It will only bear you rotten fruit.

(post-it note: I did all of the above and then some – I am guilty of it all, I however hate begging and pleading and I learn really fast… did I mention I have the stamina of a horse?)

Wishing, hoping and whining like a sissy girl is a language of loss – strap on your superhero tank girl bra, lederhosen your big girl panties onto your quivering bum, strap on those 24 hole Doc martins and go kick some proverbial butt.

Next step (when one has decided to take things more seriously)…

When engaging with the authorities be factual, unemotional and have all your ducks in a row by means of proof. Remember everything you are claiming for needs to be proven without a shadow of a doubt. Don’t waste their or your own time – get your paper work truthfully and factually all sorted and together. Also, try to remember that you are just one more case in the gazillions which they are working on. Did I mention to be kind to the authorities…?This is a biggie – no matter how long the process takes. The upside of this is that it is awesome for your karma.

Be reasonable. Trying to take the enamel off his teeth will only land you on the dark side of the scales… (place that fantasy back in your box of torture fantasies tailor made for easing you to sleep late at night). Be fair, even though this may feel like chewing on foil whilst pulling your nails out with pliers. His time will come… your fortitude will be rewarded. This is an endurance life lesson (yes, another fucking growth experience).

Follow the processes and red tape as you should, arrive at every appointment on time and with no expectations, just a well aired compost heap to grow what needs to be grown. This helps a lot with the impatience and irritations – be genuine from the inside out, people are not stupid and can pick up if you are acting… “Fake it till you make it” is such dishonest bullshit, it too will earn you nothing but baby fly maggots.

Get to know the legal system you are working with inside and out, ask questions and then don’t be a ‘know it all’ – people hate those. Get to know the people you will be engaging with and stay on top of your case! Yes, take full responsibility for that too! To contextualise this, don’t bug them either – communicate effectively, ask when you can engage and when it will suit them. Manners plays a huge role.

So, without getting too boring, this is just some of the basics, yet a sound foundation to build on, and for me it was very challenging to not just scream and act out my frustration and complete desperateness. But it paid off in ways I could never of imagined.

Prepare yourself for the plot twists, the snide discrepancies which will be put forward to discredit you. Don’t even be surprised and don’t even deny them! Speak when spoken to and answer the questions about these twisty toffees with facts – hard truthful facts, no emotion! The weirdest things get said and alleged when someone is under pressure or wanting to win – do not be this person!

Oh and lastly, no-one in his corner is going to love you for doing this. They will not throw you a congratulations party for waking up and taking responsibility for looking after you sproglings. Quite the opposite. Prepare for that and do not engage for god’s sakes! Know that their perceptions are theirs and that they are allowed to have them and that that is exactly where it begins and ends.

Einstein says:Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Pixling smiles… sanity zen is the way to go!


Cha cha cha….

This morning my phone pings – I assume it’s my usual “Hope for today” swishing into my inbox … it was so was not.  “He who must not be named” sent me another one of his “sorry can’t pay the maintenance” mails and the excuse… “Due to the holidays”.  My inferno combusted! My answer I spoke aloud between heavily clenched teeth was…. “yes, of course, because children don’t eat during the holidays! REALLY!! Again, he is just one of a gazillion jerk-offs out their polluting our world with crap and never taking responsibility… and his justification is (que drum roll) – “well my son does not communicate with me”. No shit Sherlock! After years and years of just never stepping up what the fuck do you expect?! Respect? Thank – you’s? What?

(Breath… humming Om) Needless to say, we had a fantastic xmas (Yule) and a smashing 18th birthday for my ‘boi’ – funded entirely by yours truly – not a bag of chips from the biological male, because face it… he is weak and a loser. Oh and just an additional rant – My daughter communicates with him, yet her College studies are not paid either – they have not been paid the whole year excluding the registration fees – she is facing not being able to continue her studies and has not been allowed to see her marks for the exams written and played.  “Ho Ho Ho (being the operative word to the money hole – no pun intended but works well ;0) Merry Christmas sweetie – sealed with a juicy kiss from daddy because you know I love you!”

Now that the ranting is done I turn to my recovery with some trepidation, because it is said the “this too shall pass” and we are to act with love and compassion toward our fellow human beings – well it’s a tad difficult with thoughts of planting an ACME bunch of dynamite in his arse and detonating it with a glint in the eye… but I breath, blog, do my morning read and realise that I cannot let this fucker fluff my serenity, and that all my kids have in this world is me… the responsibility weighs heavy, the future looks bleak and I wonder how it is that I get through this Addicts chaos time and time again. He pays for very little, no medical, no education, no food, no birthday or xmas gifts… not to mention the daily spends, clothing etc… or being anything close to what a dad resembles… sorry, I have to add…accept to his new family with 4 spawn who call him ‘pappa’, because apparently to them he is an awesome dad… This is where I have to surrender and realise that there is nothing I can do to change this at all, letting it go into the ether is really all I am able to do, as it all becomes too much for me and my rage will eat me alive. It’s hard to fight the resentment and anger and it’s really hard to see my children go through this – I wipe the tears from my daughters face way too often to not to be affected: So, a quick step one, two, three is in order…

Step 1: I am powerless over this arsehole’s behaviour – that my life will not become unmanageable and I will not hand my serenity to him on a platter.

Step 2: I have to believe that a greater force out there will deal the cards.

Step 3: Made the decision to let it go and trust that I am held by these larger rhythmic forces – blessed be.

Pixling ponders… its all a tango (rose in mouth), where’s my coffee….

Cloaked Gifts

So I get a letter this week… it is the blathering ramblings of “he who must not be named” typing out all the facts of his financial unmanageability, listing how he cannot pay for anything and his parents are paying for everything etc… how his client may not be honest and may not be sending the money he has been waiting for  for months (since August) nothing, truly, has changed with him and he could in all honesty not be bothered with his children nor his parents and those are the people he claims he loves.

I faced my white hot anger for about a day – spewing fire… and I think I should just accept that this will make me angry no matter how hard I work on it, not being reactive to it.  I just think… “you FUCKING LOSER” !  I barred myself from replying, I am not able to acknowledge such crap even with a nod, and to think I heard this exact same story for years and lived with it!!!  The ease at which he absorbs, takes, sponges off everyone around him blows my socks off. Fact is, I will never be able to change his behaviour, and I get that.

I work I earn.  I paint and sell. I make ceramics and sell.  I will do whatever it takes to keep the wheels turning. My bills are paid and my children’s bills are paid. Why is it that I can do it and not him? 

I met a father who was in my shoes later in the week and I felt everything he spoke of so close to the bone – I thought how ironic it was to see both sides of the fence in one week, and that solidified it for me. If you really want to be involved you will be, if you really want to find a way you will find a way.  Essentially we can all do what we need to and want to do – granted some journeys are harder than others, but it can be done. I am also completely convinced that you wake up as far as you choose to wake up.

Pixling schnarfs… it is what it is and this may be a gift wrapped up weirdly for all to learn from…

Fathers and Angels – not the usual spices…

When I started the magical process of wishing a new being to love back into my life I selfishly wished him to be without children and be without an ex-wife and without the enmeshed co-dependant family chaos I was all too used to living with for such a long time.  One could say my wish list was an impossibility to achieve. I wished a lot of things… 2 and a half pages later I had eeked out the human being I wanted to spend my life with based purely on character.  This recipe process took me a long time to complete.  It was thwart with touching wounds and scars I did not want to look at. I did not know whether I even wanted to love again or whether I would be able to offer another person a healthy or whole enough human being in return. I was also not willing to do anything to actively find this magnificence – I literally said he would need to find me. The bar was set and I was comfortable assuming this person did not exist.

To cut a long story short he ended up being someone I knew…. From childhood through to my teenage years.  He was not one of the ‘featuring crowd’ thugs – he was a strong quiet soul, just always there whilst I was too busy being a metal head goth being too invested in ‘cool’ to really notice. With that said, he did leave a lasting impression – he was one of the kindest people I had ever had the honour of meeting.  Kindness makes me weep… it’s just too beautiful for my soul to contain.

We have currently been together for just over a year and a half and most of the time I was waiting for his demon to arrive… turned out it was there all along and after much contemplation I came to the epiphany that this man is just human, like all us mortals. I realised I did not want to live with a “white washed jesus” – I wanted a human being.  He however was still the kindest being, demon and all, as the days weeks and months elapsed.

I read something beautiful today on the book of face – it was a posting about fathers.  The gist of it was to the effect that fathers are the men who care, not necessarily the bio dads… the commentary seemed sadly to trend mostly towards the men which chose to do this father thing i.e. not the bio dads. It hit me that the man in my life has enveloped me and my children to this extent and he is one of those men who choose to be here! “He who must not be named” has fucked up so holy with his children and has so many conditions set up around them and how they, his blood children must act and accept what he dishes and that they need to place his happiness above all else punishing them severely if they choose different by means of deprivation of medical care,  money and generally ignoring their needs on all levels – yet here is this gift of a human angel who accepts my children like his own and accepts them for who they are – gives all that he is able including the respect we were all so deprived of for so long – he does all this knowing he is not their father and never will be.

I sit in such gratitude of being able to witness this and be a part of it. To acknowledge that there are men in this world who step up to the plate and do it without the ‘bio dad’ recognition demands. He loves me, he loves my children and my wish list came true on levels I was not able to perceive at the time.

Pixling thinks… conjuring this magical being has taught me there are some good men out there.

Winds of Change

Change means doing things differently… Einstein said “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result”. I confess I change slowly and with an incredible amount of resistance… I only discovered this small gigantic flip of the switch when I started really moving deeply into the dark side of my neuron connections. I had to find myself becoming an emotional brain surgeon. It did not sit well with me I can assure you. Anarchy is where I find my thrills.

My usual line of business – which I am exceptionally good at, is trying to change other people and circumstances. It’s how I used to control life (trauma) around me, but that didn’t work out too well for me in the long run – accepting life on life’s terms is a large bitter pill which I did not want to partake of in a sacrament-like ritual, however when one is crawling of pain on your belly what choices are left?

Since I have applied the ”change” I have been sorely tested on whether it has actually shifted even a small iota of my thinking and acting by a couple of momentous events this year, so far. On mother’s day this year my very ex mother in-law (with her signature on my divorce papers to prove it) texted me to request nothing else but change – I had to change the mind of my son by using my influence as his mother, that I needed to change the trauma and hurt we have lived and so on. I was astounded by how selfish the demands for change were, that by no means was there an ounce of acknowledgement for what we had been through… it was minimised and wiped clean off the table and all that was lying on the table was her and ‘he who must not be named’ bleeding hearts. I was filled with anger and self-justification and wanted to defend our raw life lived without food at times and ask where the fuck were they… I desperately wanted to retaliate!

In that moment had to decide whether I would bite. This was the moment of change… My Lady Gandalf’s words came screaming into my muscle fibres… STOP!!!! Observe, and Steer (very fucking carefully). I stepped onto the rocks which had cut me to shreds before – I replied after a couple of minutes of breathing, that I am no longer in the business of changing anyone or anything but myself, that I cannot control or engage again in such emotional chaos that for my emotional sobriety I am not able to fill her demands. The onslaught did not stop there (it only does in the movies…) she proceeded to say that my recovery is to the detriment of her family and my children… The manipulation were like neon labels attached to her words. I held my ground, my boundaries with conviction and I was not mean or nasty in doing so – just strong.

Looking back I recognise her desperateness and I have compassion for it as I was filled with that exact desperateness not so long ago – I had to change that, I had to form a different path in my brain and heart to change my behaviour.  Addiction is largely a behavioural disease that envelopes families, everyone eventually gets some form of it, like the flu. I did not expect her to thank me for being such a well behaved bunny and for keeping firstly myself safe and by default everyone else safe, including her. She thinks I don’t understand when in fact I do… I just disagree now, and I choose to change bad chaotic behaviour which causes upset and drama.

Pixling schnarfs… change won’t bring praise but will bring results, just a thought.

Re-member-ing instead of Dis-member-ing….

Prior to my separation and then divorce I had no idea just how mad life really was… A case of looking back with my jaw on the floor including a big WTF slamming me in the face.

Living with an addict, dry or powdered (in my case it could and was a lot more, multiple addiction issues), was immense on all levels… This is a small example piece on an aspect of living the unmanageability…

My son recalled a memory of ‘he who must not be named’ ‘s workshop and the only tactile memory which popped up for him (now almost at the age of 18) was the smell of this room… I realised I had filed this memory under ‘unimportant’. How odd, I thought, as this was a daily red hot poker up my ass yet I classified it as ‘detail’ – the memory seeped back into my brain like an old movie and then too I recalled this awful scene, I followed a barrage of detailed memories around this infested workshop, his ‘addiction playground’ I used to call it, in our home – I immediately thought, was I the one ‘pissed and stoned’ for 18 years of my life?! 

(I will furbish a quick synopsis to sketch a brief outline in this interlude – nobody needs to have their imagination milked too much around this, believe me. We had 2 dogs, they were kept inside the workshop at night – cleaning and mopping was not one of his most favourite things to do… ever. Rubbish bags piled up next to the house… ok enough, I can detail this no more, case of a watered down version of trainspotting – on this note however, I raged and screamed, I cried and begged and spoke sugar coated words, I carried and swept and wiped up behind him to the point where I was enabling every bad habit he had fed and nurtured… So I stopped. The result… indescribable….)

It’s like many light bulbs which go on when I am reminded of things like this. It occurs to me every time, and it comes loaded with shame and good dose of a self-flagellating catholic guilt – that being co-dependent on an addict is just as bad, that no matter how self-righteous I thought I was at the time, or how much I played the victim I was choosing to live the same madness daily, with the added bonus of being an enraged succubus, hopeless and tired… dragging my children through that mess with me.  The state of that workshop sybolised the state of our marriage, and the mental and emotional state each of us in this dysfuction.

Everyday post the momentous separation, which happened 6 months after starting my recovery process, I am so aware of how all these things impacted my life, my being, and that years later I am still discovering the devastation and still putting pieces back together. I am grateful that I am able to do this in my safe, (clean) chaos free environment which I was able to create for myself and my children.

Pixling churns… chaos fucks with my serenity!

Stiletto Gestapo…..

I know quite a string of divorced people, and considering the stats I think (sadly) that this is something that could actually be turned around… i.e ‘I know a couple of married people’…


As I sipped my coffee this morning and thought back of my busy week, I thought of everything enmeshed with whats all going on in my children’s lives right now and just the ‘balls to the wall’ pace at which we are moving at, week after week. Then I wondered if it ever occurred to ‘he who must not be named’ what it entails to be a 100% present, hands on parent? This right here was the que for Mizz. ‘Immediate Expectation’ to show up, dressed in S&M leathers and stiletto’s together with a hard rock, angry justified woman soundtrack que of “I’m a bitch, I’m a mother, I’m a child, I’m a lover…..” Carrying a banner reading, “A thank you would be good, and if not that, some form of gratitude, Asswipe!” My thoughts screeched to I blinding halt – My now nerdy consciousness woke up with all the mad noise in my head realising I was yet again ‘fantasizing’ about shit!

I don’t always like the arrival of sanity. Hanging with ‘justified stiletto’ chic is way more exciting at first, but it hurts after a while…. what I am starting to realise is that I need to keep myself rooted to reality and just accept life the way it is. A ‘Thank you’ won’t be forthcoming and ‘expectations are resentments just waiting to happen’.

So here I am, finishing up my morning thoughts with my cup of Jo thinking gratefully how my reality Gestapo has become a way more hardcore chic!

Pixling thinks…. Oy Vey 😉

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