I surrender. I give up. I give in. I can fight no longer. Moreover, I give myself over, all that I am, especially my will to the One who alone has the power to change any of this mess-or leave it as it is.
I have fought the "good" fight for the past 18 months...doing what I thought was right, spending all the money to my name and more in the legal pursuit of what was best for my children. I attempted to save them from the influence of seeing their father strike their mother. I wanted to spare them the mental anguish of being reared by a manipulator who uses every tool at his disposal to control everyone in every situation he finds himself in, so that he can feel good about himself-a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow the end of which he will never catch. Every tool, even, and perhaps most belovedly, violence.
But I'm out. Out of money. Out of time. Out of energy. Out of fight. Up against lies. Up against the odds. Up against money I left behind in favor of safety: my own as well as that of my children.
I moved nearly 3,000 miles away from my home, and friends, and surroundings that were familiar and comfortable. Nine months later, when he could not have his way in a California court, I was followed by a man who knows no boundaries. Just this evening, far too late for me to call in and arrange a telephonic court appearance, this man's lawyer called me (sporting a feigned stilted mastery of English) and informed me that rather than allowing the judge to dismiss the case in California-AS HE HAD PETITIONED THE COURT TO DO, he was going to ask for more time (which will at a minimum further delay our divorce) because HE LOST the paperwork and it couldn't be properly certified...and "of course" inform the court of how its going for dad and the kids. This man and his lawyer have lied in open court more than once. As it turns out, there's no cure for a liar. There's no proof that he's lying. The truth actually isn't enough. No doubt he'll lie tomorrow.
He won't mention the flame red, raised diaper rash the two year old comes home with EVERY time he spends even one night with dad. He won't mention the fact that the six year old has experienced a distinct decline in behavior since dad's arrival in Florida. Nor will he mention the lies he tells his children about their mother. Nor will he mention the fact that out of nine months, this loving father, has only seen fit to pay 3 months of child support-and only because it is convenient to his case. But he will lie about me. Because he believes all the lies he's been selling himself about me ever since he decided he couldn't stand looking at what he saw in the mirror.
Cuss that cuss. I ain't playin. Not that I even could. But, given the time I wouldn't.
Let this be a lesson to you young ladies out there: better to have retained your you-ness, rather than lose everything by making the mistake of marrying someone who wasn't worth you. Let this serve most specifically as a lesson to you young ladies who believe that you are not complete, finished, whole, enough without a husband...who believe that your highest purpose is served in making babies. Unless you are with your prince charming, your beshert, yes the one human for whom THE ONE who made you, made you to find and compliment-two wholes making one, not two halves making one. Mystery not math. So you hold out. You hold on, girls. Because He who made you, knows with whom you belong. Because otherwise, you could end up losing everything. And the surrender of that everything will be the one comforting act at the end of a long and painful battle that you never had any chance of winning.
The only rest I find, in the midst of this episode of my constant inner monologue...in the crossfire of volleys of hatred both of him and myself for entering into this union most foul firing back and forth inside my head...in there the only chance of peace is surrender. Handing over, myself, and my wishes, my husband and my children, my love and my anger. Take them. Do with them what you will. I find that there is no play for me, no words to say, nothing. Here's my empty cup. My white flag. My nothing.
