Rehashed, posted to The Band too

It started off innocently enough, a response to a Craigslist ad, a lonely man looking for a friend. We fell head over heels for each other almost from the get go – he had his problem, as did I, but we were a match. Within weeks I met his son, he met the memories of mine. Hand in hand, we marched forward.

Then I learned of her, the abusive ex. To be fair, I have my own him that I am still recovering from. I just did not know how much her reach extended into his life. The mother of his son, yes, but still a controller, a user, an emotional thief. My him had moved across the country, there was no fear of his shadow creeping back in. She controls so much in his life. How and when he is allowed to see his son, how I can interact with the kid, who can view HIS medical records. It’s but one hoop I must jump through in the being with him.

He has a past, a record. It’s from his younger, dumber days, but felonies hang around for a while and change how the world sees you. He is having difficulties getting a job, even with a college degree, Dean’s list, a willingness to do anything. We will not be able to get a place of our own for years to come. There may not even be children of our own because I REFUSE to raise children in the same house with my mother.

My mother, ah, yes. She accepted him well enough, but only because they shared the same drug habit. He has been clean now for almost 6 months; she has recently taken to manufacturing and distributing the same drug from our house. He’s doing well in his fight; she’s rubbing it in his face. Mom is trying to make me into the controller because he made the decision to quit.

Then there’s her. Her controlling ways know no limit. He cannot have visitation with his son unless it is supervised by his mother, not without her own chemical dependencies. I cannot watch his(our) son. On the nights he works and has our son, I sleep in a different bed, in a different house, and miss one of my 4 days a month to see the little guy. That sound that you are hearing right now is the sound of my heart breaking.

What am I to do? I cannot, will not, walk away. I am spinning my wheels, so is he. His ex now wants access to his medical records  in trade for unsupervised visits. This sounds good, but we have nowhere to even have these visits. My  house with the pot growing down stairs? I think not. Do we get a hotel room for 2 nights every other week? That’s silly, childish. Someone has now moved into the room we use when little guy is around, adding yet another complication.

He and I, we, are at the end of our ropes. What do we do? What can we do? He’s done everything he can to get his life back together, I’ve done nothing to not have mine going the right way. Here we are, though, both almost 26, with no way up.

With Love Always
Me