|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|Oh yeah. There is a God. And that God was really busy last night - holding my right fist down...
Seriously. I have never had a fonder desire in my life than I did last night. My desire above all else on this planet, was to smash my right fist directly into that motherfucking asshole's smug, ridiculous face!
But I held back, by some miracle.
I will not bore you with the details of our "family" session. There will be no more sessions. I'm done. I'm out. My child held up very well, considering her father is beyond insane. She didn't fall apart under the stress, nor did she try and injure herself, like she did last week, after contact with him. That is good. The psychiatrist got an entire hour's worth of asshole's behavior - in case of any legal activity in the future, she's a witness - plus it was just so fucking validating for both my kidlet and myself. I suppose it was worth any aggravation on my part, being screamed at to "SHUT UP!" at least 5 times by the asshole - and noting that any time my kidlet or even the doctor tried to interject sense into the situation - he would interrupt them, because he didn't want to hear. Ahhhh. Memories!
Do you know what his sole purpose for being at this ($200) session was? To find out about his daughter's condition? NOPE. To ask if there is something he can do to help her? NOPE. Nah. His point in the beginning, middle and end of the session, was that his daughter spoke her opinions around his family - and sometimes she had a smart mouth in front of his new wife... He came to a psyciatrist's office - for one hour, because he felt that was more important than anything else. And during the entire hour, of yelling, and drama - he never heard one single thing she, or the doctor had to say. He left with the same sentence on his lips that he came in with.
Oh well. Afterwards, kidlet and I ate comfort food at MacDonalds, and purchased "The Ring" DVD. We had herbal tea and went to bed... Saturday, she's having friends over to watch the DVD and eat pizza. We will go on, and we will get better. She's still doesn't want to see him. He's demanding she call him next week, and I think she will, but I'm not going to force it. I did, however, sit her down this morning, and explain that her father will never change. He'll never get it. And to save her an entire lifetime of grief, I insisted she play the game we all have to play at some point in our lives. I told her that she had to make him think he had won. And when she was with him, she had to smile, and nod her head, and let him drone on about whatever the fuck it was... Plus, when she was forced to be with his family (maybe 3 times a year), she was to sit, smile, agree, and play the game with them too. Hell, if she goes into corporate life, she'll be way ahead of the game if she starts that bullshit now. It sickens me that her father can only live in a world that agrees with him, and that I have to be the one to convince her to bullshit him - but that's just her unlucky draw of the cards. At least she knows the difference between honest communication and bullshit. He certainly doesn't...
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
One Last Bitchfest for the Road
Get the Popcorn Ready
I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|