JANUARY 22 2010 2054 - JACKSONVILLE FL - Wow, it has really been a while since I have journalized my thoughts. My heart is extremely heavy tonight, and I needed an outlet for these thoughts, for they are a truly heavy burden on me at this moment.
It has been well over two months since I've been allowed to see my son, and I am going to be honest, it is worst than a dagger being driven into my heart. I cry at times, knowing good and well that nobody hears me, hell, nobody really cares. I guess people will never understand the depth of my emotions.
Are men supposed to have emotions? What is it that they tend to call a sensitive male? A Punk? A Sissy? A Faggot? It is like there is some unwritten law that says a man can not have emotions, that a man must be a rock. Well, I have news for you all. I cry at time, and I hurt a lot. I am sensitive and if that makes me less of a man in your eyes, then so be it. I can not help the fact that I love my son, and I know I did absolutely nothing to him to deserve the punishment being inflicted on me. Still, here I am, being made to suffer for a crime that I am not guilty of, whatever that crime may be, because I still do not know what it is I did.
Each night I endure bouts with depression, as my heart longs to see my son, to hold my son, to laugh with my son. My blessing, stolen from me because of her intrinsic jealousy. Her pastor said something about how children go to their fathers, and because she witness her mother coming between her and her father, she thinks that is the way family is supposed to be. Man, you just pay my bills, and stay away from my children. That is what she thinks, like 85% of black women in America today. Selfish, only out to prove what kind of power they believe they wield. When I man moves from the abuse, then he becomes a target of some feminist vendetta again the anything that is male. Push the man out and then tell the system he abandoned his family. Women, black women in particular are great at that. Grab a knife at a man just because. Scream at the man and tell him that her father will shoot him if he says anything. Make the bed uncomfortable for the man. Poor hot grits on the man. Is it any wonder why black men are now moving on to white women?
I put up with a lot of abuse, primarily mental abuse. I was treated as an outsider from the moment we started dating. My opinion did not matter, not in the least. If I had a suggestion, she would pretend that she was listening to it, and once my back was turned she soul call her father or her pastor and ask their advice on the very same subject to which I offered a suggestion. I meant nothing. My sole purpose became that of a bill payer who was only in her house so long as I paid her bills. I was not a husband, but an indentured servant, one step above a meager slave.
Quality time did not exist. Her idea of quality time was I watched my son, while she bought her job home. I ask her a question and she mumbles, yet she has the audacity to get upset at me if I was preoccupied and simply did not hear when she asked me a question. In her eyes, it is ok for her to give the silent treatment, but once I take the same approach, then I am the one making life in the house difficult. My name may just as well have been "Boy", because that is all I felt like, she did not allow me to feel like much more than that.
What was her weapon of choice? The instrument of her revenge? She pulls my son away from me. No matter how my son tried to come to me, she pulled him away from me. Then she lied by saying that I did not want to go near my son. I fail to see how her telling my son not to go near me, and then pulling him away from me when he sat next to me is my way of saying I don't want to be around him.
Abuse, plain and simple abuse. Now that I have distanced myself form her abuse, she involved the State of Florida by seeking Child Support. I can not see my son, but I have got to pay for him. If I knew that Saint Peter would not stop me from entering Heaven, I would kill myself. I have honestly considered it,and to be honest, I am still considering it. Why live a life where I am a constant victim of abuse? What is the point? I guess it does not really matter. I would rather pay the child support and live in a place where I feel I am safe, than to live under her roof being subjected to her abusive ways.
It is funny, but in 2005, she'd asked me why I never considered dating her. She asked me what was wrong with her. There was a reason after all. It just did not manifest itself until after we were married. God I wish I'd never broken up with the mother of my adult children. We had our problems, but I have not been able to have any kind of successful relationship since Julia and I broke up in 1992. Perhaps I am doomed to failure in any relationship I become involved in. Hard to say.
God I miss my son, and God it hurts really bad. As I pray at night, I sometimes secretly hope that my eyes would not open the next morning. I think God knows that, and yet he still wakes me up. That is hope, and from hope come faith. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen. I can not see God, but there is evidence that he is there walking with me, every step of the way. With that, I believe that the things I hope for will come to pass. Well everything except that whole not waking up the next morning thing. I know I am rambling, but I do miss my son, and at times, rambling is the best way to ease my mind.
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