Erased Family

Today is T’s 5th birthday. She will not hear those words from me, her two step sisters E and A, or importantly from her Dad, S. She will not hear those words from us and I fear by now she has forgotten us. We are an alienated family. S is an alienated father.

On January 10th there is an event coming up: change your profile picture on FB to reflect those who have been erased. I will be participating in it. #Erased

Countless times I have considered starting a blog to reach out to others like me. I have dared not because, since S is an alienated father, and T is still a minor, the future of their relationship is so uncertain that I couldn’t possibly raise my voice loudly in awareness, fearing my thoughts and opinions would negatively affect them.

I have been told I am quite aggressive in equal parental rights; sometimes unapologetically and harsh. If you have gotten this far in my post, then you about to learn something very personal about my life, and I share it with my friends and family in the hopes to bring education, awareness, and understanding about my fight for parental rights. I’ve never been political until the moment I found The [Texas] Fathers’ Right Movement.

I love T with all my heart, just as I do E and A. I never saw her as a “step” child and I never tried to take the place of her mother when we were able to see her. We bonded and I cannot tell you how much I miss her. Later on, I figured out why my support to S in his custody battle for T had become so emotionally heavy to me. I took a step back, I took the names and faces out of the situation, and I saw the dynamics for what they were; a reflection of my own childhood.

I am easily triggered by people who accuse non-custodial/non-primary parents of “they want more visitation just so they don’t have to pay child support,” or “they want to sign rights away just so they don’t have to pay child support,” or, “they don’t want to work just so they don’t have to pay child support,” or, “they want to move away just so they don’t have to pay child support,” or, “they have a replacement family so they just don’t want to pay child support,” or even, “they want custody of the child just so they don’t have to pay child support.”

I am sad to say that 80% of my conversations with people regarding equal parental issues boils down to the defense of “they just don’t want to pay child support.” It is infuriating. These child support defenders refuse to acknowledge parental presence is not defined or limited by money; yet it happens anyway. They want to sell their child to the other parent for a limited amount of time.

When I was six years old (a year from today T will be that age, A will be 10 months after T, and E is now six years old) my biological parents separated and started their divorce a short time later. For this moment, the details of their separation aren’t important, just like they weren’t when I was six. What was important, is one of my parents disappeared from my life. That parent was substituted with the presence of grandparents and an uncle that I barely remembered.

Later on the response to everything seemed to be “child support didn’t come this month, so no, you can’t have/do/participate/ in that.” When we talked on the phone, because my other parent lived in another state, I was encouraged to ask and demand where the child support money was, how come “you” didn’t send it.

Slowly but surely “you” were the cause of all my problems. You were gone. You wouldn’t answer my questions, especially about the child support money. You didn’t like me. You didn’t even love me. If you did, then my life would be better. I hate you. I hate you stupid person who doesn’t know anything about me!

Wow, what a sad complex for a child to have. A seed was planted, nourished, and bloomed into real hate; fueled by rejection, fear, anger, and absence.

When my “ex-step” Dad came into my life, I was 11 years old. For every boyfriend that came around, I assigned them a nickname. J S was the equivalent of James Sullivan from Monsters Inc—“Kitty."

Looking back on that nickname choice I suppose I made him into something non-threatening, who didn’t scare me and in the end was going to walk out a door never to come back; just like everyone else.

I don’t think he was different because he married into my family, because in fact, he was #3. Maybe at the time, it wasn’t him who was different, it was me. Around the same time, my phone call parent and I argued so much all I did was yell at him and cry.

Literally, every problem I had was his fault. So it was time to stop taking his calls, even when he begged my brothers to put me on the phone, I refused to talk to someone who didn’t love me. I promised myself that when I had children, they would never experience the pain I was feeling.

I think between age 11 and 18, I physically saw him “by surprise” twice when I visited his side of the family. I had become so co-dependent, emotionally manipulated, and constantly gaslighted by my narcissistic mother (I mean that as a medical term and not name-calling) that physically seeing him triggered in me “betrayed by family” I was visiting, caused an abnormal appetite because my stomach wouldn’t settle from the nerves, and an intense isolation because I was too depressed and anxious to be around for the duration of the visit.

The time, money, and organizing that went into flying three kids across the country was suddenly cut short on more than one occasion because little me couldn’t handle it.

Some part of me is frozen at six years old. Some part of me identifies with what T is going through every day of her life. Some part of me fights for equal parental rights because I am a parent, a divorced parent. I had to stop fighting to include him (my ex) in their life because fighting to have him in their life did not mean that magically he would suddenly become safe to be around.

I did everything I could to make my ex a fit parent. My children were not supposed to experience the pain that I did, of an absent parent. Some part of me fights for equal parental rights because T needs someone on her side who understands what she is going through. Nothing against her Dad, S, my husband, but he doesn’t understand her life the same way I do. Just like I don’t understand what it is like to have a child hidden from you before birth, to finally meet and spend time with that child while trying to make up for lost time, and then bam she is gone again. I don’t understand that kind of pain and I don’t understand a parent who is responsible for controlling that outcome.

Since I have started advocating for equal parental rights, I have reached out to my biological father. I have gone no contact with my mother and maternal grandmother. I have opened the door for my paternal grandparents and my uncle to be a part of my life once again, but the door isn’t wide open. At 25 years old, I got my first birthday card from my biological father. I struggle with every correspondence because for the first time in my life I control how I feel about him.

I’ve had the conversation with my children about who Grandpa R is. I’ve had to explain that Papa is still Papa and he isn’t going anywhere. I’ve shown pictures of family to E and A who send them birthday cards and holiday cards.

This year in school, E learned her last name and how to spell it. One of the kids will someday ask why their last name is different from mine and S’s. They might even ask why S isn’t in any of E’s baby pictures. It’s not about “will they be mad at me or still love me” when they learn the truth. It’s about the pain they might feel and the lack of feeling whole. It’s about them not feeling loved or cared about. It is about their world, as they know it, changing.

T might hurt like the rest of who have or will experience these things. She might feel unloved and she might feel incomplete. I know it’s not my responsibility to be there for T. But I wish I could be. I wish I could at least offer my love and support.

My ex has not been erased. There is a box of pictures, a baby book, letters, keepsakes, and memories waiting for them when they are old enough. Their origin story will be passed onto them without alterations.

S has been erased. S is a good father and T deserves to know that. T deserves to hear her father wish her a Happy Birthday.

So Happy Birthday T, from your erased family. We love you.