Last night I had my first nightmare in months. My ex somehow got inside my home and was taking my son. The dream kept repeating. The home wasn’t mine. My subconscious had warped my home and made up some strange indoor/outdoor maze of a building that was supposed to be my house. It was raining. The house leaked. Vulnerable. Unprotected. He wasn’t supposed to be in my home. He had no key. There was a restraining order being ignored. He was taking my son…
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This weekend will be the first time my son spends the weekend at his dad’s house. Three years of courts and lawyers, psychologists and social workers. Almost $80 grand in fees to protect my son and this weekend my son is going to his dad’s home and will probably wake in the middle of the night and climb into his dad’s bed with his new wife.
It gives me nightmares and my son is okay with the upcoming ‘sleepover’, “I like my dad. My dad’s the best dad in the whole world. And you’re the best mom in the whole world.” I smile and agree, “And you’re the best son in the whole world.” I play it cool. I don’t make waves. I keep my fears to myself.
I’ve been praying for his dad for three years; longer, if you count the times of prayer during our dating and marriage. I’m betting on that his dad has changed and all is well. A little apron string is being cut this week and it hurts.