I cried a lot yesterday. It was like a 500kg weight had been lifted off my shoulders just to be dropped right onto my heart. That kind of ambiguity. Tears of joy, tears of fear, tears of relief, tears of sadness. Lots of tears that needed their way out. The reason?
I was right!
Who would cry over that? A father who got the results of the psychological evaluation of his child, stating that the instability caused by the mother is hurting the child. The diagnosis was somewhat insinuated before and kind of obvious for everyone who had tried to do something with Lily that she didn't want to do, like homework. Yes, all children get distracted easily when doing something that they don't like, but it was getting out of hand. And it couldn't be just her trying to provoke me to get angry so she could get angry and get out all of her emotions.
So, what's wrong about being right?
I had the hope that she was fine. That it was all in my head. That my conflict with the mother had invaded my observation and analytical skills, that my emotional side, the ego, had silently taken over my judgement.
It would've been easier.
Blaming myself, acknowledging my mistake, re-assessing the situation, working on myself consequently. It could've changed everything to the better, because I know how to do that. I could've seen the mother in a different light, a better light. I could've been less worried about Lily.
But I wasn't wrong.
I, for some fatalistic reason beyond rational comprehension, chose that woman to be the mother of my child. And her behavior over the years caused Lily to have a lot of deficits, even though I tried to mitigate it as much as possible. I still believe that I chose the right path, that it was the way that did the least harm to Lily. But that doesn't matter to the heart. It still clenches knowing that even the best choice possible did harm to her.
Nothing that can't be fixed.
Through stability, through consistency, through coherence. She's still young and the plasticity of her brain makes it relatively easy. And that is the part of joy. I have something legal in my hands now to stop the mother for ripping Lily out of her environment yet again. After so many years of not being able to do anything, I can finally do something. And in good conscience. I didn't make it up, I didn't exaggerate, I didn't fake anything.
What a relief!
My father senses are all intact. It was good to be worried. It was good to take action. It was good to decide the way I did. My strategy of being myself, always choosing to bring out the best of me, it's still working. And there's much I can do. This might be just what I needed to convince the mother to cooperate with me, to get to some actual co-parenting. Wouldn't that be lovely? Lily would be quite enthusiastic, I'm sure.
I have a road map!
That's the perks of professional help. They lay out options. They give well funded advice. They know more than me, and they help me manage this situation in a way that benefits Lily.
The end of the tunnel?
That's what it felt like yesterday. At least being able to see some light after months of hardship and enormous efforts to maintain my serenity at least somewhat. It's not my word against hers anymore. There's more weight in my word.
You know what's the saddest part?
That something has to go wrong before anything can be done. Lily had to be harmed someway. Luckily in only a "mild" way considering the other options, but still. There was no way to prevent this, and I did my best to the the damage as mild as possible.
Still feels like crap.
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