I took a month off. The last time I took off a month I was hospitalized. Things are different this time though. I took off the month to put in the work and the reward is something that I have waited 17 months to hear : My son will be coming home.
There is no date yet. I cannot have a date until I move from this location of transition to the place we will eventually call ours. Yesterday in court though the judge took adoption off the table. He said it and it is in the court order, Clyde is a child who is NOT eligible for adoption.
My fight just got a whole lot simpler.
I am still angry that we’ve had to go through all of this but I am the most angry at myself for letting Andrea into my life and exposing myself to her retaliation. I cannot change that though, I can only do what I’ve been doing….fighting to restore that which she destroyed.
For the past 17 months there have been few celebrations on my end. Every time I took a step forward, 67 steps back bit me in the ass. I’ve weeped more than I knew possible and welcomed death as the alternative to living with the pain of my family ripped away from me. I courted death like Thanos begging her to take me from what seemed to be impossible.
I remained in a house not fit for human habitation because the horror stories of the shelter system told me that was a better option. It was not.
I resided with SuperLALA creating a different type of prison for myself in the name of assistance and security.
My beautiful baby Onyx, my cat who rode with me even though she was supposed to be Bonnie’s died at the hands of a “Yarn”. Both of the animals I called pets in my adult years died at the hands of a “Yarn” – first Papito then Onyx.
I got so low that I went weeks without visitations with Clyde because I could not see a way out of the rut I lived in, I could not figure out how to not spread my sickness to him. I wanted to infect him with love not spread the stentch of desperation which I oozed from all of my pores.
We are connected again, as we truly always were even when my personal incarceration didn’t allow me to see that. We are so connected he is back to eating all of my food again. I am grateful to be hungry for this very legitimate reason.
I have a hope restored that allowed me to wake for the first time in 17 months with a smile, and without thoughts of killing myself. I’ve had one day without suicidal ideation and while it may not become a string of days….one day is more than I could hope for even six months ago.
I no longer have to fear going into family court. The worst possible option after what happened Halloween 2014, is not an option any longer. As long as I keep working and keep moving and keep progressing….my son will be coming home.
They say home is where the heart is but for me home is the place that my Clyde can run about in his underwear and sleep peacefully at night. Home is where Clyde is and we will be reunited….without exception.
There were times that I doubted it, denied it, could not include it in my vizion. I could not think of a future, or even a present. I could only think of his tears when they rode away with him in the van, and the call from them saying they needed me to calm him down that day.
I could only see him waving to his Auntie Carla and thinking it was time to get feench fries.
I could only feel the emptiness that came November 1, when I woke without him.
I was beyond salvation, without the possibility that my son would come home.
That ship has sailed. That ship is not returning to port. There is only space now for a different ship destined for parts unknown and I am okay with that, yes even me who hates ambiguity. Go. Figure.
Some pretty silly things had to happen for me to end up where I am today as I type this on a desktop that I fear may be older than my son. It is the best thing that could happen to me though, considering, it put so many other things in motion that led to the decision of the judge yesterday.