I had another "Am I beating the dead horse?" moments a few days ago. The victim advocate had left a message with the judge's clerk telling him that we needed an actual dollar amount to set up the restitution order in the system.
So, did I really need to get a copy of the transcript of the sentencing? Wasn't that going to accomplish nothing but to send me spiraling over STBX's statement in court? You know, the one where he never said he was sorry?
(Hey, it's all water under the bridge, right? Cuz he loooooooooves me! Please excuse me, my skin just crawled off and is weeping in a pile in the corner.)
Yeah, like I said, spiraling.
But I did get the transcript.
And right there in the judge's own words is a dollar amount. Granted, it's just shy of $2000 (I guess that's the going prices for three years of tormenting a child) , but nonetheless, IT IS A DOLLAR AMOUNT.
It is a dollar amount that the victim advocate told me didn't exist. He told me he was going to check on it and when I called him back a week or so later, he told me that the dollar amount didn't exist. Yes, I was in the court room that day but frankly? I WAS A LITTLE DISTRACTED!
Which leads me to the conclusion that the one person in this entire equation who is PAID TO HAVE MY BACK, didn't.
I have hopefully left him the last message that I will have to leave him in quite awhile. I did my absolute best not to reach through the telephone wires and rip out his eardrum.
A wise woman once said "The bridge you blow up today might be the bridge you need to cross tomorrow." (I can't lie, I am that wise woman...why should Confucius get all the glory?)
I simply told him that I had bought (yes my lovlies, to actually check up on people in the justice system and see if they are doing their jobs, you need to BUY the transcript) the transcript and the non-existent dollar amount actually existed. I told him what it was and then I made a simple observation. "I thought we were both speaking English but obviously we are separated by a common language. I fail to see what the problem is here."
I have always had the sneaking suspicion that I've been patted on the head, placated with whatever they thought I wanted to hear, and then blown the fuck off. I honestly thought that it was just my own screwed up sense of entitlement that made me feel that way. I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt because, are you ready for this? Because they seemed so nice.
No, please, don't do your job properly, just be nice to me.
I know that I am high maintenance. I know that when my phone number shows up on their phone, cringing ensues. The funny thing is, this is one trait that I have actively cultivated over the past ten months. Anyone who knows the "public" me would never have thought that this was a problem. I have always pretty much opened my mouth and inserted my foot rather handily. But not when it comes to the relationships that really matter. Not when it comes to people who I wanted to like me.
And that, my lovelies, is how you become a doormat in your own home. You never open your mouth and you swallow all your own opinions and you tell yourself that if you ever absolutely put your foot down that you will be hated and left in the cold.
Guess what? Just between you, me, and the fence post? That is a CROCK OF SHIT!
I am learning. I am learning to disagree without being disagreeable. I am learning that the only person that really has my best interest in mind is me. I am learning that just because someone is paid to be my advocate, it doesn't mean that they have the ability to even find their own ass with both hands tied behind their back.
Maybe they are overwhelmed in their job. It isn't a stretch to think that. However, don't feed me a line of bullshit when it's my life and my child's life that you're screwing with. I have a far higher opinion of the person that says "I don't know but I'll find out" than the person that coos platitudes in my ear and just desperately wants me to SHUT UP AND LEAVE HIM ALONE!
Yeah...I've had a lot of experience with men with that opinion.
It's getting pretty old.