Separated Dad

The trials, tribulations and happy times of a separated father

[separateddad-blog]

Separated Dad ep02

I have been having problems with both my landlord and my ex. The selfish, rude, belligerent... landlord (though all those adjectives apply equally to 'her outdoors') took three days to reply to my plaintive email regarding a lack of hot water. Unfortunately those three days spanned the weekend, when I have my son. Wonder if his mum noticed the new musty child she had acquired. I told the land-viscount (I have understandably demoted him) I would get it sorted myself and deduct the cost from the rent - he grudgingly agreed then, days later, sent an email informing me he would not be renewing my tenancy in January, when our contract runs out. I was planning to leave then anyway (I swear) but it did feel rather like getting preemptively dumped by a partner who really deserved the shame. Anyway... the ex must have sensed my relative weakness with that innate animal cunning she possesses. Since we agreed a Court Order two weeks ago regarding child arrangements for our two-year-old son, she has made at least five requests that, if fulfilled, would violate the agreement. A lot of the confusion could have been avoided had she stayed long enough in Court to collect the final order or read it when it was posted to her. But who has time for such formalities, right? You don't need to tell me how busy us unemployed people can be - as I eat my pizza, watch telly and occasionally cry softly, rocking back and forth. On Monday it was a request to have my son from Friday morning instead of evening in a few weeks. I was busy on that day (ironically enough) and declined, apologising. On Tuesday (in probably the least sexy version of Seven Days ever) it was that my estranged (and strange) sister would be dropping my son off this Friday. I have not seen my sister for six months, wholly despise her and have no wish to see her. Plus the Court Order specifies my ex to do dropoffs. After much unecesary toing and froing we finally agreed to let normal service continue - or, in layman's terms, to stick to the f*ckin court order I went to a lot of trouble pursuing. I'm not sure we will ever get on. The ex and I, not the land-viscount and I. I find it baffling that two people who once lived together in relative harmony for over two years can now barely exchange a civil word. It's beyond childish. But hey, she started it...

[separateddad-blog]

Diary of a Separated Dad - The Pilot

I just want to be the hero in my own story, but I’ve realised you don’t get to choose. I started off as the villain, no arguments there. I did not treat my son’s mother very well while we were a couple, at least in the latter stages. But since the breakup around 18 months ago, every plot device designed to elicit sympathy for the leading actor has been rolled out for my cause. Signed my car over to the ex - as she has two children, including our son. Check. Found myself stuck with a year left on a two-year rental contract for a house far too large for my reduced needs. Check. Experienced a minor breakdown and battled mental health problems. Check. Was later made redundant. Check, check and check mate. And, all the while, my former partner has settled comfortably into the role of the villain, one she plays with apparent relish. It may sound bitter so far. And, in all honesty, there must be an element of that. For all my mistakes and bad behaviour, I was devastated at her departure, but now I feel nothing, except a deep-seated resentment that has nothing to do with the distant past. It has its roots in my son associating pejorative swear words with me, and repeating nasty comments he has heard from the ex and her family. At my access times being chopped and changed at short notice. And at my boy seemingly spending most of his time in front of the television when in her care. Every website, mediator and solicitor will say the same thing: separated parents have to work together for the good of the child. And I have tried. But the information exchange tends to be one-way traffic. There are only so many times you can tell another parent - someone you naturally assume cares as much about the child as you do - that our kid has been hurt or is ill and receive no response whatsoever.  It all adds to a general feeling of isolation. Unlike my ex, I don’t have the support of a new partner - partly because I am such a horrible tyrant but also due to not having a job and my weekends being fully taken up with my son. I don’t have any family that live locally, I had only lived in the area for a month when she left. And, as mentioned, my method of transport is a choice between the rural bus service and the branch train line. Adult conversations are exceedingly rare. The majority of toddler groups take place during the week and are aimed at women (Google ‘Mother and Toddler group’ then ‘Parent and Toddler group’ and compare results). It means when I get upset or frustrated - I’m only human, after all - the only person I can lean on is my son, and he’s two. I mean, yeah, I can get a cuddle whenever I want, but it’s hardly therapy.  Nor should it be. It’s my job to support him, not the other way around. Some weeks I dread his arrival and others I miss him so much it physically hurts. I still strive to be the hero, his hero if no one else’s, but I may never get there. I plan to document my life going forward, predominantly to shine a light on an underrepresented minority of separated fathers. And perhaps it will help me, too.