A Worker at Age 5

Things had bad before, but they got ridiculously worse from here on out.  DP felt a power that he had not had before.  Feeling that he had some “gold-star” from the Judge he took that and ran with it. 

Our lives became an even worse mini-series that I honestly don’t know how we lived through.  Texts in the middle of the night; threats of him “coming to get her,” cancelation upon cancelation for any time with his daughter. 

You would think the cancelation was good, but it was also eerie.   Right after the cancelation would be the threat of him coming to get her at midnight that night.  I had so many sleepless nights watching for cars, up by the window, watching the comings and goings of the neighborhood. 

When he did take her, they went to his work.  He now had a job, under the table so as not to pay child support, at the CP.  This was no place for a child, and honestly, no place for an adult.  The disgust that I feel when I think of Ellie there turns my stomach every way and inside and out.  Ellie would do two things while she was there.  She would either be locked in his office alone.  Or, she would roam the floors of this place.  So much to say!

The point of spending time with your child, in my mind, is to actually spend time with your child.  And here, Ellie was locked in a room by herself.  It was gut-wrenching to hear.  If she had to use the restroom, it was too bad, unless he came to check on her at the right time.  She was left to watch movies on his computer.  If he was going to do that with his time, why not leave it for me to actually just have her and do something productive with her?

Roaming the floors.  This place is dark, seedy, dirty and no place for a 5-6 year old to be walking around by herself.  She was given game tokens to play games and could do so on her own – after all, DP was working.  Those games could be anything from appropriate for a 5 year old to completely not.  The idea of someone taking her also never crossed his mind, of course. 

One day, Ellie came home with a rash up and down her arm.  I asked what that was from.  She said it was from working.  I asked further and she explained that DP made her wash the tables at his lovely place of employment.  I asked what she washed with and it was something in a bottle.  It was one of the few times that I emailed DP – but I went straight to my email.  It turns out that #1. Yes, he does make her work.  And #2. Yes, the cleanser is highly toxic.  And #3. No, he had no idea it was on Ellie’s arm.  And #4.  He is not surprised it burned her arm. 

I told Ellie that day, no more working.  No more chemicals. 

Ellie says to me, “does that mean, I can’t flip eggs and work in the kitchen?”

Are you kidding me?

The man continued to amaze me.  I could just picture a 5 year old flipping an egg in a restaurant and him thinking that was okay.  Not on a regular stove.  But on a restaurant, huge stove that had the potential to burn the crap out of her. 

*****

Ellie had started seeing a therapist to work through all her sadness and issues with her dad.  Dr C was great with her and Ellie really loved going.  It was my hope that Dr C could get her to talk a little more than I could about her dad. 

Whenever I tried to get her to talk, she was very quiet.  Ellie and I have an amazing relationship.  We talk about a lot of things.  But about HIM, she was always very quiet. 

The therapy helped a lot.  They did play therapy, where they either colored or played with plastic people and made them into scenes about DP and me and Ellie.  After, if Ellie gave the approval to share what had been said or what had happened, I was called into the room and told what went on. 

The things that went on in that room always shocked me and shook me to my core.  Ellie, my sweet baby girl, had the strongest, angriest feelings toward DP that I have ever heard.  It made sense, or course, but I didn’t know that was all inside her and it just ate me up that she was holding that in. 

There were reasons for it.  She just wasn't willing to share it yet.  But, we were getting closer to finding out.

**** 

One week from today, April 18^th, in just about an hour, we will be heading back to court for what I pray is the last time.  I feel compelled to write this today because as we get closer, my heart is getting heavier.  So much rides on this day. 

As I have been writing this, I am awe struck by how much my little one has had to live through.  Her entire life has been in and out of the courts.  I pray and hope that it ends next week.  Selfishly, I’d love to ask you to join me in that.  Prayers, thoughts, good feelings… whatever it is that you do.  April 18^th 9:15am. 

Thank you in advance.