Category: Rants Page 1 of 3

Last year was a blight on my personal history. I’m not sure that I have ever lost so much in so little time.

I lived.

What now?

Stability: My life has been in near free-fall since 2013. I need peace, routine, structure. Not just for myself, but for the kids. Achieving new stability is Job I.

Prosperity: According to the USDA Calculator, raising my 2 children this year will cost $18,718 and that just covers the basics. There is no budgeting for the physical and emotional enrichment of a child. She/he develops interests and parents must provide as they are able.

Well-being: I have had to cope with a freighter’s manifest of issues. The effort has taken its toll, but I leveraged the damage with some fun times, great people, eating well, regular exercise and plenty of rest. Keeping myself mentally and physically fit is good for the kids and great for me.

Organization: Some fourteen months after moving back into my home, I need to sort through months of mail, set up a filing system, secure my important papers, clean up my e-mail and save all my personal pics and vids to the cloud.

My Home: The place is fairly new, but there is plenty to fix and clean. Fresh interior paint would be nice. Proper landscaping in the front and back yards will make a huge difference. Comfy furniture, eye-catching art, knick-knacks…we need it ALL!

The Future: Ahh, my plans are no secret. No need to rehash.

I closed out last year with a string of moral victories. I’m absolutely pumped for 2017. When things get murky and I need a lift, I’ll remind myself of the following:

1. The kids have endured tremendous upheaval. They’re young and there is plenty of time for them to recover, but I cannot rest on that. The sooner I am able to execute a five-year plan, the better their chances for stable adolescence.
2. I want to resume the activities that have been a cornerstone of my relationship with the kids. Before the proverbial roof caved in, the three of us really got around.
3. I want to LIVE again. I like movies, shows, concerts, camping, dining out, dancing, travelling and moving this body! I ain’t built for hard times.

The one thing I haven’t had of late that makes these things possible is disposable income. We’ll see about that, but I mustn’t forget that time with the kids is not to be sacrificed on the altar of the Almighty Dollar.

Oh, I’m excited. While the worst of times seem to be behind me, there is yet a long hike back to base camp. The dreams, the promises, the goals and the great payoff all lay dead ahead.

Can I get there? No doubt, but they say it’s all about the journey.

Let’s see:  2 checking accounts with negative balances, 1 repossessed car, 1 car on deck for repossession, 1 home very near foreclosure, unemployed (but looking) and living off $187 a week.

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Tough sledding, these days. Last July, Northampton County’s Domestic Relations Section (“DRS”) seized my emergency reserve.

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There were two cars in my driveway last night. This morning, there was one. Collateral is beginning to disappear. Not a good sign.

When I noticed the missing car, I didn’t bat an eyelash. I had fallen behind on the note and the bank did what it had to do; nothing to be done.

September was an active month with the cleaning out of my grandmother’s apartment. October, however, has been a waiting month with hearings and their resultant decisions, hence I’ve watched the phone and the mailbox. The results haven’t been great, but as usual, I take the blows, heal up and get back at it. Now that I have the answers I’ve been waiting for, I can move forward.

Under normal circumstances I’d go into detail, but I know that all eyes that fall upon these texts are not friendly. I’m not a secretive person, but for now, my plans must remain my plans.

At the heart of my secret plans is significant self-determination and, paradoxically, complete transparency. There will be an unveiling of my intentions and actions before concerned parties, but no call for subterfuge.

At some point, the truth must prevail. Not only have I consistently told the truth, I have slowly collected evidence. More than that, I’ve done my part to garner support while not responding to petty provocations. Sticking to the facts might be old-fashioned, but it’s a gamble I am willing to take. After all, my kids are watching.

I’ve always preached to them the power of truth, but I gotta admit truth has taken one heck of a beating over the course of this divorce. No more. I am sick and tired of losing what I have worked so hard to earn for them and for myself. The bleeding stops here.

Lack of finances has forced me to research online how best to help my cause. Fortunately, a number of programs exist to help men in my situation. The challenge is wading through the plethora of information available. For example, a Google search for “emergency help” reveals a number of paid ads attached to “.com” addresses (a tell that such links are commercial come-ons) before the appearance of “.org” addresses, not all of which are legitimate. Nevertheless, “.org” is generally the way to go.

I am preparing myself to, yet again, face the bureaucrats sans personal, professional advice. In the past, this would not be a problem. However, this time, the stakes are much higher, the opposition never so motivated.

Of course, the personal bias of any bureaucrats or court officers involved is a factor, but I will keep coming back with the truth as long as there is a mechanism by which to deliver it.

My motivating factor is love for my children and the wish to teach them a way of life less complicated by distortions of fact and more dependent on faith and trust in others who have earned these. Haven’t we all seen enough of what secrets, duplicity and lies do to families?

Groan…

No day without my kids is ever as good as it could be. The constant struggle to stay relevant to them has become a mental prison, a visit with them an occasional furlough.

The lack of hope that things will improve given the bias against fathers practiced by the divorce/support/custody complex is a weight tethered to the ankle of my spirit. I feel like I can never be the father I aspired to be with the limited time the kids and I share. It is a feeling I could not fathom at the birth of either child. It is a feeling I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

The best days are when I can suppress thoughts of the never-ending battle to rebuild after the needless destruction of divorce. I am able to immerse myself in things that draw my complete focus. Other days, thoughts of the kids, the time together we’ve lost, memories that we’ll never share and an uncertain future assail me like poltergeists.

The situation might be temporary, but that’s cold comfort as Halloween approaches and the theme of the season permeates the air. Even if I were lucky enough to have them this year, I am flat broke and struggling to hold on to the sole asset I can pass on to them, the house I bought to raise them.

Just five years ago, my life was on track and the future for the three of us was bright. I had a healthy 401K and owned a rental property to use as collateral to help with the kids’ college costs and finance their special occasions. Divorce changed all that. Deliberately, rapidly and irrevocably.

No one heard my regular and civil protests that the split could be amicable. No one cared how an acrimonious split would negatively impact the children. There was no attempt to reason, no consideration of a smarter divorce, just an all-out assault on decency by a depraved lawyer enabled by a woefully flawed system. Fine. What’s done is very done.

Yet the drama continues despite my lack of interest in reprising my role. Even as I focus on building a new life, I am still forced to endure repeated court appearances. The next one will be October 26th re custody. I can hardly wait.

There can never be a doubt that I love my children, but I am sick of being told what constitutes that love or what is proper proof of that love. I know how I feel about them and how they feel about me. When we can be together without the weight of the divorce/support/custody complex hanging over our heads, we are fine, have always been fine, will continue to be fine. But that weight is there and will be there from now on.

It was neither my choice nor the children’s to involve the courts in our healthy, mutually loving and supportive relationship. Now, we have no choice. We can only do our best to dance to the beat of a drummer with no rhythm.

It’s all up to the bureaucrats now. The questions have been answered, the forms filled out and the paperwork signed.

The effort I put into providing a decent life for my family has mattered little to any government agency I deal with. I guess now, it’s all in the hands of God.

Currently, I am dealing with Northampton County, Pennsylvania’s Domestic Relations Section (“Domestic Relations”) and the New York State Department of Labor (“Labor”). Domestic Relations regulates my child support and Labor provides my income while I’m unemployed.

I have not worked regularly since February. When my last employer terminated me, I was granted a severance package which expired in May. I had some money saved up that I intended to live off while I spent as much of summer as possible with my kids.

As of July 13, Domestic Relations discovered the bank account holding my reserve and froze it without notice. As soon as I knew, I scrambled to find a source of emergency income.

My research led me to Labor’s web site. The morning of July 14, I successfully applied for benefits with the effective date of July 4. This was wonderful, but any joy I took was short-lived.

I asked Labor to change my effective date of benefits to the expiration date of my severance package which was May 11. This would entitle me to benefits covering the period from that date up to July 4, roughly seven weeks. Labor denied this request after several weeks of wrangling. I appealed the determination and participated in a hearing by phone October 12. The decision is pending.

This past September 27, I attended a hearing with Domestic Relations to decide the amount of child support I would pay during my unemployment. My support was lowered, but Domestic Relations, again without warning, attached my Labor benefits.

My Labor benefit is $371 a week net. Of this, Domestic Relations takes $183, leaving me with $187. This princely sum barely covers the gas I burn on the 12-mile round trip from my home to the Domestic Relations office in Easton.

The upshot is that two bureaucracies charged with “helping” what is left of my family is actually destroying it with awful decisions that completely disregard my welfare. I am in jeopardy of losing the home I bought for my kids, the car that would transport me to and from work and the car I bought for my ex-wife (which she abandoned, though I remain responsible for the note). I am struggling to pay my auto insurance, utilities, child support and sundry expenses.

I am in the unique position of having one bureaucracy trying to lock me up for not earning enough and another putting a strangle hold on what I earn. The agencies do not work together to help me survive this ordeal, but each works to keep my pockets empty.

The challenge for me is to figure out how to remain a good father with no money, no car and no home.