Stop the Ride

I got a phone call here at the office a little while ago from a client who had a few questions; I answered here questions, and then she went on to say, "I have one more question that has nothing to do with my insurance," and I just got that sinking feeling in my stomach-and before she could even ASK the question, I said, "Yes, I am so-and-so's ex-wife." Sure enough, that was exactly what she was going to ask me. How did I KNOW that? I am not sure, as I certainly don't believe I have any special powers of precognition or anything like that, but still, I knew.

There ensued a too-long conversation about the ex, what he has been doing and where he is at now, and it left me with a headache and a sour stomach. I was so excited last month because I had a line on where he was living, which meant that maybe, if he stayed there for any length of time, I could get Child Support Services back on his tail; and I did let CSS know where he was, but of course the wheels of "justice" are slow, and they were not able to serve him with paperwork before he upped and moved again. This time to another state, but not the one he was living in before he moved back to Idaho the last time, which further complicates things. I just feel so hopeless and despairing that anything will EVER be done to him, which in the lexicon of a toddler throwing a tantrum, is just "NOT FUCKING FAIR." You would think I would know that by now; this battle has been going on now for years, and you would think that I would totally get the fact that his rights and responsibilities are both greater and smaller-he has far greater rights than I, as a single mother, do, and his responsibilities are far less. Still, it is frustrating and disheartening, and I just want to lay down and cry.

As if that weren't enough, when he packed up and moved, he also loaded up a "borrowed" vehicle full of someone else's drugs, which means he has a couple of pissed off dealers after him, and this is where the headache and sour stomach comes in. See, we have been here before; we have dealt with the middle-of-the-night phone calls from angry, violent men looking for him-even though he was my ex. We have been through the weeks of having the house under police surveillance 24/7 for our protection. I have been through the sleepless nights wondering whether or not the little noise outside the house was, in fact, the neighbor's dog having gotten loose or whether it was someone who might bust into the house looking for the ex, the money, or the drugs.

I thought we were safe; I thought that was all over and done with, and while I bitch and vent and cry (for both practical and emotional reasons) about his lack of responsibility, I would rather feel safe than have his fucking child support-hands down. It would be great in a perfect or even okay world if I had both, but now I have neither. I would like to think that the dealers know that threatening or actually harming me nor my children isn't going to make any difference to the ex; it isn't going to make him cough up any money, because he simply doesn't give a fuck. I would also like to think that if they watched me and my kids for one day, they would see that I have no extra money that I could have gotten from the ex-but. Yeah. Right. Because dealers are known far and wide for their great powers of perception and kind hearts. Mmm hmm.

So okay, this also seems insignificant but I hate the fact that someone I work with-one of my clients, no less-has made the connection between me and the ex. I have tried to keep it under wraps-when people come in and ask for my family tree (this is a small town, and since the last name is a common one, they want to find out how, in fact, I connect to so and so), I don't LIE, but I do say that I am not from around here and my ex-husband wasn't, either. I don't like to advertise the fact that he is such a loser and a criminal to boot, because whether it SHOULD matter or not, it DOES. It just makes me feel a little ill that now this person who trusts me to provide a service for her now knows this-because it is just a little leap ahead to think she might assume I am cut from the same bolt of cloth. I am not, my boss knows I am not (not only do we live in a small town, but we have a small office, so the basics are known), the big-ass Department of Insurance, after an extensive background check, also knows that I am not a criminal, but it still makes me feel unsettled and uncomfortable. I want to scream as loud as I can, "THERE IS A REASON WE ARE NOT STILL MARRIED!!!"

I guess my only consolation is that this woman-and while I know of her and her husband, I don't know them-knows the ex quite well, and some of his friends are HER friends, so maybe I shouldn't worry too much about what she think, right?

I am still just sick, though, that all of this shit is right there again. It brings up all sorts of unresolved issues, a lot of anger and fear and disgust, and I have been guilty of thinking, "Hm, if one of the dealers DOES track him down, maybe they will take him out and at least I would get Social Security for Sam!" Which would be heartbreaking in a lot of ways, but I also think it easier for a little boy to accept death rather than abandonment. I don't know. I try not to think that way, not because I really care about what happens to the shitfucker but because I don't want to fuck up my own Karma.

Sigh...I don't like this ride and I want to get off.