I rarely dream about you, but tonight I did.
You and I went out on a date. We were going to see some show at the performing arts center. I picked you up. You looked nice. We made it to the theater, but I had left the tickets pinned to my bulletin board at work. You were very angry.
Based on the fact that you tell people we know and post on the Internet that I tried to kill you and the kids, and based on what you’ve said in court, and the fact you actually turned me in for leaving voicemails and sending emails asking about and expressing love for the kids, I have come to the conclusion that you are pissed off at me.
Maybe you feel you have been wronged by me.
I know you think you’ve had a hard time and you probably blame me for it.
Consider that you have what you wanted because I made it possible.
When you wanted to get out of Washington, I rented a larger apartment and flew up to drive you back.
When you wanted to buy a house we couldn’t yet afford on one income, I did it.
When you wanted to have children, I was there.
You wanted to decorate this, change that, buy this, buy that. My meager salary wasn’t going to be enough in the long run, so I basically killed myself trying to build a business that would provide more than an employee’s wages.
I was on call 24×7 for years. There were no vacations.
When I went a little nuts, you threw the “in sickness and health” thing out the window and told me you were going to leave me. You told me all those terrible things about doing all the guys you ran around with in high school.
I went a little more nuts.
You had the relationship with the art teacher.
I went a little more nuts.
I yelled, I screamed, I kicked the walls.
You ran from the house, called the cops, and worse, my dad. 🙂
I did a great job in the stand off, didn’t I? I mean, they tried to get in this door, then that door. They tried to distract me. I’m guessing the event ran into their lunch hour because they got bored and left. I bet you were pissed.
You were going to need money, so I gave you the balance of my 401(k).
I didn’t try to hang on. I didn’t beg and plead, no matter how much it hurt.
I didn’t get in the way even when I knew you were picking out a new dude. I didn’t say anything when you said you weren’t sure if you were ready to give up your family.
When the judge said to give you half of what I had put in the bank since the breakup, I gave it.
When the judge said to get out of the house in three days, I got out.
When you wanted the preliminary order for custody made to limit me to only supervised visitation, I didn’t fight that. I even didn’t fight it when you said that my father would not be an appropriate supervisor.
One day I was feeling sorry for myself and I said a terrible thing which you know I didn’t mean.
You filed the protective order which I did not fight.
The protective order said I was not to have any contact with you or the kids, no phone calls, no letters, nothing, for three years. When I asked for a way to see the kids, the judge had a provision added where I could see the kids if I paid to see them at the parent/child center. Of course, I wasn’t working and couldn’t afford to pay child support, how was I going to come up with $70/hr to see the kids?
When it was divorce time, I didn’t even get an attorney, because I had already decided to give you everything.
Let’s review the divorce settlement: I quit-claimed and gave you my equity in the house; I did not ask for my half of the only car we owned; I gave you all the furniture in the house; I took all of the debt in my name (about $75,000 in formal debt to banks plus $310,000 to the family members who invested in my business); and I didn’t argue with any arrangements you wanted for the kids.
Then, you tried to stick me with your $1200 credit card. That was a nice touch. I liked how quickly your attorney scratched that off when I suggested that we take a full accounting of our martial debts and split them. Smart man. I also liked how he shushed you when you tried to argue about it. His value wasn’t in handling me, it was in handling you.
When you filed to terminate my parental rights, I did not fight it. Dad had already told me that Tim intended to adopt the kids. That’s what you wanted, so I allowed it.
You now have the three kids you always wanted, you have a guy you call your “devoted husband,” you have a nice house to live in, etc., and you’re rid of me.
Your mind works in mysterious ways. Maybe you really do think I tried to kill you and the kids with a sentence over the phone, but I doubt it. First of all, it’s just silly. Second of all, I love those babies and you know it. And third, a monster doesn’t give up everything in a divorce to do what he can to help his ex-wife and kids.
Do you remember when I stayed up all night watching my daughter to be sure she didn’t knock her little goggles off while she was sleeping in the light box? Check out this baby!
You’ve now asked for another three year protective order. Thanks to all the legal stuff going on, you’ve had the new temporary order continued for almost a year. If you get the new three years, it will have been seven years when I finally have the opportunity to see the kids.
Of course, having the opportunity doesn’t mean I will see them because now they’re no longer legally my kids.
When this hearing comes up in December, please remember that you used to like at least 10% of me, and you used to respect at least 1% of me: Please, please do not continue with this protective order thing.
I would really love to see the kids before they grow up, even if only for a few minutes.
What do I gather from that dream? I tried to do something nice, but I screwed it up, and you got mad about it.
I love you and I want you to be happy.
Please do not use my stupidity against me in court because you are angry.
Thanks,
Joe Winett (a former husband)
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