Power Struggle

About three years ago, I did something that people called stupid.  Like... incredibly stupid, even for me.  Based on my many 'issues', I signed away full custody of my son.  It was a gigantic blow to my ego, but I couldn't deny that I was an unfit father in the condition I was in.  It had nothing to do with finances and certainly wasn't about not wanting to be with him.  Should something happen to his mother, god forbid, it would leave me to care for him while also juggling my mental health.  On the surface, signing over custody probably was stupid.  You had to look deeper to see the whole picture.  And I don't plan on being without custody forever.  For now, it means not seeing my son very much.

Last week, my munchkin was sick.  It was nothing serious, though it kept him home for several days and his mom wasn't able to take time off.  Being home myself, I was asked to watch him at my parents' - a terrific opportunity, albeit at his expense.  It gave me a chance to be 'Dad' - to care for him, take his temperature, get him something to eat, make sure a full compliment of cartoons was available, etc.  We made scrambled jellybean eggs, watched Curious George, rediscovered the original Optimus Prime that I had stashed in the attic, and played Lego StarWars and Mario Kart.  I even showed him how to fart with his armpits.  What are dads for, right?

But this was all done at my parents' house.  I can't have him at my place because I don't have unsupervised visitation rights as part of the agreement I signed.  Strike one.  My parents also see him every day and I do not.  They're parents to him more than I am.  Strike two.  Finally, they're parents and I'm still a kid who doesn't know a lot about being a parent.  Strike three.

Can you see the potential for tension?  By day three, I was absolutely exhausted and had to get home.  By day three, my parents were absolutely exhausted and wanted me to get home.  Simple things like whether or not to give my son medicine became arguments.  "We're his grandparents and his throat hurts so give him medicine."  "I'm his dad and he told me that his throat didn't hurt so I'm NOT giving him medicine."  (Not a quote, but you get the idea.)

I think we see each side, as mediated by my sister (thank... you).  And I don't write any of this to vent about how my son received care!  I'm hoping my family can laugh as they read this.  I personally think it went well, but the situation stirred a lot of feelings for me.  This was my chance to feel like a real father for a few days, uninterrupted.  I haven't had that in years and it stings to look at how fast he's growing and to recognize that I've missed a lot of time with him already.  I'm usually not available to care and comfort him.

Also, as the tension rose, it was clear that the family was raising questions about MY wellness.  Was I getting aggravated because of a bipolar flare-up?  A little, yes.  Was I getting aggravated because of an impending relapse?  Hell no.  Dammit, I can get upset, just like anyone else!

I may be feeling better, but that doesn't mean life is better or where I would like it to be.  As I put more and more healthier days together, my desire to have "everything as it should be" grows (should, should, should).  My patience wanes and I get irritated more easily when I discover the trust in my relationships isn't at 100%.  That's not fair to others, though, considering how long they've been dealing with this.

I've made it this far.  I need to push these issues aside, as I can't change them, and simply continue to grow in health and happiness.  It's been damn hard work and I don't plan on stopping now.

And thank you, very much, to my family and extended family for helping with my son.  You have no idea how much it means to me.