"hey why dont you get your own kid you fucking dumb bitch hope your happy now that you took my life from me trust me kage life is bitch and you will get yours the end you fat pig you know what s funny is i had a kid and i still look better then your sorry ass you suck and and will never know how grat it fells to have something better then your self ps you fat just so you know lol thanks for showing my baby how to be sick you ass hole dont worry this is the ladt time you her from me but let it be known my little one will knoe the truth when she is older i lerft her a book night bitch hope you get over wht ever it is you think is wrong with you you brat"
Nice, hey? This is what was waiting for me when I finished my last show. I had two stags last night, and they both actually went super well, though the second one was a bit awkward. It was a group of lesbians, and it was interesting to see who would get jealous when I would give their girlfriend some attention. I wasn't entirely sure what to do about that, as I have only danced for lesbian parties a handful of times, so I started pairing the girls off with their significant others and then involving them together, at the same time. Anyone who wasn't comfortable with the whole thing could just say no, and I wouldn't touch them or their girlfriends.
No, the parties last night weren't what got me, and weren't the setting for when some guy would impose his will upon me. It was between stags, when I was lost in the Poor Neighborhood area. I won't write it all right now, I'll just paste in the police report when Bf and I get back from the cop shop, but suffice it to say, it wasn't good. And how interesting is it that it didn't happen at a stag, nor in my capacity as an exotic entertainer. I was just a regular old civilian, and he was just a FUCKING DOUCHEBAG.
I was in a pretty lousy headspace when I got home. When Bf had called earlier to see where I was, I had told him about Baby Momma's letter and the douchebag assaulted me in Poor Neighbourhood. By the time I got home I was so angry, I just started yelling at him and crying and throwing things around. I blamed him for Baby Momma's latest onslaught, though I know that he is doing his best to handle her. I ended up refusing to go to bed with him, as I wanted to stay up and write a scathing letter to Baby Momma. He went, and a few minutes later I followed him.
"What's baby Momma's email address?" I demanded, shaking him awake.
He begged me to just leave it for tonight, that I could write it but wait until tomorrow before I sent it. He eventually calmed me down enough to agree to write it tonight, and then if I still wanted to send it in the morning, he would give me her email address. I stormed back downstairs, but fell asleep while I was rereading what she had sent me.
I woke up around quarter after ten this morning. when Baby came downstairs and started playing with my hair. My eyes were sore and swollen from crying, and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. Bf hovered around, methodically asking every five to ten minutes if I was alright. I had started crying again almost immediately upon waking up, and after a half hearted attempt at normalcy by eating some oatmeal, I gave up and went back to sleep on the couch.
I woke up again to find Bf checking his Facebook on my lap top. I sat up silently so that he wouldn't delete anything before I could see it, and read over his shoulder.
There was a new status update (or whatever it's called) from Baby Momma:
"Hey happy you and your dumb bitch took over my life and now my little one has no clue who I am well I guess it good but how good can it be when your girlfriend is a cracker hahaha oh well at least I can have my own baby."
I don’t know what I am supposed to do here. One part of me is happy; Baby Momma obviously knows about my eating disorder, which is a major stress that has now been lifted; she is also providing me with more and more evidence to bring to court to prove that she is mentally unstable, a raging alcoholic, and emotionally abusive, and is therefore an unfit parent. But the other part of me that has had all that she can take from this fucking psycho wants revenge - wants to stoop to her level, and do something awful to hurt her back. I want to wrench and tear at her heart as she continously does mine.
Bf told me that she has accused us of doing this deliberately. Her latest claim is that we have been brain washing her daughter into believing that I am her real mother. I have done nothing of the sort, but what does she expect when baby is here five out of six weeks? I have her half the time she is here, as Bf works 11 hour days and only gets one day off a week, plus I am here in with her in the mornings and evenings, too. Baby and I have spent an awful lot of time together in the past five weeks, but this was not my decision - it was BABY MOMMA'S. In all truth, I think she is feeling guilty for hardly ever seeing her daughter, and she is taking it out on me. It is so fucking frustrating - I understand her leaving baby with us when she needs to work. But last week, she left Baby with us 3 out her HER 7 days, and she wasn't working ANY of those days. And I know that at least one of those days she ditched Baby so she could go out drinking, as I have the evidence of her drunken rage in the form of that letter. SHE is the one who keeps ditching her daughter - it makes me SICK that she has the fucking nerve to accuse me of trying to steal her daughter when she can't be fucking assed to act like Baby's mother.
When all of this first started, and I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when it came to children, I read the book “What To Expect, The Toddler Years”, and just did what it told me to do. It must have worked, as shortly after I put my newfound knowledge to use, Baby became somewhat infatuated with me. I don’t ask her to favor me - in fact, I feel awful when she pushes her dad away or tells him to leave her alone, she wants Kg to do it! I just did what the book told me to do! But the more time I spend with her, the more instinctual it has become. The book gave me a great foundation to start with, and with it’s guidance I have discovered what I believe is a great way of parenting. I KNOW that I am a good parent, putting love and kindness at the forefront of everything I do, always making sure that Baby knows she is a good girl and is loved and cherished and safe from harm, even if her mother is too busy getting drunk and banging half the guys in Calgary. But I have also learned to create boundaries, hopefully to help her grow from a self centered toddler into the sweet little girl I can already she that she is. Baby Momma accused me of not being able to care for her child because I am not a mother, and therefore could not possibly know how to care for her daughter as well as she does. And I can admit that initially, I did have to consult the manual for everything that I did. But the more time I spend with Baby, the more I am beginning to trust my instinct. And now I am pretty sure that I know just as much as Baby Momma, if not more.
I am meant to watch Baby a few days this week, and on the day after I got Baby Momma’s letter, I found myself wondering aloud to Bf if it would be better if I didn’t. I wondered if maybe we needed to put some distance between Baby and myself, to try and slow down her increasing fondness for me. Bf pointed out that I would just be doing exactly what baby Momma wants me to do, which is to distance myself from Baby, and why should Baby have to suffer as a result? I agreed, but the next day with Baby I found myself taking a different approach, despite myself.
“Do you miss your Mummy, Baby?” I asked her as we were playing in her room.
“No,” she said bluntly.
“Oh,” I said, momentarily stumped.
I tried again. “You love your Mummy, don’t you, Baby?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “I love Momma Kg!”
“I love you too, Baby,” I replied hastily. “But do you know who else I love? I love your Mummy! I sure do miss her, don’t you? She’s so pretty and nice! I love her so much!”
Baby didn’t reply, but I spent the day waxing lyrical about her mother and pointing out the difference between Mommy and Momma Kg, trying to get her to repeat the nice things that I said. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but eventually I realized guiltily that what I was doing wasn’t really fair to Baby. I was, just as Baby Momma had accused, trying to make Baby think a certain way, the way I wanted her to. Eventually I gave up. Baby was going to think and say whatever she wanted to, and it was wrong to mess with her head and tell her that anything she thinks or feels is wrong. I would just have to bear the brunt of her mother’s rage the best I could.
I had actually been enjoying another brief hiatus from Baby Momma’s lunacy before the Facebook letter on Saturday night, as I changed my phone number and blocked her on my Blackberry Messenger, but they never last - her anger always finds a way to reach me and burn me. This latest slew of emotional abuse is nothing less than I expect from her, but it still hurts. The fact that she now knows about my eating disorder and is going out of her way to call me a fat pig at every opportunity is really hard on me. I want so badly to prove her wrong, to shut that vicious mouth of hers by getting skinny again. And it hurts that she keeps referring to my past problems with drugs, because I have fought so hard to overcome them, yet thanks to her I feel like I have done no work at all, and am still in active addiction. The only course of revenge I have is to keep getting better, so that I can prove myself in court and disprove all of her accusations, but to be honest, it is incredibly unsatisfying. What I want most is not actually to hurt her per se, but just to find a way to SHUT HER THE FUCK UP. I knew that she would go out of her way to impede my recovery from my eating disorder once she found out, and she is certainly doing that.
I’ll end this post with two texts that she sent to Bf the day before her drunken letter to me on Facebook:
“Hope your happy now Bf’s given name now you get what you wanted hope you and your ltyle family are happy have a good life I will send you money for baby.”
“Tell Kg she wins I guess crackers can have babys to all they have to do is take them from someone? Well at least she doesn’t have to getfat.”