“Mrs. HorribleHairDay I see you’re here representing Mr. AssholeRapist. Obviously he can’t be here today *chuckle*”
“Yes your honor, we’re here to see if there’s anything we are able to do for Mr. AssholeRapist”
“What are you proposing Mrs. HorribleHairDay?”
“Well…We’d like to continue the same custody order as is in place along with call privileges for Mr. AssholeRapist”
“Custody is not appropriate since Mr. AssholeRapist is incarcerated, Mrs. HorribleHairDay”
“Well then, we’d like more time to look into the matter and possibly work out an agreement with Ms. Silveira”
No. Fuck you. No.
As you all know (if you’ve read my blog from the beginning), I am a single mom. My daughter’s award winning father is not around, thank God. However, even though he’s incarcerated for rape, I don’t get automatic full custody; it’s something that I have to actually file for. So that’s what I did. Ever since he’s been in prison, I’ve let him call and talk to my daughter and I’ve let his side of the family spend a weekend with her here and there. Of course, as any normal custody process goes, I had to have him served with paperwork. As soon as he caught wind that I was trying to get full custody of my daughter, who I’ve been taking care of on my own anyway, he sent a lawyer and his shitty sister-in-law to represent him in the case. Who fucking does that? A control freak that’s who.
I walk into the court room, relieved that I’ll finally have sole custody of my daughter. Relieved that the decisions I already make on my own, will be legally my right to make. Excited that I won’t have to answer to him, or consider his opinion, or deal with him doing things behind my back. Like enrolling my daughter in a less than satisfactory school behind my back. Or stealing my car. Or wiping out our bank account. All of these things won’t be possible for him. He has no rights. He is a rapist. He broke the rules. Denied. You cannot pass GO. You cannot collect $200. You. Suck.
Little did I know that he would have his ugly sister-in-law there and a lawyer, ready to take my rights away. Ready to fight me in this pointless battle. As soon as I saw them, my heart sank. I immediately wanted to cry, I was so livid, I felt that I had no control over my life and over my already fucked up situation. At first, I found out that the sister-in-law was trying to get custody rights to where my daughter would go to her house every other weekend or so. Over my rotting, filthy, dead body. It’s unfortunate that he’s brainwashed his family, so much so, that they really believe I’m an inadequate mother. I’m a great mother. Every decision I make is based around Victoria’s well being, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO letting his shitty family see her and letting him call her. I don’t HAVE to do that. I don’t HAVE to play nice. I don’t HAVE to stop my family mid sentence when I know they’re going to bad mouth him in front of my daughter. I don’t HAVE to be nice to his ugly, whore sister-in-law (who he’s sleeping with…Yeah…His brother’s wife) or let her see Victoria. I can say…Oops…Your dad ditched you. He chose to get his dick wet honey, sorry. He chose 5 minutes of pleasure, while you slept in the next room, over your stability and well being. Why would I feed my daughter such negativity? Or surround her with such negative words, actions, and people?
That’s my point. Her father is such a control freak that he really believes he can keep me from having full custody while he’s in prison. What did he think was going to happen? Did he think I was going to drop her off at the prison every weekend and let her bunk with him and his roommate, SemiChub? Perhaps he thought the guards were running a daycare. His sister-in-law, who is not blood related, has nothing to do with anything. I have no idea why she chose to stick her huge nose in our business, besides the fact that she feels a “special” connection with him…Which still has nothing to do with this. I had to go to court THREE times for the judge to finally say, “Mrs. Silveira, I’m granting you temporary full custody. Once Mr. AssholeRapist is released you will go to mediation and they will decided what will happen. If you can’t agree on something once he’s released, I will see you then”. Of course his lawyer doesn’t want to go to mediation because she knows exactly what will happen if we do. All I need to utter is…R.A.P.I.S.T. That’s it. She desperately wants to reach an agreement. Well you can shove an agreement right up your hairy twat because IT IS NOT HAPPENING! Mind you this is the same lawyer that worked on his rape case. Uhhh….Who’s dumb enough to make the same mistake twice? He is apparently. This same lawyer had the audacity to say that the only reason I wanted him convicted was because I wanted full custody of my daughter, during his trial. All of a sudden I am an unfit mother? MAKE UP YOUR MIND HAIRY!
All that has mattered to me this entire process is having my daughter. From the very beginning, it’s all that ever mattered. Not the house. Not the cars. Not the motorcycles or furniture. None of it! If she really mattered to him, why is he okay with ripping her away from her mother? Why is he okay with kicking us out of the house and moving in his scummy sister-in-law and his brother? Why was he okay with not giving me Victoria’s bed when he knew I was getting my own place? He doesn’t pay child support. He bad mouths me. He brought random women around my child when he was out and had some sort of custody. Yet…I’m a horrible mother. I dare them to give one good reason as to why I’m a bad mom. I have a good job, I love my daughter unconditionally, I don’t curse in front of her, I feed her, I bathe her, I make sure she’s in school, she’s a happy child, she loves being around me and she is being raised properly. Sure, no one is perfect. However, he really….Really doesn’t give two shits about anyone but himself.
I’m glad that I was granted full custody but I fear the battle that is ahead of me. He will forever be around to make my life hell. They anticipate he will be released in the beginning of next year which is actually half the time he was sentenced. I don’t know how to feel. I should feel triumphant, but I don’t. I feel the battle isn’t over. I feel like it’s going to be ripped from me again. Why do I have to keep clawing at this wall? Why can’t I just climb over, get to the other side, and just be? He will never let up until I give up, and I’m never giving up. He’s a sociopath. I fear the unknown. What being in prison could have possibly done to him.
At the end of the day, I’m not seeking empathy or compassion. I work hard for myself and my daughter. I’m getting it done.
All of these women moan and groan about being single mothers and their deadbeat baby daddy’s. You lucky bitches.