child "support"

The sadness is growing in me. I think it's a beast larger than myself.

Well, of course it's larger than me. It's been larger than me from Day 1...27 August, when I got your letter.

The letter I have only read a few times. I keep it with me, but I have only read it a handful of times. It hurts to read, and there are so few clues. I trip over the bit about loving me and C too much. I don't understand; you assumed I would.

Or maybe you just knew that I wouldn't ask questions.

I know why you had to write me that letter though. I mean, why you had to break up with me via a letter and not over the phone or, um, in person...like I freaking deserved.

Because you couldn't.

You love me too much to break up with me in person. You couldn't look at me and break up with me. You know this. I'm not saying this because it's what I want to believe; it would be a lot easier if you were a jerk and callous and didn't care for me at all.

So what are you doing these days? Collecting disability. Are you surprised that I know that? Oh, charming and inappropriately cheerful social worker named Dawn has called me to get my address so that the state can send me a check...because C and I get a little bit of your disability money as child support.

I never called Dawn back, though. It's been two months now, and she only called that one time. Clearly, it's not a pressing matter, taking care of C. I didn't call Dawn back for a lot of reasons. I don't trust my anger around her. She's so cheerful all the time, and it's not only inappropriate, it's deeply hurtful. I can just imagine her notifying someone in the most chipper of voices, "Your relative died!"

I also don't like the idea of this child support. We both know your parents are milking the system. They're cheap assholes who make more than half million a year--and yet they, who repeatedly vote against it, make you get as much help from the state as possible. That's fine.

But child support. Oh, that implies support! Where the hell is support for me, raising this child?! I didn't have C with the intention of ever being a single mother...and yet now, I have an enormous responsibility on me, and it terrifies me. I am so screwed up myself, how could anyone entrust me with C? There is no such thing as child support. It's BS. I don't want your fucking money, I don't want the state's money.

I want your health back.

But that won't happen. There is no such thing as a holiday miracle. I won't hear from you or your family on C's birthday next week.

I am so alone, I think I could disappear and no one would notice.

But people would notice, because they expect things from me. I have told people, "I'm not doing well," and yet they forget...or think that this total heartache will evaporate within minutes. (The more generous people give me hours.)