It Hurts When...

... your young son states/asks you (for the second time in about six months): "Mum, we're poor, aren't we?"

and so, you go through the motions of describing just how "rich" you really are - you slept in a warm, dry place last night, you have food in the fridge, you have clothes, hot water for a shower, the two cats (and even enough food to last them into tomorrow), a car with a tiny bit of gas still in it, friends, books, toys, a computer, DVDs and music...

and you say that no matter what happens, people are important, not things, and that wherever you are, wherever you end up, you will have each other and the people that care about you...

and at the same time, you swallow the bile that rises in your throat and the anger that's swirling in your belly, as you think about the boy's father, who, because he can't stand the fact that he is no longer in control, is doing his utmost to make life difficult, to punish you for refusing to accept his abuse...

and you shake your head at the complete insanity, where this man does not realise that when he does what he does, he's hurting the child he says he loves, not you...

and that's just how it is...

PS:   I have a question... Why would it be so hard to sit down - for about the 20th time in six years - and write out all the facts, events, reasons why what's being presented in court by an abusive man with narcissistic traits and schizoid tendencies, ought to be ignored, dismissed, thrown out?  You would think it would get easier, pretty much formulaic with so much repetition...