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Pushed to the Limit

  • By Time to Put Kids First
  • 08 Jun, 2016

(Stock image to protect identity)

Author: Matthew
Edited by Ben Williams 6/8/2016

 I was raised to be a protector and a provider. I was raised to value the simple things – family, honesty, integrity. My mom was the most loving soul, the most kind, caring and compassionate woman you could ever meet. And, my dad, the roughest, toughest, hard-working good ole boy you can imagine. Life was good, it was simple, things were easy.

 I fell hard for Dawn. I treated her like the princess that I believed she was. We had three beautiful, healthy boys, who I envisioned to have a childhood like my own… hunting and fishing, camping, hide-n-go-seek and causing innocent trouble in the neighborhood. I never imagined I’d be taken from their lives, serving time in prison and not even recognizing them in pictures.

 Some of you can read my story and maybe feel a little empathy for me, because most of you have experienced the pain of having your children unjustly ripped from your lives. But, to everyone else, I’m a monster. I’m someone my children need to stay away from to keep them safe, because of how I handled myself when they were first taken. You see, for those who don’t know, you can talk about how much you will protect your kids no matter what. You can say you’re a big “momma bear” that won’t let anything ever happen to your child. You can like your posts on Facebook with the dad holding a gun when your child’s date shows up at the door. I’m here to tell you it’s all a crock. I’m here to tell you that when the state gets involved, and when lies are thrown at you without notice, there is nothing you can do to prepare or to protect your kids.

 This is one of the things that I don’t see anyone talking about. In those first moments, those first weeks, months, how do you handle having your children ripped from your life and your soul? How do you anticipate everything and look like the ‘model parent’ in the eyes of the court and public opinion to make sure you can remain a part of your children’s lives?

 I went to jail for false allegations. That was the initial separation from my boys. I showed up home from work, with the boys watching through the windows as the police handcuffed me and put me in the cruiser. I never saw it coming. I knew my ex had some emotional things going on, but she always talked to me about them. We had a great relationship, or so I thought, and she was the love of my life. But, apparently, she got some good bruises on her somehow that day, and she said I did it. They weren’t from me. I’ve never raised my hand to a woman in my entire life. But, of course, the cops come to pick me up, and I don’t take it lying down. I screamed for my boys. I threw some punches. I surely put up a good fight as they pulled me away.

 I slid into depression, and I drank a lot of alcohol. I lost the house, the job, the cars and everything. After two other arrests for stalking and other false accusations, when the cops approached me that last time, it was bad timing on their part and on mine. They called me a POS and said I must be a real tough guy to beat on women and my own kids. That sent me over the edge. I was drunk, alone and nothing left to lose except my freedom, which no longer mattered anyway. I had enough. So, a few cops got brutally bashed that night, before they finally got me cuffed and in the cruiser. I went to prison, and it’s now been three years. I’m out and clean, but, I’ll never get to see my kids. No lawyer will take my case. They’ll even ask me if I’ve gotten a handle on my anger issues. How can I get a handle on my anger when the only reason I’m angry is because I’ve had my kids ripped from my life, and I’m called an abuser because of false allegations? Am I still angry? Hell yeah, I’m angry.

 People always say “don’t give up”, “never give up on your kids”, but I don’t think you always understand all of the circumstances. I have 3 boys who are petrified of me. I’m sure any of the great memories we’ve had together have been replaced by the visions of their mother’s bruises and the vision of me trying to fight off the police to get to them, as they stared through the window in fear.

 What I hope and pray is that the experience makes them stronger, it makes them aware, shows them that violence isn’t the answer, and it helps them to respect women which is what I would be teaching them if I were able to be a father. In my head, I even imagine them saying things like ‘I’m going to be a good dad in spite of my own deadbeat abusive father’. I’ve come to terms with that. In four years, I’ve imagined every possible outcome imaginable, every hateful word, and even the possibility of them coming to me asking me for the truth someday.

 I don’t know if I’ll ever reach out. I don’t feel that I’ll ever convince them that I’m a good man. I have too many things stacked against me. And, I don’t want to destroy any good visions they have of their mother – and destroy whatever their truth currently is. I don’t want to cause them any more pain. When you’re the loving parent, it’s not about you, it’s about what’s best for the kids.

 I understand that I may be perpetuating the problem, but this is why so many of us “deadbeats” don’t speak up. I will help behind the scenes, but I can’t be responsible for causing my children any more pain than they have already had to endure.

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