It's been a number of days since last I "blogged". Sounds something similar to vomiting or some other bodily reaction.....

Never the less here I am. "The days have gone down in the west..." from whence my visions of joy and a semi-happy life came. I am a mere 22 days out from the final commencement of my divorce proceedings. While some small part of my inner-being is rejoicing in this knowledge the remainder of "me" has begun to realize the finality of it all. The joy that was once felt in my heart has dwindled to brief fleeting moments in time......

The days of seeing my children on a continous and expected manner have gone by the wayside. I have been reduced to being with my children merely one evening a week and perhaps one day on the weekend (or more realistically every other weekend). This troubles me to a depth in my soul of which before now I was purely and whoely unaware of. I have discovered that I dwell in this place almost continuously now as there is little else that I can concentrate on. The "substantial penalty for early withdrawl" in my children's lives is all to real now. I have watched as my children, like fine silken fabrics, have begun to unravel in the torrent that is "DIVORCE". They grow more angry and more depressed day by day with no sign of reprieve on the horizon. To watch, almost helplessly, as they descend the depths of torment is nothing short of heart wrenching...

I have accepted that my life will be nothing more than passing moments in time with my children and work. I have little choice today about how much time I spend with my children although it is not nearly enough for me or for them. It seems as though even in a "Shared Custody" divorce someone still gets the "short end of the stick". I will never dispute "Child Support" in any way. I am happy to give what little that I do to help suport my children. After all, I was part of the decision to bring them into this world and as such bare the responsibility willingly. However, now that I no longer live with my children and can no longer claim any benefit of being their father, Uncle Sam has seen fit to adjust my wage witholdings to a level barely above the drowning mark. Due to this unfortunate fact I must now work 52 hours per week to receive the same net income as I once did only working 40 hours per week. This significant increase in work time has necessitated a severe decrease in my quality time with my children.

There is no easy way to explain these thing to children. They know nothing more than "Daddy doesn't come over anymore...". You simply should not tell young children that work must come before they do even though that is the situation. My children simply do not understand the reasoning for all of these changes despite my best efforts to help them. My children are all that I am alive for but for all of my love and devotion to my children I can do little else than work. Perhaps some day they will be able to forgive me....