18-Nov-2014 I have lost my job. The stress of the break up, the psychological and financial strain of family court. The rumours of my crimes make it worse. I desperately want to see my daughters. My repeated attempts to do so always fail, if not through judicial indifference then to a mother who flatly refuses to abide by the court order. People in my work and across my industry hear the story. The shame is complete. A do gooder has anonymously called around and kicked off the rumour mill, the word spreads like an uncontrollable fire. People view me differently when they see me as a bad man, a beater and molester of wife and children. Worse things too but I can’t bring myself to share them here. They are truly appalling to think let alone share. We don’t like or need your type around here is the new order of the day. I can’t afford a car anymore, my clothes wear and I unable to replace them. How do you go from successful city man to virtual tramp in just 2-3 years? Sometimes, on a good day I even laugh at my own miserable transformation. Friends in and around my stockbroker village mostly turn their backs on me and the calls and texts are rarely returned. A few nervously befriend me but ensure it’s not too well known. I am a pariah. No one wants to be associated with my kind of man. I’m introduced to the term deadbeat dad – I am the man David Cameron Prime Minister spoke of on Fathers day 2011. Some have the balls to say it to my face; usually women who see it as their job to stand up for other women. I don’t know what to say to them; they’ve already judged me and usually their decision is final. There’s more to our story I want to say to them, equally there’s more story than time and their interest allows. They know me better than I know myself.
Posted on: Wed, 19 Nov 2014 01:00:34 +0000
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