Tomorrow I see a therapist

For the first time in a year I'm going to see my old therapist. There are some issues I've been bottling up inside and I need to talk to a live somebody rather than an online somebody. Besides Mrs M. I don't get to talk to many live people these days.

It's an issue I've never spoken about on BP Daily. A family issue. You see BP Guy is a Dad. Not a legal Dad, mind you, only a Natural Dad. And believe me there is a HUGE difference between the two. Something I only found out about 3 years ago in the legal battle for my daughter.

My daughter, who I will call Miss L. from now on, is 13. Her mother and I never got married, and the pregnancy was only learnt about on the same day that the short, turbulent, passionate (but disastrous) relationship was finally going to be ended once-and-for-all.

It's a long and complicated story. I lived with Mom, and Miss L until Miss L was 2. But never married. Then we spilt, a move most definitely in the best interests of all. Mom remarried and Miss L got a new half-brother and a happy, cosy and secure new family.

and THEN....

Mom died. A Brain clot struck out of nowhere and she was gone within 6 hours. Sheeeet, I remember the day. Mortification, man. Downed a whole bottle of whiskey.

and THEN...

legal explorations. Step-Dad wants to keep Miss L. BP Guy wants Miss L. I thought it would be a cut and dried case. I mean step-Dad never officially adopted her - I wouldn't allow it. So I got me a lawyer and Step-Dad got him a lawyer and then the fun really began.

You think you know your rights? You think you know the law? You think the judicial system will protect you? Ha!! Wait until two coniving, money-grabbing attorneys get involved. Things get bent and twist until you can no longer even recognise them. Money starts developing a huge leverage power of its own. Your history of "mental illness" mutates into all sorts of weird and horrible variations.

I sunk 80 000 bucks into the legal proceedings. Then I was told the actual courtcase would cost me another 80 000 bucks, so I fired my lawyer and decided to represent myself (this is BP Guy we're speaking about, the guy with the public speaking phobia).

Bottom line - a deal is cut on the steps of the courthouse. Step-Dad keeps Miss L, BP guy gets to see her every second holiday.

That's the abridged factual version. But there is a whole other underlying emotional version which cannot even begin to be abridged. A version that starts rearing its ugly head every time Miss L comes down to stay. Like now.

Conclusion: Lamictal ain't gonna heal this one. Therapist needed.

I'll report back on the session tomorrow.