This Is A Test

This is only a test. If this were an actual emergency, panic attack would shortly ensue followed by rapid consumption of Effexor, Xanax, Rescue Remedy, other assorted medical sundries and large quantities of ice cream.
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All kidding aside....I feel like this IS a test of some of my new skills of staying grounded, staying present and dealing with uncomfortable feelings.
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The last time I had to deal with a Child Support issue was in August of 2008. It's been well over a year. I like it that way. I like not having to think about it too much. I do check Bianca's bank account regularly to be sure payments are coming in. For the past 2+ months, payments coming in from her biological father have been less than the ordered amount.
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While I detest the thought of resurrecting the case, I have little faith in the system after my experiences with it. I've fought tooth and nail for every small victory. So, while the underpayment isn't huge and even though I don't need that money for day to day living, I can't let it go unchecked for long. Today I called Dept of Child Support Enforcement. I spoke to a representative who saw no reason for the underpayments...no obvious change in employment status or anything. He said 99% of the time when this happens, it's a change in salary which prompts a reduction in child support payments because, by law, the non-custodial parent must be allowed to take home a certain percentage of thier pay. I am familiar with this law and I also assume it's the reason for the reduction but instead of "Oh, I see", or "Okay, thanks", I say "Uh huh...?" as in "I'm now waiting for you to tell me what you're going to do about it.....??" Brief silence as the man waits for me to give any indication that I'm going to accept that answer and go away. Shhyeah....right. He's obviously not dealt with me before. Finally he speaks "So, I'll send a letter to his state in order to prompt an inquiry and find out what's up." Great, thanks.
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In the course of conversation, he asks the obvious question...."Are you in contact with the father at all?" I wish. I wish it were that simple. Don't I wish I could just pick up the phone or jot off an email and say "Hey, what's the story?" This brings up all the feelings I have about how I backed into motherhood. It evokes shame in having to admit that I created a life with a man I essentially did not know. It raises the needle on my "Rejection Meter". I must be unlovable for my daughter's father to have nothing to do with us. In times past, I'd probably cave and write him an email, pointlessly hoping that this time would be different. This time, he'd come clean and tell me the truth. This time, he'd ask about his daughter and how she's doing, maybe want to see a picture. Somehow, magically, the email from me would draw out his paternal feelings and he would turn into a standup guy who wanted to do right by his child.
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Right now, I'm fighting my anxiety. I do not like to wait. I'm the person who, when the computer is "thinking" with the hourglass, I'm clicking *Enter*Enter*Enter* Click*Click*Click Esc*Esc*Esc* Click*Click*Click....Alt-Ctrl-Delete!!!!! AAAaaagggghhhhh!!!! Waiting is painful for me. So to put this latest inquiry into the hands of overworked strangers who don't give a crap about why he pays me less since he is, after all, still paying me and to know that I will probably wait 6 weeks to even hear that maybe they actually did send a letter to his state after all is tough. To give up my attempts to control, drive or rush resolution gives me angst. The angst is what would generally push me to act hastily and email him. Inevitably, I'd get some BS subpar reply from him which would piss me off even more, send me on some ginormic father tangent and land me on my therapist's couch for an emergency session.
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Today, I'm grappling with the discomfort of knowing it's out of my hands. I am living with the unease of knowing I cannot control it. I accept, with difficulty, that he's nothing more than a DNA donor and I cannot ever expect anything different. I am not contacting him. I am not taking responsibility for the lying bastard he turned out to be. I'm not calling myself names because I chose to believe his well-rehearsed lines. I will focus on the utter joy that is my dimpled, smiley little girl.
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This is not about me, or anything I did wrong. It's not about my father and how he abused me. It's simply a question about a court ordered financial arrangement. And despite my propensity to snowball one tiny idea into reliving a lifetime of pain and failures, I'll leave it at that one small question. I'll stay grounded. I'll live in the present. And I'll take one giant step forward into my progress.