The Ink Chapel

So… plot twist: apparently I’ve been starring in a drama I didn’t sign up for. The setting? Courtroom land. The genre? Bad reality TV with legal stationery. Subject? I just want to see my kids without him breathing down my neck.

Today’s highlight reel was brought to me via ex husband Stevie Poo’s formal court response — which, spoiler alert, read less like a legal document and more like the script to his one-man show, How I’m the Hero and She’s the Villain. It had everything: selective screenshots, out-of-context quotes, and the kind of polished victim act that would make even the Oscars say, “Okay, calm down, Daniel Day-Lewis.”

And here’s the kicker: he won. Not because he was right, but because he’s basically mastered the sacred art of Performance Parenting™. The man could crop a text message to make “Good morning” sound like a death threat. The courts eat it up like it’s the last slice of cheesecake at the buffet.

Meanwhile, I’m just sitting here like, “Oh, we’re still doing this? We’re still pretending facts are optional and feelings are evidence? Cool. Love that for us.”

I could rant about it, but honestly? The ending’s already been spoiled. He gets the crown in his kingdom of make-believe.

I get a headache and the sudden urge to toss my phone into one of those burn barrels they love down South.

The moral of the story? Sometimes the villain wins. Sometimes the hero doesn’t even show up to the fight because she knows the ref’s already wearing the other guy’s jersey.

You know those divorced couples who absolutely nail co-parenting? Yeah… my ex wouldn’t recognize that skill if it sent him a friend request. On the bright side, he’s basically my unlimited poetry prompt subscription.

Honestly, this sounds petty, it probably is. I’m just sick and tired of everything I do being taken out of context and used against me. So…

Go ahead, print this out, highlight it, and wave it around as Exhibit Whatever in your next round of courtroom theater STEVE. Because I won’t be there. I’ll be here, living my life, loving my children from wherever I’m allowed to, and waiting for the day they’re free to make up their own minds. Until then, enjoy your hollow victory. It’s all yours.

While this work may seem suspiciously familiar to certain individuals, any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental… and by “coincidental” I mean “you know exactly who you are.”

© Don’t steal my trauma. Thanks.