Post 21 ~ Part 7 - I Can’t Prove It, But I Can Pray

During that month, I stayed in California, I also filed for divorce and requested visitation so Karl could come to Washington. His dad and I had been legally separated for five years, and it was time.

But what I didn’t expect was the anxiety that came with it.

This would be the first time I had to face him since DCFS took my kids away. To say I was scared is an understatement. I could feel it in my chest before I even walked into that courtroom.

Bill was back home in Washington, so I knew I had to face this on my own. Or at least, that’s what it felt like at first.

The truth is, I wasn’t alone. I had to remind myself of that. I needed to stay grounded, stay clean, and stay prayed up. That was the only way I was going to walk through this.

When I stood in front of the judge and saw him, the fear hit instantly. But then I thought about Karl. And I knew I had to face him for my son.

Because the DCFS case was closed, the judge sent us to mediation.

In the divorce paperwork, I asked for nothing. I didn’t want anything except visitation with my son.

But his dad fought me on everything.

He looked at me and said, “How do I even know you’re clean?”

I could feel the anger rise up in me. I had fought so hard to get to this point, and part of me wanted him to see it, to acknowledge it.

But instead, I had to show it.

I presented character references from people who had known me over the last year and a half. People who had seen the change. Even my parents wrote one, speaking to the turnaround they had witnessed.

Still, he asked, “How do I know you won’t go back?”

That frustration came up again. That need to prove something that cannot be proven in a single moment.

But this time, I stayed calm.

I said, “No one can answer that, but I can pray.”

In the end, he agreed to let me have visitation, but only when I was in California, with my parents supervising. I could have phone calls on Mondays and Wednesdays.

It wasn’t what I wanted.

If I’m being honest, I felt defeated. I was hoping for more. Those expectations will get you every time.

But what I learned in that moment changed something in me.

Just because I was doing better did not mean others could see it yet.

Just because I was living a life of recovery did not mean people were ready to trust it.

And just because I had changed did not mean the hurt, I caused was gone.

That kind of healing takes time.

I knew this was not the end. I was going to keep fighting for my son.

And I also had to remember something I did not always like to hear.

This was happening in God’s time, not mine.

If you are in a place where you are trying and it feels like no one sees it yet, I want you to know I see you.

Have you ever had to keep showing up even when no one believed in your change yet?

If this speaks to you or reminds you of someone you love, share it with them. Someone out there might need a reminder that change takes time.

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