Mother Strength.

The funny thing is that my daughter’s father responded very quickly that he really wanted to “help me”, and that if my treatment at the clinic lasted five weeks, he could take care of our daughter without any problem. Still, I had a strange feeling in my stomach, and somehow I knew something had a catch. It was as if there were other intentions behind his words. I told him about this feeling the day before I checked in at the clinic. I told him that I was absolutely sure that he would do something against me during my stay at the clinic. (I have all this in screenshots of written WhatsApp messages as proof). He swore to me that he would not do absolutely anything and that this was the “paranoia” of my “illness” (depression).

I, deluded, still in my dream of keeping my family together, trusted him again and again. This was my mistake.

Three days later, in the evening, I received a written message by SMS from the homeowner of our family flat, informing me that my husband had terminated the contract and that I had to leave the flat within a maximum of 30 days. Two days later, I received a letter via regular mail to the clinic with three printed and already filled pages.

The 1st. Sheet had written instructions from my husband to me, regarding what I should do with the other documents. The 2nd. Sheet was already filled out, and it only needed my signature to confirm my allowance for my daughter to go live with her father and the 3rd. Sheet also needed my signature, and there was also an allowance giving my permission to the welfare office to transfer the benefit intended for me, directly to my husband’s bank account, but not to my own account.

Of course, I did not sign any of these documents, and I immediately made an appointment with the clinic’s social worker, my psychologist, and also the doctor who would be in charge of the entire program.

I explained to them the reason why I could no longer continue on the program even though I was quite interested. It was urgent that I left the clinic and return to the city the next day to be able to look for and get a flat, or else I would lose custody of my daughter for not being able to provide her with a home. It was a very strange moment when I was waiting at the train station with my large suitcase for my return train and yet it was a feeling of safeguarding my little daughter’s love and our right to stay together. I was ready to protect, defend and fight for my right to be a mother if it was necessary.

When I returned to the family apartment, even though my child’s father had theoretically not lived there for a few months, he kept the keys and refused to give them back to me. He no longer paid any rent there. When I opened the door, I found out that the flat was not in order as I had left it before leaving for the clinic. There were several plastic cups and the floor was dirty, it looked like a party had been held, clearly without my permission and without me knowing.