He proudly boasts about how his children are denied access to stories and communities and friends and kin because he believes these things are less real if they are shared across hundreds or thousands of miles.
He tells me my relationships, my creativity, my song is unreal.
He tells me I am unreal.
He believes he is helping me.
He is not.
He is a therapist; he is a father; he is a coach; he is a guide in so many ways.
The only thing he offers me is dissolution.