Hope - 11 months in.

It’s an interesting word.

Hope.

We can’t put it in a box.  We can’t map it out on a medical device or scientific monitor.  We can’t earn it, buy it, or sell it.

Hope just is.

Or it isn’t.

I can’t tell you how to find hope.  Most days early on in this program I felt like I was just stumbling upon it.  Like some bigger force was opening doors when I couldn’t even find the knob.  But hope is real.  It exists in the eyes of the dreamer, the artist’s canvas, the mother’s lullaby.

We aren’t human without it!

Hope for a better job, hope for a person that ‘gets’ us.  Hope for a child to grow up knowing the love of his father.

Tonight I got to hear someone exclaim “I quit my job”, and I was ecstatic!  Because hope CAN be taken away from us.  We let life whittle us down to shards the size of toothpicks and we get caught in the Roller Coaster of Disaster (a new name for one of the ones at Six Flags?!).  My hope is this dear soul finds a place that they can thrive.  I’ve wished and been praying for them - a new job, a better work-life balance.  <Better be reading this Ashley!! Lol>

For me, I built a bench recently.  A bench built for two.  I’ve sat out under the stars several nights and wished…

I know where my hope comes from.  It was given to me again in November of last year.  I am thankful, beyond grateful that there is a power beyond this world that continues to look after this crazy boy.

But I’m also a man.  A man who is standing, doing the next right thing, one day at a time.  To have hope and to sit on our laurels, our dairy airs, our asses and do nothing is meaningless.  I’m all for believing.  Hell, the song that I’ve probably listened to the most in my life is Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’.  But life takes action, movement, luck, faith, trust (still working on that one), and yes, hope.

It’s like the BEST Beef stew of all the things that make this life tick.

Salt.

Paprika.

A really deep sauce.

A really good piece of meat.

Potatoes…

You get the gist!

Tomorrow I hit 11.  11 months of truly working on me in a different light.  I’m going to share some of the words that I’m sending to the court below.  I’m fighting for my son.  It’s not about winning or losing, it’s about showing up.  I didn’t show up real well last year for him.  And every day now I make sure that he sees my face, he hears the words 'I love you' and he knows that I care.

~ Peace, 

The Burtle

Letter to the Court - October 2021

In November of last year we had a court date for this court case, regarding my ability to be a father to my son and the safety or lack thereof that I might be to him.

In 2020 I was broken.  Like many people I faced the obstacles of a pandemic and on top of losing myself, I also lost my job, my living situation, a deep love, and my mother.  I faced November of last year not wanting to be here; suicidal at times throughout the year.  I’m not going to shy away from that.  I was broken.  When we came to court on November 4th  I wanted nothing more than to be done with all of this.  I had faced my childhood abuser without any success in finding peace there.  I don’t know what else more could’ve been taken away from me last year until I lost the ability to see Topher.  And that took away the last of my hope.  

I don’t know what else I can tell you about how hard last year was.  How bad it was for me and also how much it affected those that I love the most.  Especially a little boy.  I will take the time when it’s appropriate to explain that to him.  Right now it’s about me showing that I am stable, healthy and sound.

After that court hearing I decided that I couldn’t do this anymore.  The meds my doctor prescribed weren’t working and counseling didn’t seem to be getting through to me.  At my lowest, I found a moment where I wanted to live.  And in 48 years it may have been the first time where I truly asked God to help me want to live.  I’m not going to get into my spiritual experience, other than to say that a moment on November 19th, 2020 changed everything.  I didn’t suddenly become better.  But on that day I made a decision to live.  There had always been an underlying current of thoughts and feelings that resonated from the abuse when I was seven years old.  But now for the first time I saw hope.  I reached out to my counselor and we set a plan in motion.  I couldn’t afford to get into a rehab facility; after racking up several hundred thousand dollars worth of medical bills last year it wasn’t an option.  What we did is devised a simple plan for every day.  A plan that I still follow today.  I made a phone call to a hotline and joined an anonymous group that opened their arms to someone who struggled.  Not just with substances, but with life.  I did this for me.  Because I had nothing else. 

I had $29 to my name in October of last year.  I fell behind on my child support and could barely afford to buy food and pay for a small apartment that I had to help do work around the facility just to keep.  I got a sponsor and I immediately started working on the things that I could do.  I got clean.  I haven’t had a drop of alcohol or any substances in my body other than the prescribed ones since that day.  I continue to diligently work on bettering myself.  I was out of work for over a year and then I found work.  Over the last 11 months I have found a safe place to live in a recovery setting.  I have worked the steps. I was able to work enough to fully catch up on all of my child support obligations, getting a full-time job as a Carpenter, a new career that I love. I continue to go to meetings daily and I continue to reach out and connect with other people who have had similar struggles.

All of this I’ve done for me.  And I’ve also done it for a little boy who needs to see a healthy father.  For two older kids who need to see a man standing.  I do not disparage Jenelle for being concerned.  She doesn’t know my journey.  She’s seen some of the very ugly.  I’ve included several letters from those around me, my counselor, people with a lot more wisdom and experience in dealing with these things than I have.  All I’m asking for is to be given the opportunity to be a dad.  In the flesh.  He is that important to me!

Sincerely,

Chad Chatham