The Long Walk On Short Pier

I'll probably get some flack for this, but oh well.

As my faithful readers know by now, I became pregnant with Lily via artificial insemination by a race of supernatural beings looking for something to do one February night in 2001. Or something along those lines.
Since then, I have bounced back and forth between sympathy and disdain for the sperm donor. Call me crazy, but I thought he'd come back and want to be a decent part of her life when he was ready. When he got another girl pregnant and left her, my eyes began to open. Now that he's left a third baby behind, my cloudy vision is gone.

It has taken me 6 years, many tears, a new and wonderful relationship, several false starts, numerous endings, endless prayers, days of Scripture reading, and several great friends and family members to strengthen me enough so that I can say:
I'm tired of being torn, mistreated, cursed at, coerced, lied to, defeated, and scared.
We have a family, we have a life. We don't need you.
God has a plan for you, but it doesn't involve us.
Through God I am strong. I can end this.
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There is a site called PostSecret. It started as one man's community art project and grew into a multinational phenomenon. He set out hundreds of blank postcards all over his town and invited passersby to take one, decorate one side with their darkest secret and mail it to him anonymously. So here is my PostSecret, going in the mail tomorrow.