Kryptonite only works on Superman

It's amazing how fast you can go from the hero to the villain in your own story.
I've been away from the blog for a while, for reasons which will become clear if you continue reading.
Since my last post, I had actually thought I'd hit bottom, was turning a corner...I had the gall to actually feel hopeful about the future, that somehow I could turn things around and get back on my feet and that things might be OK.
What a fool.
In the midst of getting ready to leave South Carolina (having worn out my welcome there, being a burden to my family and not finding work) and all of the stress that entails...I got served papers from my son's mother.
It's unusual enough for the doorbell to ring at my parents' home...especially so after 8:30 at night.
Good news does not just 'pop over' at their place.
A knock at my door said the doorbell was for me and a clerk of the court handed me a thick sheaf of paper, made sure he had the correct person and that I was aware who had sent it.
Never having been involved in a formal legal preceding, I was hoping for a bit of sympathy.
"Well, you knew that was coming," said my Mom...she's all heart.
Sparing you the details the paperwork apparently spells out custody, support and visitation rights and responsibilities.
A college friend and lawyer is looking over the fine print for me.
I don't read or speak 'legalese' but, from what I gather the chances of me being able to spend time with or around my son are fading fast and, even if allowed, will only be on his therapist's approval.
His Therapist.
The boy is not even four years old and I, through my own short-sighted, selfish, base and vile behavior, have put my perfect, precious, amazing, beautiful boy into the hands of some unknown, unseen therapist of his mother's choosing.
According to his mother the sessions have been 'devastating' and she has asked me to do what's 'best' for him and remove myself from his life.
Maybe she's right.
I had said, in the depths of my grief being away from him that, if I thought for a second, he would be better off without me, I would do it for him. As much as it would hurt, as much as it would turn my heart to marble and my will to vapor, I would do it. For him.
Being faced with that possibility, however, is harder than I could have even imagined.
Through everything so far, the one thing that kept me going...the one thing that made the work worthwhile, that made the nights beating my head against the wall and being forced to face the ugly truths about myself worth the effort, was the presumption that the work would earn me a place back into Connor's life.
Connor and I were supposed to be a team...mentor and protege, best friends, cohorts, playmates..I was supposed to provide him with what I and his mother didn't have...the love of a father.
I was supposed to be his hero...and instead, I've become the icon of blame for everything that will ever go wrong or not according to plan in his life.
I used to say that sex and cheap thrills, and seeking to indulge every base instinct were my Kryptonite...the thing that could weaken and destroy me.
But, that isn't right...Kryptonite only works on a hero...what destroys a villain is himself.