That's the pathological thing -- the appointment gets missed, and the the doctor's office turns to me to deal with it (because they know she won't). So her failures become items on my already jam-packed daily agenda. And since the Girl Child Herself has needed, since age 1, an annual visit to the pediatric cardiologist, and since an appointment with the guy is as hard to come by as a Coupe de Ville in a Crackerjack box, not putting it on my to-do list isn't an option.
As for being inside her head, for me it's mostly an intellectual exercise, no different than the work I do, trying to determine why policymakers chose X instead of Y. I don't need to understand, in the sense of coping with the changes -- I'm just curious how someone who once seemed so normal could become so comprehensively out-of-whack.
The whole gratitude list thing is way beyond my comfort zone. It's sort of like religion in that sense -- I find it vaguely embarrassing. For me. If it makes other people happy, that's outstanding. But the idea of sitting down to concoct a list -- indeed, the idea of needing to actually think about things that make me happy, when from my POV it should be pretty obvious -- would require a considerable leap of faith. Far broader a leap than even the Jesuit fathers were able to produce.
But with respect to the bigger question, the only way that I can see that would enable me to sever all contact with, and insulate myself against all effects from, STBX is to sign over 100% custody of Themselves and move away.
At the moment, however, as tempting as the "move away" part is -- there are some fine houses in Denmark -- the "sign over 100% custody" piece is a non-starter.
On the other hand, if the judge orders it, well... goddag Danmark!
