Topic: What Is My Part?
I spent the first five months of 2010 writing a blog entitled "Saying Goodbye to You". In it I was preparing myself for the horrors of losing my husband to pancreatic cancer and just plain old losing my husband of 22 years. Prior to getting married, we had dated off and on for four years, so really our relationship had lasted 26 years. Most of the time we had been together as a couple but we had had a few break-ups during which I would try my hand at dating, not exactly a favorite pasttime. I have never enjoyed dating, especially first dates, and am clumsy at it at best.
I would be duplicitious if I omitted the part about my biological clock. It was ticking loudly back then. I wanted to have a child. I couldn't imagine ending my life without offspring. Like most women, I felt I had strong maternal instincts. I also wanted a family. I wanted togetherness, I wanted to feel loved, I wanted the unity, commitment and dedication that come with having a family. At the end of my first marriage we had started trying to conceive. That attempt had opened my eyes to the fact that I didn't see a future as a family with my first husband, that he had a horrible chip on his shoulder and felt comfortable with it---he loved his chip. After all, he had inherited it from his father with pride. There was no way I wanted any child of mine to grow up thinking all people were out to get him or put him down. That was just crazy. By the time 1988 rolled around, changing husbands had become a time-consuming effort. And I felt my time was running out. What this amounted to was me being in a hurry to find a new mate and have a family. I didn't feel like I was in a position to be too picky, and I thought I loved Bill. In fact, I thought he was the love of my life. At the time, I didn't think I was 'settling'. Where the truth is-----I don't know. But this I know has to happen now: I have to discover what it is I have done wrong, what it is I want for myself, what I will tolerate, and what are 'deal-breakers'. I have been told to make a list.
Before I can make that list, I must understand myself. What is it about me that has contributed to the demise of two marriages? If I blame it all on my exes, if I absolve myself of all responsibility, I will not improve. I will make the same mistakes over again. I vow to dig and to dig deep.
What are the commonalities between the two marriages? In both cases there was some emotional imbalance. What attracted me to two men with mental/emotional problems? Did I mistake depression for introspection? Did I think these were guys with the ability to be in touch with their feelings when in fact they were suffering from depression? Check! I think it would be in my best interest to say 'yes' to that.
Next, and extemely importantly, assertiveness. Mom taught me never to ask/demand anything from a man. When I was a little girl she said that when I grew up, men would be beating down the door for me. I thought it was a sweet comment but I didn't believe her. She, my aunt and my grandmother, the backbones of their families, all said we women just needed to be loved and taken care of. My aunt and my grandmother were taken care of by their spouses. My grandfather met my grandmother's every whim. My aunt's husband adored her, made a lot of money, and took extremely good care of her until the day she died. But while saying I would be taken care of out of one side of her mouth, out of the other side Mom was saying to take whatever a man dished out. My mom was the antitheses of the American woman everyone says marries a man and then sets out to change him. She was more of the variety that married a man, took his friends as hers, his interests as hers, then realized what she got was not working out for her, and instead of trying to change her man, she became resentful of his shortcomings. She felt unempowered to change her circumstances to be more acceptable to her. She would make unflattering comments about her husband but never when he was around. It was as if she was hopeless to change whatever dissatisfied her in her marriages, so she saw resentment as her only recourse. I went through a terribly awkwardly unattractive period from eighth to tenth grades. During that time there was no one knocking on the door let alone beating it down. After the metamorphosis of getting my braces off, getting contact lenses, and discovering hair-straightening products, I came into my own, and I became attractive to boys. When I would get angry or demanding of a boyfriend, Mom would tell me I was wrong, that the boy was too nice for me, and that I didn't deserve him. Put this all together and what message did I get? When you marry, take what is dished out. If you don't like it, you are in no position to change him, so you can be resentful and backbite. That kind of betrayal was permissable. I entered both marriages believing that my husband would take care of me, support a family, 'provide' for me. I thought we shared those common values. In both instances, I was willing to work and help support us on a temporary basis while they finished school or did whatever was needed to establish themselves so that I could later quit my job and raise a family while he 'took care' of us. When my husband made a request, a rule, a comment, I took it in. I acquiesced. I wanted to be that wife my mother had led me to believe I should be. It worked for a while, but then things started to deteriorate. I would realize I couldn't handle what was being dished out and I withdrew. Things weren't going according to plan and I both times I was looking at being the major financial family support. I got resentful and felt powerless. I started seeing my husband as strange, unacceptable, and a social embarrassment. As I withdrew, both times my husbands made power plays. They sensed the distance I had created and tried to get me under their control again: We couldn't do one thing, we couldn't socialize with so-and-so, this or that thing had to be changed. Or,as in this most recent case,there was passive/aggressive behavior that resulted in damage that couldn't be undone. Bill would go out and gamble on the sly. Money that was lost could not be retrieved. You can't go knocking on a casino door and explain to them that the money that your husband lost was a 'mistake' and they should give it back to you. Then, in the final days, I would detach. I saw myself as a completely separate entity, and at times I lived an unrelated and parallel lif: go to work, take care of your business, have your own friends, take your own vacations, eat meals separately. That's how I coped with the unravelling relationship. From my mother's messages, I saw this as the only way I could resolve marital problems and my unhappiness. It was survival mode for me. So here's my part: put up with things that become incrementally more unacceptable, can't feel I can express my own wishes, withdraw from my spouse who begins to look more and more odd and demanding all the time, detach and live a parallel life, and finally throw in the towel.
I have spent much of my life looking for others who had successful marriages. And, sadly, I have found few. I recently asked a friend if he knew anyone who had a successful marriage, and he came up with a whole list. I have never been able to, and I wonder if I ever really had criteria for determining what constitutes a happy marriage. This topic leaves me in a complete fog.
When Bill was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I was already out of love with him. However,I was committed to him. I honored my vows to be a devoted wife to him. But in my heart I felt he had betrayed me too many times to love him the way I had loved him on our wedding day. He wasn't a team player, he had bipolar disorder, he had not only NOT passed the Bar exam and become a lawyer but had spent months out of work 'studying' for the Bar only to go to the first day of the exam and skip the next two because he felt he just wasn't going to pass. This and many other times when we had made big family sacrifices for an endeavor of his, were examples of him not really trying in the marriage. When Laura was a baby we had decided to get life insurance policies on ourselves. It was at that time we discovered that Bill had dangerously high cholesterol. Life insurance for him was prohibitive. We paid for one for a while, but later only I carried a policy. He later developed clogged arteries followed by an angioplasty and, in time, a triple bypass. He had plantar fascitis, type 2 diabetes and, of course, cancer. His health didn't help him be a teamplayer in supporting our household. Then there was the chronic 'sacroiliac' complaints. He couldn't help out with one thing or another because of his sacroiliac. But he could somehow sit at a poker table for hours on end or go out in the mountains and the desert in all kinds of weather with the dogs. But when someone else needed help, his 'sacroiliac' would make him unable to pitch in. And so it went. The theme in the family became one of Bill doing whatever he wanted and me feeling like I had to fill in all the gaps and pick up all the slack. If I hadn't been my mother's daughter maybe I would have seen the points at which I should have said, "Do your share! You will need to get and a job and give X dollars a month to me to run this household. No, you may not buy this or that." Maybe Bill needed a ball-breaking, no-nonsense type of woman to set him straight. Whatever it was he needed, I wasn't it. I was a pushover. I was no match for his cunning and his will.
So far, I have hurried choice and lack of assertiveness. Then poor communication and withdrawing. That's four things. That's a lot to work on. I'm sure there are more.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Ruminations on 2010 Part 3
Topic: My Relationships with Others
Since my teens, I have had an excellent relationship with my father. He never liked children and had little patience for them. When I was in kindergarten, I didn't like going to school. My mother would let me stay home whenever I wanted. One day I told my father I wasn't going to school because I didn't want to. He asked me what I thought would happen if he didn't go to work because he didn't want to. That didn't register with me. He was trying to use logic with a five-year-old. Five-year-olds don't understand logic of that sort. My father didn't like me as a child---or anyone else for that matter----because he couldn't control me with his quiet logic. In fact, my memories of my dad when he was married to my mother, are those of a very critical man. There was virtually nothing Mom could do to please him. I remember one evening she was wearing nothing but an apron to try to initiate some kind of romance with him. But their relationship was unsalvageable. His interests had gone in another direction; he was playing for the other team. My mother was never able to regain his affections or his passion. The naked apron was an exercise in futility. He was in love with a man. They divorced by the time I was in third grade, and my dad picked up me and my sister every Thursday afternoon after school and took us out every other Saturday.
Later my mother and her new husband moved us to Northern California and our visits to our dad became less predictable. But when we visited him in Los Angeles or he visited us in Marin, our time was action-packed. We could always count on a great time with him. We never visited him and had a dull time. For this, I was always grateful because our mother had two small children at home, and life was hum-drum.
I can remember the day my father started liking me. I had to explain something to him. I did it in a very logical and matter-of-fact manner. And I saw a new appreciation for me in his eyes. I had finally become a person with whom he could relate. From that moment on, he and I could always talk. Even when I was a stupid college student, calling him during office hours to complain about my stupid boyfriend, he would sit and talk to me. Even though he undoubtedly had patients waiting for him in those little exam rooms, he would talk to me until I had let out all my adolescent angst. For the next several decades, we talked as friends. When I felt like a complete failure, he was my biggest supporter. I can remember him telling me time after time that he believed I could learn anything I put my mind to. The vote of confidence was huge in getting me through the 'difficult' years, the years when I didn't know who I was or what I would become----or what I was capable of becoming. We had classical music and quiet logical thinking in common. He excused my poor taste in men and husbands. I was, in his eyes, brilliant and capable of anything.
The man who had been so unhappy with my mother had disappeared. In his place was a man who lived life the way he liked, who worked hard, valued education,kept an impeccably clean home, watched his weight---and everyone else's---with an eagle eye, and took careful charge of his money. His choice in men wasn't much better than mine. During his forties, fifties and sixties---and even into his seventies----my dad was a happy and supportive part of my life. On the QT, I heard that he thought my first husband was an excellent choice and my second an overgrown surfer. He and I had time together at the opera and 'visits' on occasion. On our 'visits' we would talk about virtually anything. He was enormously proud that I was bilingual and that I had chosen to put my professional efforts into working with underprivileged children. For years I taught in bilingual programs, believing in the philosophy that if you taught a child in his primary language, the second language would come more easily, a concept based on theories of basic interpersonal communication versus conceptually academic language proficiency. It was a type of education that had plenty of foes, especially people who were knee-jerk reacting to the term 'bilingual education' without any knowledge of the body of research supporting it.
The time came when my dad really wasn't safe to live by himself. In the decade preceding this time, my husband's parents had both become infirmed and died, first his mom and then his dad. Upon realizing that we had been terribly naive in letting his father take care of his mother, Bill and I had been much more attentive to his dad during his last two years. Bill spent a few days a week at his dad's, arranged for care for him, even got a grad student to live in the house with him. Even though he had tremendous issues with his dad, Bill did the 'right thing', and I was proud of him. It was Bill who recognized that my dad's ability to take care of himself and live alone was waning. He had a caregiver come in during the days at first. Then he made sure that either he or I, or both of us, joined Dad for dinner every evening and stayed at his townhouse until he was safely in bed. Bill was right; Dad shouldn't have been alone. It was during this time, in the late spring of 2008, that Dad's walking reminded me of someone on the moving floors of a funhouse. His balance was shot. He was falling and it was only a matter of time until he took a header down the stairs, even though we had installed a stairlift. Dad was truly an accident waiting to happen.
In July we moved Dad to an assisted living facility down at the beach. Bill and I were completely in love with it. We couldn't wait to get old and move in ourselves. But Dad didn't like it, not from day 1. He didn't like being with all those 'old people'. "But Dad," I said, "you're one of them!" It didn't matter. Some people don't see themselves as old, and resent the constant reminders they see in the faces around them. Some people need the companionship of people of many ages. And Dad is apparently one of those people.
Within a couple of weeks we noticed two things: 1) Dad wasn't going to be staying there and 2)there was something terribly wrong with his health. He balanced was horrible, he was having memory and reality problems, and he felt like he had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. We decided to move him in with us. He was delighted. In order to free us up from having to be Dad's companion at the assisted living facility and have time to get our house ready for him, we hired a caregiver to take care of him. Her name was Carmelita.
Dad had been committing malpractice on himself; he was seeing only a cardiologist for his care. He needed to see a urologist, a neurologist, a gerontologist, and a primary care physician. We started making appointments for him. Oh, my God!! Was he ever angry! How could we interfere with his medical care! He was a professional for God's sake! Wow, his back was really up. His boxers were bunched up. He had a cow. He was pissed. Too bad, we said. You're not taking care of yourself. He had a special kind of water on the brain, it turns out. He needed a shunt to relieve the pressure. This water on the brain mimics alzheimers. But before we could take care of that, he developed a huge infection and became septic. He had stopped using his prostate medication and his prostate had grown so that it blocked off his ureter. He had two liters of urine in him. No wonder he felt like he had to go to the bathroom all the time! It was in there; it couldn't get out. He was in the hospital for over a month. The night he came home, his first night living in our house, Bill barbecued steak. Dad choked on it and Bill had to use the Heimlich. Flying steak pieces......
Dad's first couple of months in our house were very sweet. We all paid lots of attention to him and he was sweet and appreciative. He had a catheter. Carmelita was here 24/7. It was a good time. A couple of months later Dad had a laser procedure done on his prostate and it fixed the enlarged prostate problem for good. He now has the bladder of a 30-year-old.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Since my teens, I have had an excellent relationship with my father. He never liked children and had little patience for them. When I was in kindergarten, I didn't like going to school. My mother would let me stay home whenever I wanted. One day I told my father I wasn't going to school because I didn't want to. He asked me what I thought would happen if he didn't go to work because he didn't want to. That didn't register with me. He was trying to use logic with a five-year-old. Five-year-olds don't understand logic of that sort. My father didn't like me as a child---or anyone else for that matter----because he couldn't control me with his quiet logic. In fact, my memories of my dad when he was married to my mother, are those of a very critical man. There was virtually nothing Mom could do to please him. I remember one evening she was wearing nothing but an apron to try to initiate some kind of romance with him. But their relationship was unsalvageable. His interests had gone in another direction; he was playing for the other team. My mother was never able to regain his affections or his passion. The naked apron was an exercise in futility. He was in love with a man. They divorced by the time I was in third grade, and my dad picked up me and my sister every Thursday afternoon after school and took us out every other Saturday.
Later my mother and her new husband moved us to Northern California and our visits to our dad became less predictable. But when we visited him in Los Angeles or he visited us in Marin, our time was action-packed. We could always count on a great time with him. We never visited him and had a dull time. For this, I was always grateful because our mother had two small children at home, and life was hum-drum.
I can remember the day my father started liking me. I had to explain something to him. I did it in a very logical and matter-of-fact manner. And I saw a new appreciation for me in his eyes. I had finally become a person with whom he could relate. From that moment on, he and I could always talk. Even when I was a stupid college student, calling him during office hours to complain about my stupid boyfriend, he would sit and talk to me. Even though he undoubtedly had patients waiting for him in those little exam rooms, he would talk to me until I had let out all my adolescent angst. For the next several decades, we talked as friends. When I felt like a complete failure, he was my biggest supporter. I can remember him telling me time after time that he believed I could learn anything I put my mind to. The vote of confidence was huge in getting me through the 'difficult' years, the years when I didn't know who I was or what I would become----or what I was capable of becoming. We had classical music and quiet logical thinking in common. He excused my poor taste in men and husbands. I was, in his eyes, brilliant and capable of anything.
The man who had been so unhappy with my mother had disappeared. In his place was a man who lived life the way he liked, who worked hard, valued education,kept an impeccably clean home, watched his weight---and everyone else's---with an eagle eye, and took careful charge of his money. His choice in men wasn't much better than mine. During his forties, fifties and sixties---and even into his seventies----my dad was a happy and supportive part of my life. On the QT, I heard that he thought my first husband was an excellent choice and my second an overgrown surfer. He and I had time together at the opera and 'visits' on occasion. On our 'visits' we would talk about virtually anything. He was enormously proud that I was bilingual and that I had chosen to put my professional efforts into working with underprivileged children. For years I taught in bilingual programs, believing in the philosophy that if you taught a child in his primary language, the second language would come more easily, a concept based on theories of basic interpersonal communication versus conceptually academic language proficiency. It was a type of education that had plenty of foes, especially people who were knee-jerk reacting to the term 'bilingual education' without any knowledge of the body of research supporting it.
The time came when my dad really wasn't safe to live by himself. In the decade preceding this time, my husband's parents had both become infirmed and died, first his mom and then his dad. Upon realizing that we had been terribly naive in letting his father take care of his mother, Bill and I had been much more attentive to his dad during his last two years. Bill spent a few days a week at his dad's, arranged for care for him, even got a grad student to live in the house with him. Even though he had tremendous issues with his dad, Bill did the 'right thing', and I was proud of him. It was Bill who recognized that my dad's ability to take care of himself and live alone was waning. He had a caregiver come in during the days at first. Then he made sure that either he or I, or both of us, joined Dad for dinner every evening and stayed at his townhouse until he was safely in bed. Bill was right; Dad shouldn't have been alone. It was during this time, in the late spring of 2008, that Dad's walking reminded me of someone on the moving floors of a funhouse. His balance was shot. He was falling and it was only a matter of time until he took a header down the stairs, even though we had installed a stairlift. Dad was truly an accident waiting to happen.
In July we moved Dad to an assisted living facility down at the beach. Bill and I were completely in love with it. We couldn't wait to get old and move in ourselves. But Dad didn't like it, not from day 1. He didn't like being with all those 'old people'. "But Dad," I said, "you're one of them!" It didn't matter. Some people don't see themselves as old, and resent the constant reminders they see in the faces around them. Some people need the companionship of people of many ages. And Dad is apparently one of those people.
Within a couple of weeks we noticed two things: 1) Dad wasn't going to be staying there and 2)there was something terribly wrong with his health. He balanced was horrible, he was having memory and reality problems, and he felt like he had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. We decided to move him in with us. He was delighted. In order to free us up from having to be Dad's companion at the assisted living facility and have time to get our house ready for him, we hired a caregiver to take care of him. Her name was Carmelita.
Dad had been committing malpractice on himself; he was seeing only a cardiologist for his care. He needed to see a urologist, a neurologist, a gerontologist, and a primary care physician. We started making appointments for him. Oh, my God!! Was he ever angry! How could we interfere with his medical care! He was a professional for God's sake! Wow, his back was really up. His boxers were bunched up. He had a cow. He was pissed. Too bad, we said. You're not taking care of yourself. He had a special kind of water on the brain, it turns out. He needed a shunt to relieve the pressure. This water on the brain mimics alzheimers. But before we could take care of that, he developed a huge infection and became septic. He had stopped using his prostate medication and his prostate had grown so that it blocked off his ureter. He had two liters of urine in him. No wonder he felt like he had to go to the bathroom all the time! It was in there; it couldn't get out. He was in the hospital for over a month. The night he came home, his first night living in our house, Bill barbecued steak. Dad choked on it and Bill had to use the Heimlich. Flying steak pieces......
Dad's first couple of months in our house were very sweet. We all paid lots of attention to him and he was sweet and appreciative. He had a catheter. Carmelita was here 24/7. It was a good time. A couple of months later Dad had a laser procedure done on his prostate and it fixed the enlarged prostate problem for good. He now has the bladder of a 30-year-old.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Ruminations on 2010 Part 1
It seems fitting, as I sit here looking at the snow-covered Selkirks or Purcells of northern Idaho (we still aren't sure what they're called), the exact place I did last year at this time, that I reflect on 2010. It was a year to be remembered, no doubt. These ruminations will be posted in several installments, sort of topically but interrelated.
This year has been painful and tragic. It has broken my heart and I have faced challenges I never thought I would. I am in the midst of a divorce that I still don't understand. I have had lies lobbed at me in court documents. I have had to spend thousands and thousands of dollars defending myself, and I face the possibility of never being able to enjoy the retirement for which I have worked for the past thirty five years. I can do a 'phoenix rising from the ashes' thing. It's important. In that myth, the phoenix dies, becomes ashes and then returns from those ashes as it was before. The phoenix is a survivor. I have done it before; I am a survivor. I appreciate this quality in myself, it is a blessing for which I feel grateful. May it never be said that I am not a grateful person. But if I return from this year as the person I was before, will I be the same? Will I make the same mistakes? Will I have the same frailties? Will I move forward, improve my life, become a better version of the person I was before? And, most importantly, will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? I believe God is NOT unhappy with me. I know He loves me. That's not my point. God loves me and accepts me for who I am. But if He is my Lord, he is also my leader. If He is my leader, what am I doing to better follow Him? Hence my previous statement: Will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? Will the person who emerges from this marriage, this divorce, be a better one? Will she give more of herself to others? Will she do her job in a more giving way than before? Will she work to the betterment of her community (any of the communities of which she is a member)? Will she turn her cheek in the face of insults, stow her ego, be the example God wants her to be in the face of adversity, fatigue, greed, temptation? This brings me to the topic of this paragraph----sorry Mr. Cunningham for not starting this paragraph with it. (Welcome to my world. They don't call me 'Sidetrack Sally' for nothin'. But I do eventually get around to it.) How will I be better after this 'trial' is over?
My life has been driven lately by Proverbs 16:7 "When a man's ways are pleasing to the Lord, he makes even his enemies live at peace with him." What I like about this is the lack of capital letters on the words 'he'. It isn't God who makes the enemies live at peace with the man, it's the man himself. It represents to me the power and change that happens when someone internalizes God's ways. For if a person is truly led by God, if one is led by Christian principles, his behaviors transcend those of this world and separate from the realm of basic human interactions. Is this divorce my opportunity to see how I am being led by my faith? Will I stoop to dirty tricks, deceit, greed? Will I behave by God's standards and obey Caesar's law at the same time? Will my priorities be in sync with God's?
This year has been painful and tragic. It has broken my heart and I have faced challenges I never thought I would. I am in the midst of a divorce that I still don't understand. I have had lies lobbed at me in court documents. I have had to spend thousands and thousands of dollars defending myself, and I face the possibility of never being able to enjoy the retirement for which I have worked for the past thirty five years. I can do a 'phoenix rising from the ashes' thing. It's important. In that myth, the phoenix dies, becomes ashes and then returns from those ashes as it was before. The phoenix is a survivor. I have done it before; I am a survivor. I appreciate this quality in myself, it is a blessing for which I feel grateful. May it never be said that I am not a grateful person. But if I return from this year as the person I was before, will I be the same? Will I make the same mistakes? Will I have the same frailties? Will I move forward, improve my life, become a better version of the person I was before? And, most importantly, will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? I believe God is NOT unhappy with me. I know He loves me. That's not my point. God loves me and accepts me for who I am. But if He is my Lord, he is also my leader. If He is my leader, what am I doing to better follow Him? Hence my previous statement: Will I become more pleasing in God's eyes? Will the person who emerges from this marriage, this divorce, be a better one? Will she give more of herself to others? Will she do her job in a more giving way than before? Will she work to the betterment of her community (any of the communities of which she is a member)? Will she turn her cheek in the face of insults, stow her ego, be the example God wants her to be in the face of adversity, fatigue, greed, temptation? This brings me to the topic of this paragraph----sorry Mr. Cunningham for not starting this paragraph with it. (Welcome to my world. They don't call me 'Sidetrack Sally' for nothin'. But I do eventually get around to it.) How will I be better after this 'trial' is over?
My life has been driven lately by Proverbs 16:7 "When a man's ways are pleasing to the Lord, he makes even his enemies live at peace with him." What I like about this is the lack of capital letters on the words 'he'. It isn't God who makes the enemies live at peace with the man, it's the man himself. It represents to me the power and change that happens when someone internalizes God's ways. For if a person is truly led by God, if one is led by Christian principles, his behaviors transcend those of this world and separate from the realm of basic human interactions. Is this divorce my opportunity to see how I am being led by my faith? Will I stoop to dirty tricks, deceit, greed? Will I behave by God's standards and obey Caesar's law at the same time? Will my priorities be in sync with God's?
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Didya Know????
Did ya know it costs about $35 to get married at City Hall, $350 to file for divorce and $35,000 to pay attorneys to get a settlement? What's wrong with this picture? I contend that our society has blinders on when it comes to marriage and its dissolution. We live in an age---if not a society as a whole-----where marriage suffers greatly from the 'Disney Effect'. Now there's a good title for a book.
What's the Disney Effect (besides a term I just made up)? It's the notion that weddings are grand events and magical moments. And no matter how difficult it was for that couple to get to the point where they walked down the aisle and said their 'I do's', they will, once those 'I do's' are said, live happily ever after. End of movie. No more to discuss. Maybe Walt Disney should have had a Dr. Phil consulting during his movie productions. I contend it was almost reckless of Disney to turn off the cameras (I know these were animated films but how can I describe this?) when he did. Take your vows, and THEN life begins. That is the point when life yells, "Action!" Not, "Cut and print!"
We get our marriage licenses with stars in our eyes. We think we are going to live happily ever after. In so many instances, we don't. I, for one, am a good example of that. I have been married twice. Both times I walked down the aisle as a woman who was incredibly in love. Both times I had stars in my eyes and absolutely no inkling the marriage wouldn't last the rest of my life. Both times I thought I was marrying my soulmate, my best friend, my partner for life. There are absolutely volumes on wedding planning. There are TV shows about sumptuous weddings, bridal gowns costing well into the five figures, destination weddings, and brides competing to see who throws the 'best' wedding bash. Where is the movie that tells you how hard marriage can be? Where is the book that illustrates the beauty of sticking it out, and when to bail out? Where is the handbook that tells us to be flexible? I don't discount the Bible; it's by far the best book ever written. It's God's big instruction book on life. But what it lacks (should I be so bold as to say the Bible LACKS something?) is the specificity on dealing with things like husbands who go into deep depressions and refuse to seek help. [I would bet large sums of money (which, unfortunately, I wouldn't actually be able to pay since I am going through a divorce) that my first husband still hasn't sought professional help for his ongoing and pernicious depressions.] Where is the tome that a starry-eyed spouse can consult when hisorher partner develops a condition that renders that partner unable to fully participate in a healthy marriage? What can a person consult when their spouse is diagnosed with bipolar disorder and she has a 3-year-old to raise? There were a smattering of books, and I read them, but no lifeline, no good answers.
What I am thinking now is that we have more-than-ample resources for planning a great wedding. Our resources for undoing the resulting marriage are limited to, basically, attorneys. Divorce is long, arduous, expensive, and foreign. The language, the approach, the paradigm is not something the average person is ready to tackle. At this point I think only a fool would try to undo a marriage without an attorney. A fancy wedding can cost more than a divorce. Is there a correlation between the cost of the wedding and the cost of that marriage's divorce? I don't think so. My last wedding was almost free of cost. My divorce isn't. And a word to the wise: Even if you think the marriage will last forever, you aren't necessarily the one who makes that decision. Your spouse can divorce you. Hang onto your paperwork. Remember how much you and your properties were worth when you said your 'I do's' because you get to subtract that from the grand total when you ---or your partner----decide to end it all.
What's the Disney Effect (besides a term I just made up)? It's the notion that weddings are grand events and magical moments. And no matter how difficult it was for that couple to get to the point where they walked down the aisle and said their 'I do's', they will, once those 'I do's' are said, live happily ever after. End of movie. No more to discuss. Maybe Walt Disney should have had a Dr. Phil consulting during his movie productions. I contend it was almost reckless of Disney to turn off the cameras (I know these were animated films but how can I describe this?) when he did. Take your vows, and THEN life begins. That is the point when life yells, "Action!" Not, "Cut and print!"
We get our marriage licenses with stars in our eyes. We think we are going to live happily ever after. In so many instances, we don't. I, for one, am a good example of that. I have been married twice. Both times I walked down the aisle as a woman who was incredibly in love. Both times I had stars in my eyes and absolutely no inkling the marriage wouldn't last the rest of my life. Both times I thought I was marrying my soulmate, my best friend, my partner for life. There are absolutely volumes on wedding planning. There are TV shows about sumptuous weddings, bridal gowns costing well into the five figures, destination weddings, and brides competing to see who throws the 'best' wedding bash. Where is the movie that tells you how hard marriage can be? Where is the book that illustrates the beauty of sticking it out, and when to bail out? Where is the handbook that tells us to be flexible? I don't discount the Bible; it's by far the best book ever written. It's God's big instruction book on life. But what it lacks (should I be so bold as to say the Bible LACKS something?) is the specificity on dealing with things like husbands who go into deep depressions and refuse to seek help. [I would bet large sums of money (which, unfortunately, I wouldn't actually be able to pay since I am going through a divorce) that my first husband still hasn't sought professional help for his ongoing and pernicious depressions.] Where is the tome that a starry-eyed spouse can consult when hisorher partner develops a condition that renders that partner unable to fully participate in a healthy marriage? What can a person consult when their spouse is diagnosed with bipolar disorder and she has a 3-year-old to raise? There were a smattering of books, and I read them, but no lifeline, no good answers.
What I am thinking now is that we have more-than-ample resources for planning a great wedding. Our resources for undoing the resulting marriage are limited to, basically, attorneys. Divorce is long, arduous, expensive, and foreign. The language, the approach, the paradigm is not something the average person is ready to tackle. At this point I think only a fool would try to undo a marriage without an attorney. A fancy wedding can cost more than a divorce. Is there a correlation between the cost of the wedding and the cost of that marriage's divorce? I don't think so. My last wedding was almost free of cost. My divorce isn't. And a word to the wise: Even if you think the marriage will last forever, you aren't necessarily the one who makes that decision. Your spouse can divorce you. Hang onto your paperwork. Remember how much you and your properties were worth when you said your 'I do's' because you get to subtract that from the grand total when you ---or your partner----decide to end it all.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Driving Me Home
The other night a friend offered me a ride home from Bible study. She is also my nutritionist. I think she's very, very good at what she does. When I have sat with her in her office while she talks about nutrition, I have enjoyed watching her face light up. She gets so excited about her work. The morning after Bill was diagnosed with cancer, he asked me if we could go see her. She spent the usual two hours or so with him, and talked and talked about what she knew. She does a lot of work with cancer patients, she's a friend of mine, and she wanted to help Bill. She also wanted to be a good witness to him.
As we were driving the short two blocks to my house, we shared our plans for Thanksgiving. Then I started talking about Christmas, I told her how excited Laura and I were about not having to be 'closet' Christmas freaks this year. I told her how Bill used to deride me for getting all excited about baking and decorating, singing carols and whatnot. I told her he had been the Scrinch. That's right, take Grinch and Scrooge, put them together, and 'Voila!', you have the Scrinch, aka my ex-husband. Then she said something that caught me off-guard. She said, "He was abusive to everybody." "How did you know?" I asked. She said, "Because he was abusive to me too. He knows my policy about cancellations but he would miss appointments and expect me not to charge him. And he bombarded me with emails." In some ways that is abuse, especially when it goes on repeatedly. I call it taking advantage, which pretty much sums up a lot of our marriage.
As we were driving the short two blocks to my house, we shared our plans for Thanksgiving. Then I started talking about Christmas, I told her how excited Laura and I were about not having to be 'closet' Christmas freaks this year. I told her how Bill used to deride me for getting all excited about baking and decorating, singing carols and whatnot. I told her he had been the Scrinch. That's right, take Grinch and Scrooge, put them together, and 'Voila!', you have the Scrinch, aka my ex-husband. Then she said something that caught me off-guard. She said, "He was abusive to everybody." "How did you know?" I asked. She said, "Because he was abusive to me too. He knows my policy about cancellations but he would miss appointments and expect me not to charge him. And he bombarded me with emails." In some ways that is abuse, especially when it goes on repeatedly. I call it taking advantage, which pretty much sums up a lot of our marriage.
Court????
In August the judge scheduled a status update for tomorrow, December 2. I have not seen my ex since then. It's been a relief. I have become accustomed to my 'Bill-less' life. I don't want to see him again.
My attorney wanted to settle the wage assignment in court tomorrow. He thought it would be a good time for me, Bill and the two attorneys to take care of that paperwork and get my wages straightened out. After all, they paid Bill twice for October and told me I had to prove I'd paid him myself before they'd undo it. I called my attorney and told him to make it go away. But now Bill is unwilling to change the assignment and it would be a waste of time to go to court if I'm not going to be able to get that.
We've been back and forth on whether or not I'd be going to court. At this moment, it looks like I'm not going. But next Thursday Bill's attorney will take a deposition on me at his office out in Norwalk. I am not looking forward to it. My attorney and I will meet and strategize earlier in the week. I know I will need a strategy. His attorney comes across as a bumbling old guy with a cane but I have a feeling he might be sly like a fox.
My attorney wanted to settle the wage assignment in court tomorrow. He thought it would be a good time for me, Bill and the two attorneys to take care of that paperwork and get my wages straightened out. After all, they paid Bill twice for October and told me I had to prove I'd paid him myself before they'd undo it. I called my attorney and told him to make it go away. But now Bill is unwilling to change the assignment and it would be a waste of time to go to court if I'm not going to be able to get that.
We've been back and forth on whether or not I'd be going to court. At this moment, it looks like I'm not going. But next Thursday Bill's attorney will take a deposition on me at his office out in Norwalk. I am not looking forward to it. My attorney and I will meet and strategize earlier in the week. I know I will need a strategy. His attorney comes across as a bumbling old guy with a cane but I have a feeling he might be sly like a fox.
Limbo
The divorce has been on hiatus, or on the back burner, for some time now. I like the absence of drama and contentious interactions. I don't miss the bullying and taunting emails my attorney forwards to me from Bill. What I DO like is living my life free of another's demands and persnickety behavior. I don't miss the sense of always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the revelation of the latest treachery, for the next insult or instance of bad behavior. I am relieved that I don't have to protect my father from insults or mistreatment. Things could have ended up worse than they did. I am so thankful that it never got to the point where my father was the subject of any abuse, and am even more thankful that my restraining order also has my father named on it.
Since Thanksgiving came last week, I spent time thinking about all for which I am thankful, and the list is long. I am blessed. I am thankful. Even for the little innocuous things. I have most recently started saying that I love my life. And I really do. Do I like having to pay $2500 in spousal support? Do I like paying my attorney obscene sums of money? No. But the end result, my freedom, is priceless. Sorry to sound corny. My freedom is priceless. Whatever it costs me to have this, is worth it. I know people stay in unhappy relationships because they are afraid of the financial implications a divorce might bring. Let me just say----"Don't let that motivate you to stay." If you are fighting an uphill battle, if you feel like you don't know when the next curveball is coming, if you are living in a world where you can't feel comfortable, where your friends or family can't come in and put up their feet, then I feel sorry for you. I have discovered that nothing is more valuable than living a life where you feel you are doing the right thing, living life the way you feel it should be lived, unfettered by the capricious behavior and 'rules' of another, and laughing and enjoying yourself. There is no price tag on that. There is no material trapping that can replace that. I am not a huge advocate for divorce. But sometimes it is not only necessary, it opens the door to a life that is much better than the one you have been leading.
Since Thanksgiving came last week, I spent time thinking about all for which I am thankful, and the list is long. I am blessed. I am thankful. Even for the little innocuous things. I have most recently started saying that I love my life. And I really do. Do I like having to pay $2500 in spousal support? Do I like paying my attorney obscene sums of money? No. But the end result, my freedom, is priceless. Sorry to sound corny. My freedom is priceless. Whatever it costs me to have this, is worth it. I know people stay in unhappy relationships because they are afraid of the financial implications a divorce might bring. Let me just say----"Don't let that motivate you to stay." If you are fighting an uphill battle, if you feel like you don't know when the next curveball is coming, if you are living in a world where you can't feel comfortable, where your friends or family can't come in and put up their feet, then I feel sorry for you. I have discovered that nothing is more valuable than living a life where you feel you are doing the right thing, living life the way you feel it should be lived, unfettered by the capricious behavior and 'rules' of another, and laughing and enjoying yourself. There is no price tag on that. There is no material trapping that can replace that. I am not a huge advocate for divorce. But sometimes it is not only necessary, it opens the door to a life that is much better than the one you have been leading.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Veteran's Day Weekend
The school district scheduled a furlough day for us for Friday, November 12. I thought that was a good idea considering that Thursday the 11th was a holiday. When I first heard of this four-day weekend, I thought it would be a good time to do a road trip to Oregon with Marj. But that didn't turn out and I decided to take the four days and go up to see the fam in NorCal. Kyle's birthday was on Sunday the 14th, and Laura informed me that there would be no traveling on a birthday. So I took off the Monday so we wouldn't be driving back home on Kyle's birthday.
The kids picked me up right after school on Wednesday and we headed up I-5. We made decent time and got to Beth's around 10 pm. We had to stop at the grocery store first. Beth had a miserable cold and on the drive up Kyle announced that he thought he was coming down with a cold. I began to wonder whether or not I was going to be able to dodge that particular bullet. Beth had felt so awful that she had gone to bed before we arrived. Mark was in Idaho and Haley was in a little production of Peter Pan for which Beth had helped do the choreography. The performances were that weekend and Beth was mired in driving Haley to and from the final ---- and very long--- rehearsals. We didn't realize it ahead of time, but we weren't going to see much of Beth that weekend. When we were at the house, she was at a rehearsal or performance with Haley, and the times she was at home she was either sleeping or we were away.
On Thursday Laura, Kyle and I took the ferry into San Francisco. It was a stunningly beautiful day. That city is so gorgeous when the sun is out! I was meeting my friend Tim for lunch. I wanted Laura and Tim to meet but didn't want to put Laura and Kyle in an awkward situation where they would sit around at lunch and have to listen to old stories from our high school years. I thought a few minutes together, just casual and unpressured, would be best.
On Friday we had a little luncheon for five of us who went to high school together. We weren't people who hung out together in high school but somehow we assembled for lunch at Marj's house in Novato.
The kids picked me up right after school on Wednesday and we headed up I-5. We made decent time and got to Beth's around 10 pm. We had to stop at the grocery store first. Beth had a miserable cold and on the drive up Kyle announced that he thought he was coming down with a cold. I began to wonder whether or not I was going to be able to dodge that particular bullet. Beth had felt so awful that she had gone to bed before we arrived. Mark was in Idaho and Haley was in a little production of Peter Pan for which Beth had helped do the choreography. The performances were that weekend and Beth was mired in driving Haley to and from the final ---- and very long--- rehearsals. We didn't realize it ahead of time, but we weren't going to see much of Beth that weekend. When we were at the house, she was at a rehearsal or performance with Haley, and the times she was at home she was either sleeping or we were away.
On Thursday Laura, Kyle and I took the ferry into San Francisco. It was a stunningly beautiful day. That city is so gorgeous when the sun is out! I was meeting my friend Tim for lunch. I wanted Laura and Tim to meet but didn't want to put Laura and Kyle in an awkward situation where they would sit around at lunch and have to listen to old stories from our high school years. I thought a few minutes together, just casual and unpressured, would be best.
On Friday we had a little luncheon for five of us who went to high school together. We weren't people who hung out together in high school but somehow we assembled for lunch at Marj's house in Novato.
REALLY??
This is my first day in a long time where I had complete control over what I did. I wasn't visiting anyone, I didn't have any appointments, I didn't have to drive anyone anywhere, and the one party I was to attend was too far away and the weather was supposed to be stormy. I didn't ride my bike because it was so cold and my knees have been a little quirky since my last ride. I don't think I have been as conscientious about warming up and cooling own as I should be, especially considering my age. I know that if I mess up my knees, they'll never be 'right' and I will struggle with exercise for the rest of my life. So today I didn't ride; instead, I did Pilates in the evening. I need to do the Pilates more anyway because it is the only exercise that flattens my stomach and keeps any semblance of a waistline on me. Left only to bike riding, my body starts looking weird, sort of like a barrel with no backside. I sat around in my bathrobe until almost noon. I went outside and cut roses for the kitchen table-----in my bathrobe. There is something so precious about being able to control my time. I wonder if that is something common to people who have to work. This afternoon I tackled the dreaded pile of filing. I cleaned up my filing drawer, rehung the guides and the existing files, and then I was all ready to file the papers that had been stacking up for over six months. There is still more filing to do, but I am feeling victorious. The files should be all put away by Thanksgiving. How exciting!
Yesterday was payday again. My attorney had submitted the necessary paperwork for Bill to be paid his money twice a month instead of on the first of every month. The secretary put a note in my mailbox saying she had my paycheck. When I picked it up, it was small again. I thought, "WHAT???" I looked on the stub. They had taken another payment out for Bill!!! So, whoever got the new order, didn't read the fine print that said the two payments a month should start on December 1. Now I have paid Bill $3750 for the month of November. Will I ever get that extra $1250 back? Not a chance.
I called my attorney and told him what had happened. He told me to call the person in charge of payroll at the district. I called the person, a guy with a really unusual name, Rsk Rsk. I left a message on his phone at 10:00 a.m. He didn't call back. I called again at 2:30, still no answer. I almost feel sorry for him when he finally has to talk to me. I am losing my patience with this whole payroll warrant thing. When Bill's attorney takes my deposition on December 9, I'm going to ask him what the HELL he was trying to do when he went and had the spousal support payments taken out of my payroll. I will also tell him that I will be asking that my attorney's fees for undoing that screw-up be charged to Bill. I am angry. This all was unnecessary.
At this point in time, I have been 'celibate' for six months. All of a sudden, this has become a physiological challenge. I hope it's just a phase I am going through. I don't have a big sex drive. After all, I'm almost sixty. On the other hand, though, I have been continually sexually active for over thirty five years. I had no problem with this predicament until a few days ago. Now I don't know what to do. In time, I am sure, I will get used to this. Right now it's a little tough.
Yesterday was payday again. My attorney had submitted the necessary paperwork for Bill to be paid his money twice a month instead of on the first of every month. The secretary put a note in my mailbox saying she had my paycheck. When I picked it up, it was small again. I thought, "WHAT???" I looked on the stub. They had taken another payment out for Bill!!! So, whoever got the new order, didn't read the fine print that said the two payments a month should start on December 1. Now I have paid Bill $3750 for the month of November. Will I ever get that extra $1250 back? Not a chance.
I called my attorney and told him what had happened. He told me to call the person in charge of payroll at the district. I called the person, a guy with a really unusual name, Rsk Rsk. I left a message on his phone at 10:00 a.m. He didn't call back. I called again at 2:30, still no answer. I almost feel sorry for him when he finally has to talk to me. I am losing my patience with this whole payroll warrant thing. When Bill's attorney takes my deposition on December 9, I'm going to ask him what the HELL he was trying to do when he went and had the spousal support payments taken out of my payroll. I will also tell him that I will be asking that my attorney's fees for undoing that screw-up be charged to Bill. I am angry. This all was unnecessary.
At this point in time, I have been 'celibate' for six months. All of a sudden, this has become a physiological challenge. I hope it's just a phase I am going through. I don't have a big sex drive. After all, I'm almost sixty. On the other hand, though, I have been continually sexually active for over thirty five years. I had no problem with this predicament until a few days ago. Now I don't know what to do. In time, I am sure, I will get used to this. Right now it's a little tough.
Friday, November 5, 2010
November 5, 2010
Yesterday I had Jessica come over to help me get the medical records together for the cancer diagnosis and the three-week stay Bill had in the hospital last year. I had spoken to a supervisor at the insurance company explaining that since the surgery our marriage had deteriorated beyond the point of just divorce but to restraining orders and a lack of cooperation. After the stunt with my paycheck, I am not feeling too inclined to cooperate either. It took us three hours to go through the 1000 pages from Kaiser. We finally copied three pertinent pages and wrote a cover letter stating the purpose of the three pages and summing up the total for reimbursement. It should come to $12,400. It would be very nice to get it. Bill agreed, through attorneys, that he would split whatever we get. As for requisitioning any other medical records, I don't know. That will be more for the attorneys. I don't remember whether or not we had received the records for his triple bypass. I thought we had. That will be an easier one to do. All we need is the proof of a heart attack and the number of days in the hospital broken down by days in ICU and days in a regular room. Then there's the hospital stay he had about six weeks after that. Those could amount to about another $6000. My half of that would pay for the property taxes---and then some.
Today I received an envelope in my mailbox at work. It looked just like the envelope that comes on the 5th and 20th of every month notifying me that my paycheck has been deposited into my bank account. Inside was a check, a check too big to be an extra-duty check and much too small to be my paycheck. It was, however, my paycheck. A paycheck roughly the fifth of my usual paycheck. The attorney's warrant had somehow nullified my direct deposit, the full amount for a month of spousal support had been deducted, and the remainder sent to me. I called my attorney to find out what the progress was with getting it changed so that the money is deducted twice a month. I had signed the form and faxed it back to him over a week ago but it needed to be signed by both Bill and his attorney. By the end of the day my attorney was threatening to go back to court and ask for legal fees if they didn't sign. Maybe by December, I'll be back on my old payment schedule.
Today I received an envelope in my mailbox at work. It looked just like the envelope that comes on the 5th and 20th of every month notifying me that my paycheck has been deposited into my bank account. Inside was a check, a check too big to be an extra-duty check and much too small to be my paycheck. It was, however, my paycheck. A paycheck roughly the fifth of my usual paycheck. The attorney's warrant had somehow nullified my direct deposit, the full amount for a month of spousal support had been deducted, and the remainder sent to me. I called my attorney to find out what the progress was with getting it changed so that the money is deducted twice a month. I had signed the form and faxed it back to him over a week ago but it needed to be signed by both Bill and his attorney. By the end of the day my attorney was threatening to go back to court and ask for legal fees if they didn't sign. Maybe by December, I'll be back on my old payment schedule.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Dadisms
Dad tries very hard to be 'with it'. In the simplest of ways, he misses the point in a lot of conversations. Tonight he asked Laura where she got the pumpkins she had carved. (She'd really done a great job. One was a howling wolf and the other was an entire haunted house.) She said she had bought the pumpkins and had carved them using stencils. He asked what the seeds were. She said we had gotten the seeds from inside the pumpkins. He asked if they had been in a plastic bag.
A letter arrived from the investment company. About 12 years ago Dad had set up a charitable gift trust with some money he had inherited. That was a great thing about having a father who was gay and had many gay friends. Few of his friends had any children. In fact, many had been estranged from their families. They usually left everything to someone in the circle of gay friends. Over the years he had inherited a few thousand dollars here and a few there. But 12 years ago he hit the Mother Lode: the second of a gay 'couple' died and left their entire estate to Dad. This couple had lived very simply, trieying to survive off their Social Security checks, and salting away the rest of what they had ever had. Dad inherited a quarter of a million. He set up college funds for his grandchildren, an additional IRA for himself, and this charitable gift trust. The purpose of the trust was to use the increase in its value to make donations to charitable or non-profit organizations. By donating only interest earned, the trust would perpetuate itself, thus enabling us to make donations forever. Last month we donated a couple thousand to Dad's alma mater and the remainder of his annual tithe to the church. This letter was the quarterly statement. He wrote on it, "Cindy, what is this? It looks really interesting."
On the annual statement of his life insurance policy he wrote, "What is this?"
On another insurance policy, he wrote: "This looks like a come-on."
For his 90th birthday, I made Dad's favorite dishes: apricot-glazed chicken, rice pilaf, pineapple upside down cake. When we were eating it, he asked if we'd ever had it before.
A letter arrived from the investment company. About 12 years ago Dad had set up a charitable gift trust with some money he had inherited. That was a great thing about having a father who was gay and had many gay friends. Few of his friends had any children. In fact, many had been estranged from their families. They usually left everything to someone in the circle of gay friends. Over the years he had inherited a few thousand dollars here and a few there. But 12 years ago he hit the Mother Lode: the second of a gay 'couple' died and left their entire estate to Dad. This couple had lived very simply, trieying to survive off their Social Security checks, and salting away the rest of what they had ever had. Dad inherited a quarter of a million. He set up college funds for his grandchildren, an additional IRA for himself, and this charitable gift trust. The purpose of the trust was to use the increase in its value to make donations to charitable or non-profit organizations. By donating only interest earned, the trust would perpetuate itself, thus enabling us to make donations forever. Last month we donated a couple thousand to Dad's alma mater and the remainder of his annual tithe to the church. This letter was the quarterly statement. He wrote on it, "Cindy, what is this? It looks really interesting."
On the annual statement of his life insurance policy he wrote, "What is this?"
On another insurance policy, he wrote: "This looks like a come-on."
For his 90th birthday, I made Dad's favorite dishes: apricot-glazed chicken, rice pilaf, pineapple upside down cake. When we were eating it, he asked if we'd ever had it before.
Lawyer Stunt #1
The other day at work,I received a letter in my box. It was from the County Office of Education and it had 'confidential' stamped all over it, I mean ALL over it. I usually don't pay much attention to things from LACOE; they're usually items for the circular file. But the stamps told me this one wasn't for tossing. When I opened it, it said that there was some kind of action going on against one of their employees, and that employee was me. It took me a while to figure it out; it wasn't all that easy to read. Apparently, Bill's attorney took it upon himself to contact the court to have my spousal support payments deducted from my paycheck. Why would he do that after I had already set it up to have Bill paid twice a month on billpay? I had set it up on time, despite Bill's closing his back account and not notifying my attorney until the day the first payment was due. Bill was receiving $1250 checks twice a month, and had been since the end of September. This order I received from LACOE said that $2500 was to be deducted from my pay once a month on the first of every month, starting Novenber 1. So here's the problem with that: 1) Having the entire amount taken from my account at once makes it difficult for me to pay my mortgage, which costs quite a bit and 2) if you give Bill a lump sum at the beginning of the month and tell him to make it last for the entire month, he can't do it. He's horrible with money and needs to have it doled out to him in small quantities or he will blow it within two weeks and will then cry poverty to his attorney. And what will happen then? His attorney will go back to court and ask for more money, claiming his client can't exist on the paltry sum to which we have agreed. I can see it now. I, on the other hand, will argue that Bill has a gambling addiction that no amount of spousal support will ever be able to feed. And 3)if I hadn't been notified by LACOE, this would have gone into effect on November 1, resulting in me having the money deducted twice: once from the billpay I have set up and another time by LACOE deducting it from my check. And once that money would be given to Bill, I'd never see it again. I would double pay the spousal support and he wouldn't give it back.
I called my attorney. He knew nothing of this action. He wrote up an amendment to the action Bill's attorney had made. I signed it. Bill's attorney didn't call him back on it; he rarely does. I hope we can get it done. Now we get to spend more unnecessary money in attorney's fees.
Note to self: Bill's attorney is not trustworthy.
I called my attorney. He knew nothing of this action. He wrote up an amendment to the action Bill's attorney had made. I signed it. Bill's attorney didn't call him back on it; he rarely does. I hope we can get it done. Now we get to spend more unnecessary money in attorney's fees.
Note to self: Bill's attorney is not trustworthy.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
October 28
I only had to take the medication for four days, and then, and I don't know how, but it could have been a result of the power of prayer, my breathing was normal again and I was no longer feeling depressed. It is such a relief to be able to inhale and get a lungful of air. The tension is no longer in my chest. What a relief!
Dad turned 90 on the 23rd. He had a lot of anxiety going up to the day. He was worried he wouldn't make it to 90. I told him I thought he'd make it. He did.
I made him his favorite dishes for dinner: apricot-glazed chicken, rice pilaf, pineapple upsidedown cake. I also threw in some garlic bread and a salad. I used the formal china, crystal, flatware and found some damask linen napkins and tablecloth. There were only four of us but it went well. He asked me if he'd ever eaten that kind of chicken before....Yeah, I got the recipe from you, Dad. That memory---on again, off again.
I hadn't thought of having Beth and Mark down until about the 15th. They couldn't drive because Mark was doing some guy hunting trip which put Beth in a situation of flying instead of driving. But flying within 14 days of your departure date makes for a pricey plane ticket. So, Beth flew down on the 26th and we had a belated birthday celebration for Dad. On Tuesday evening we went up to Kriss's in Beverly Hills for a special birthday dinner. AS usual, Kriss had the china and crystal set out in the formal dining room with Luis serving all the courses. Is it serve from the left and take from the right? Or is it serve from the right, take from the left? Laura and Kyle went up with us. I think they had a good time but Kyle had worked a graveyard shift the night before, and he was unusually quiet. Dad was a little controlling ----- but what else is new? Since the divorce started, he has tried to assert himself as the dominant personality in the house but we either politely ignore him or try to joke him out of it.
Dad turned 90 on the 23rd. He had a lot of anxiety going up to the day. He was worried he wouldn't make it to 90. I told him I thought he'd make it. He did.
I made him his favorite dishes for dinner: apricot-glazed chicken, rice pilaf, pineapple upsidedown cake. I also threw in some garlic bread and a salad. I used the formal china, crystal, flatware and found some damask linen napkins and tablecloth. There were only four of us but it went well. He asked me if he'd ever eaten that kind of chicken before....Yeah, I got the recipe from you, Dad. That memory---on again, off again.
I hadn't thought of having Beth and Mark down until about the 15th. They couldn't drive because Mark was doing some guy hunting trip which put Beth in a situation of flying instead of driving. But flying within 14 days of your departure date makes for a pricey plane ticket. So, Beth flew down on the 26th and we had a belated birthday celebration for Dad. On Tuesday evening we went up to Kriss's in Beverly Hills for a special birthday dinner. AS usual, Kriss had the china and crystal set out in the formal dining room with Luis serving all the courses. Is it serve from the left and take from the right? Or is it serve from the right, take from the left? Laura and Kyle went up with us. I think they had a good time but Kyle had worked a graveyard shift the night before, and he was unusually quiet. Dad was a little controlling ----- but what else is new? Since the divorce started, he has tried to assert himself as the dominant personality in the house but we either politely ignore him or try to joke him out of it.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Saturday
Although I first woke up at 5:18, I was able to go back to sleep for at least two more hours. I had uncomfortable dreams about the novel I've been reading. The anti-anxiety meds I've started taking aren't really wonderful in reducing my physiological reaction to the tension but they help me sleep, thus elliminating my need for medical marijuana at bedtime. And I wonder? If I can't fall asleep on my own, which is better: medical marijuana in chocolate bar or brownie form, or Lorazapam?
I rode my bike down to Manhattan Beach, turned around and rode back. I had parked at Dockweiler, a big beach right under the take-off paths from LAX. It was good to ride far again and to reach a real destination but I long to make the complete ride down to Hermosa Beach where I feel like I've truly entered another world. I was back home before 10:00 a.m. I hadn't eaten breakfast but decided I'd rather clean out Quincy's yard, wipe down his cage and put in some carpeting for comfort when the weather is drizzly or rainy. He is bored back there; I hope to do something to make it more pleasant for him.
The day crawled on......
I scooped a lot of poop. I picked up mushy grapefruits. I swept. I tidied. It was barely noon. The kids kept talking about buying sandwiches for lunch. I went to the sheds to rearrange the things there. When I came back the kids were gone. Where's my lunch? It was 2:00 when they came back. I was reading. We ate and I asked them to help me clean the third shed. They headed off to the Westside Animal Shelter to check on the dog they had rescued out in San Bernardino. Why do they go there to visit? It's just torture. Everytime I go there, I come home crying for the sweet animals I'm unable to adopt.
Bill wrote. He wants things. Laura doesn't want to be in the middle when Bill wants stuff. We want to circumvent unnecessary legal costs but we don't want to do something that could end up with me having to pay more in the end. For instance, one day last month Bill contacted the insurance department at my district. He told them he needs a 'life saving' procedure but couldn't have it done until he was released from the coverage I have him on at Kaiser. I agreed, but in doing so, I had him taken off my dental coverage as well. This was another instance where Bill made a demand and made people feel it had to be taken care of instantly. What I didn't realize was that by taking him off Kaiser and dental, I made myself vulnerable to him claiming that he only wanted off the Kaiser, and that he wanted to stay on the dental. Now I have to get the person in the health office to write a letter saying that Bill asked to be released from all my coverage.
Today he sent Laura an email asking for a number of items. HE wasnts his desk, dressers, a flat screen and wall mount, a blender, a Bamix and a table. That's fine with me but he still hasn't taken some items we set out for him a long time ago. HE needs to take the benches from the van and other things. We're spending a lot of time packing things for him. Even after I thought I had gotten everything of his out of the house, I kept finding more and more things. It is tiring and neverending.
My down-sized mood and anxiety continue to color my perspective on everything. I feel low and time drags on slowly.
I rode my bike down to Manhattan Beach, turned around and rode back. I had parked at Dockweiler, a big beach right under the take-off paths from LAX. It was good to ride far again and to reach a real destination but I long to make the complete ride down to Hermosa Beach where I feel like I've truly entered another world. I was back home before 10:00 a.m. I hadn't eaten breakfast but decided I'd rather clean out Quincy's yard, wipe down his cage and put in some carpeting for comfort when the weather is drizzly or rainy. He is bored back there; I hope to do something to make it more pleasant for him.
The day crawled on......
I scooped a lot of poop. I picked up mushy grapefruits. I swept. I tidied. It was barely noon. The kids kept talking about buying sandwiches for lunch. I went to the sheds to rearrange the things there. When I came back the kids were gone. Where's my lunch? It was 2:00 when they came back. I was reading. We ate and I asked them to help me clean the third shed. They headed off to the Westside Animal Shelter to check on the dog they had rescued out in San Bernardino. Why do they go there to visit? It's just torture. Everytime I go there, I come home crying for the sweet animals I'm unable to adopt.
Bill wrote. He wants things. Laura doesn't want to be in the middle when Bill wants stuff. We want to circumvent unnecessary legal costs but we don't want to do something that could end up with me having to pay more in the end. For instance, one day last month Bill contacted the insurance department at my district. He told them he needs a 'life saving' procedure but couldn't have it done until he was released from the coverage I have him on at Kaiser. I agreed, but in doing so, I had him taken off my dental coverage as well. This was another instance where Bill made a demand and made people feel it had to be taken care of instantly. What I didn't realize was that by taking him off Kaiser and dental, I made myself vulnerable to him claiming that he only wanted off the Kaiser, and that he wanted to stay on the dental. Now I have to get the person in the health office to write a letter saying that Bill asked to be released from all my coverage.
Today he sent Laura an email asking for a number of items. HE wasnts his desk, dressers, a flat screen and wall mount, a blender, a Bamix and a table. That's fine with me but he still hasn't taken some items we set out for him a long time ago. HE needs to take the benches from the van and other things. We're spending a lot of time packing things for him. Even after I thought I had gotten everything of his out of the house, I kept finding more and more things. It is tiring and neverending.
My down-sized mood and anxiety continue to color my perspective on everything. I feel low and time drags on slowly.
Friday, October 15, 2010
October 15
I spend the last four months being surrounded by loving and supportive friends and family. I have made several trips out of town and my home is a happy, more relaxed place now. I have even had house guests several times. Laura and Kyle have moved in with me and we have lots of laughs. Laura got a job coaching cheer at the high school and assists at her favorite beauty salon three days a week. She is happy. In fact, she is thriving. She had an emergency appendectomy on Labor Day weekend but has fully recovered. I spent the night sleeping in a chair in her room. She did so well through it all. She kept her sense of humor and was kind and gracious to everyone she met. I was so proud of her. She continues to become more and more of a remarkable young woman. I am excited to see what she becomes as she continues to mature.
The school year started with a bang because that was the day after Laura came home from the hospital. Four wonderful people came in and helped me set up my classroom. It wouldn't have happened without them. My children are a good group, but not without their own little problems. But this year I have been using a community-building program in the room and it seems to be making a difference. We seem to be coming together as a unit, and there is a greater spirit of helping and cooperation. I am hopeful that this year will be one of the best ones I have had in a long time.
Dad will turn 90 next week. He is healthy but cognitively he doesn't catch on like he used to. And he doesn't seem to filter out many comments, comments that do nothing other than hurt. I have become almost gun-shy of him. I cringe when he wants to talk to me and some of the dinner criticisms are not so well disguised anymore. He obsesses about his weight and how often he poops. It seems to be a form of anorexia. He can't see that he weighs far less than he ever has and that he needs to gain about fifteen pounds. If the caregivers give him the mail before I can get to it, he writes weird comments on the envelopes for me. For instance, on his life insurance policy he wrote, "I don't know what this is. Is it some sort of come-on?" We will celebrate his birthday slightly on his real birthday but the following Tuesday my sister will fly down as a surprise and we will go up to our oldest friend's house at the top of Beverly Hills for a lovely and formal dinner that evening. I am hoping it will be very special. I will bake him a pineapple upsidedown cake for his real birthday at home; I just don't know if I should invite some people over. I have been invited to two parties that day but don't plan on going. It's a busy one.
Bill is happily living in the desert smoking cigars and playing lots of poker. He took two of the dogs and has gone back into some Search and Rescue work. I hear he is finally coming down from this mania. He has been manic since April. I thought he'd come down by late August, early September, but he didn't until now. He has treated this divorce as a business deal, and he intent has been to try to get as much money as he can from me. I never wanted to be on this end of a business dealing with him. I am no match for his wiles.
As happens in all divorces, I'm sure, my time of euphoria has come to an end. I checked my finances a couple of weeks ago and realized that I won't be able to make ends meet. A few days later I started having a stress/anxiety problem that I haven't had in over 26 years. I feel like I can't get a deep breath. I try to inhale but it feels like my lungs don't fill up. After an hour of this I start to feel panicky. I went to the doctor. Dang. I had to get anti-anxiety medication. The doctor offered me Prozac as well but I told her, no, I'm really a pretty 'up' person. Then a text message from a friend brought me crashing down. I feel alone, lonely, despondent, down. It was time, I guess. This is just another phase I'll go through. Certainly I won't stay down in the dumps forever. But I'm thinking I should have taken that Prozac.
The school year started with a bang because that was the day after Laura came home from the hospital. Four wonderful people came in and helped me set up my classroom. It wouldn't have happened without them. My children are a good group, but not without their own little problems. But this year I have been using a community-building program in the room and it seems to be making a difference. We seem to be coming together as a unit, and there is a greater spirit of helping and cooperation. I am hopeful that this year will be one of the best ones I have had in a long time.
Dad will turn 90 next week. He is healthy but cognitively he doesn't catch on like he used to. And he doesn't seem to filter out many comments, comments that do nothing other than hurt. I have become almost gun-shy of him. I cringe when he wants to talk to me and some of the dinner criticisms are not so well disguised anymore. He obsesses about his weight and how often he poops. It seems to be a form of anorexia. He can't see that he weighs far less than he ever has and that he needs to gain about fifteen pounds. If the caregivers give him the mail before I can get to it, he writes weird comments on the envelopes for me. For instance, on his life insurance policy he wrote, "I don't know what this is. Is it some sort of come-on?" We will celebrate his birthday slightly on his real birthday but the following Tuesday my sister will fly down as a surprise and we will go up to our oldest friend's house at the top of Beverly Hills for a lovely and formal dinner that evening. I am hoping it will be very special. I will bake him a pineapple upsidedown cake for his real birthday at home; I just don't know if I should invite some people over. I have been invited to two parties that day but don't plan on going. It's a busy one.
Bill is happily living in the desert smoking cigars and playing lots of poker. He took two of the dogs and has gone back into some Search and Rescue work. I hear he is finally coming down from this mania. He has been manic since April. I thought he'd come down by late August, early September, but he didn't until now. He has treated this divorce as a business deal, and he intent has been to try to get as much money as he can from me. I never wanted to be on this end of a business dealing with him. I am no match for his wiles.
As happens in all divorces, I'm sure, my time of euphoria has come to an end. I checked my finances a couple of weeks ago and realized that I won't be able to make ends meet. A few days later I started having a stress/anxiety problem that I haven't had in over 26 years. I feel like I can't get a deep breath. I try to inhale but it feels like my lungs don't fill up. After an hour of this I start to feel panicky. I went to the doctor. Dang. I had to get anti-anxiety medication. The doctor offered me Prozac as well but I told her, no, I'm really a pretty 'up' person. Then a text message from a friend brought me crashing down. I feel alone, lonely, despondent, down. It was time, I guess. This is just another phase I'll go through. Certainly I won't stay down in the dumps forever. But I'm thinking I should have taken that Prozac.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Another Day in Court
Bill had made three motions during the course of our domestic violence (DV) hearings. They were inappropriate for DV hearings so a date of August 17 was set for them. Laura went with me to the courthouse. This was the first time Bill showed up with legal counsel. He hired an older man on a limited scope basis. Limited scope is when an attorney makes an isolated appearance for a client without necessarily being committed to going through the entire divorce. I'm not sure why he wanted someone on limited scope. Did he want to be in complete control of his case? He told Laura he had fired other attorneys because one had wanted to put a $35,000 lien on the house and another because she wouldn't what he told her to. The third was fired for reasons unknown. The attorney who came to court had been practicing for as long as my attorney, had offices out in Norwalk, and walks with the assistance of a cane. He seemed nice enough. But how did Bill find someone out in Norwalk? He charges $300/hour. Was that an important factor? He was soft-spoken; that doesn't seem like a good match for Bill.
But the man was a bit clever. The proceedings went quite smoothly, efficiently. Bill was asking for: spousal support---we had already settled that, at least on a temporary basis. He also asked for $20,000 for his legal fees, claiming that since I had spent that thus far, he should be entitled to an equal amount. And thirdly, he wanted the court to order a forensic accountant to go over our finances to expedite a settlement. Prior to the hearing he agreed to $2500 a month in support and to table the request for the forensic accountant (it's premature). I had claimed that I couldn't make any more support payments until I went back to work. After all, the reason I didn't have a summer job was because I had turned down my usual job in order to spend what I thought was going to be his last summer with Bill. That left the amount for legal fees. My attorney argued that the reason why I had accrued so much in fees so far was because of the motions Bill had made against me that had caused me to spend so much time in court and that we would be asking for some of my fees to be taken out of Bill's portion of a final settlement. In the judge's decision, he agreed that I shouldn't pay support until I went back to work at the end of September. He also ordered me to pay $5000 in legal fees in $500 increments for 10 months starting October 1. Bill's attorney set it up -----or at least I think he did,----so that I would make the payments directly to him. This way, we avoid the inevitability of Bill firing him and pocketing the money for legal fees. I think the judge was kind to me. In rendering his decision, it was clear to me that he was saying 1)Bill needs access to legal counsel and 2) we ALL benefit when he has it. And it he was right; the hearing had be devoid of non-sequitors and inappropriate motions. His decision is something I can handle; I'll have to pick up extra work, like tutoring students or teaching a night class, but I'll be able to do it. And after 10 months, I won't have to pay the extra $500 a month. I don't think the judge likes Bill.
But the man was a bit clever. The proceedings went quite smoothly, efficiently. Bill was asking for: spousal support---we had already settled that, at least on a temporary basis. He also asked for $20,000 for his legal fees, claiming that since I had spent that thus far, he should be entitled to an equal amount. And thirdly, he wanted the court to order a forensic accountant to go over our finances to expedite a settlement. Prior to the hearing he agreed to $2500 a month in support and to table the request for the forensic accountant (it's premature). I had claimed that I couldn't make any more support payments until I went back to work. After all, the reason I didn't have a summer job was because I had turned down my usual job in order to spend what I thought was going to be his last summer with Bill. That left the amount for legal fees. My attorney argued that the reason why I had accrued so much in fees so far was because of the motions Bill had made against me that had caused me to spend so much time in court and that we would be asking for some of my fees to be taken out of Bill's portion of a final settlement. In the judge's decision, he agreed that I shouldn't pay support until I went back to work at the end of September. He also ordered me to pay $5000 in legal fees in $500 increments for 10 months starting October 1. Bill's attorney set it up -----or at least I think he did,----so that I would make the payments directly to him. This way, we avoid the inevitability of Bill firing him and pocketing the money for legal fees. I think the judge was kind to me. In rendering his decision, it was clear to me that he was saying 1)Bill needs access to legal counsel and 2) we ALL benefit when he has it. And it he was right; the hearing had be devoid of non-sequitors and inappropriate motions. His decision is something I can handle; I'll have to pick up extra work, like tutoring students or teaching a night class, but I'll be able to do it. And after 10 months, I won't have to pay the extra $500 a month. I don't think the judge likes Bill.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Taking Stock
Monday was the day Mike took us all up to the lake on his boat. As always, I treated everyone to lunch at the great and funky little country deli on the way. We got sandwiches, chips and drinks for our picnic on the boat. It was chilly; they've been having a cool summer so far and this day was no exception. It was a while before we got the nerve to blow up the innertube and let Mike start flinging us all over the lake.
On Tuesday I had lunch with Tim and Pancho. I had spent much of my senior year in high school hanging out with them. We ate at a little Basque restaurant on the north end of San Rafael. I don't remember ever having eaten there but apparently it has been there on North San Pedro Road for decades. Our lunch lasted four hours. We not only reminisced but talked about politics, teaching, traveling, etc. I don't even remember. Suddenly it was 4:15 and we all needed to leave. One thing that came up, though, was how all the preparations for the Reunion and the getting in touch on Facebook had had an unintended consequence: it had been a form of 'taking stock'. Anticipating the Reunion, getting reacquainted, learning about how we had all worked through the past forty years, had caused us all to evaluate where we were, where we'd been, where we are now, how we were being treated, and how that measures up to where we thought we should be. For me, I had had people say very sweet and positive things about their memories of me. Many former classmates had reached out to me in friendship, both as new friends and to renew old friendships. As a result, I had no longer been able to stuff down the feelings of Bill I had carried for so many years in this marriage, hurts from treacheries that had been stacking up over the years, feelings of being taken advantage of, of being used, of being someone's meal ticket, feelings of being in a relationship where I was playing on a team of one and that my spouse was the opposing team. Taking stock had forced me to admit that I was in a marriage where I was not being treated as I should.
I spent Wednesday with family, my crazy, wonderful, loving family. We swam, we ate, we had fun. Kyle was welcomed with loving arms and drew accolades from everyone. He is now accepted as one of us. He, Laura and I grew closer together and more and more comfortable in one anothers' company.
Thursday I met Marj for lunch. She wasn't a friend in high school. She was one of those extremely athletic girls of whom I was almost afraid. Her skills were daunting to me. How could anyone be able to dominate the number of sports as she had? For her, walking into the gym must have felt like she was entering her domain, a place where she experienced constant and complete success. For me, walking into the gym frequently meant walking into a place where I would experience frustration, exhaustion and defeat. My ego would be crushed, I would attempt things like flips on the trampoline and never succeed, spend days trying to throw my hips and legs over the uneven parallel bars and never be able to do it without Miss Arevelo hoisting me up. The gym was a place I often dreaded but knew I had to go every single day of school. When I was on the swim team, Marj was a ringer. She swam AAU for Mr. Lack at 6:30 in the mornings and didn't need to come to the practices after school. She jumped in at the swim meets and blew away the competition with her butterfly and breast stroke. She was a swimming machine, and did equally well in other sports. Her abilities mystified and awed me. We were cut from different cloth then. But not now. Not at our age. She and I are now 59. We're busy working, making ends meet, solving grown-up problems, and watching our bodies move into declining health. She is now a centered, level-headed, funny and compassionate woman. I don't know; she may always have been that way. Our time together is really good, and we are now friends. More on reconnections in other posts.......
On Tuesday I had lunch with Tim and Pancho. I had spent much of my senior year in high school hanging out with them. We ate at a little Basque restaurant on the north end of San Rafael. I don't remember ever having eaten there but apparently it has been there on North San Pedro Road for decades. Our lunch lasted four hours. We not only reminisced but talked about politics, teaching, traveling, etc. I don't even remember. Suddenly it was 4:15 and we all needed to leave. One thing that came up, though, was how all the preparations for the Reunion and the getting in touch on Facebook had had an unintended consequence: it had been a form of 'taking stock'. Anticipating the Reunion, getting reacquainted, learning about how we had all worked through the past forty years, had caused us all to evaluate where we were, where we'd been, where we are now, how we were being treated, and how that measures up to where we thought we should be. For me, I had had people say very sweet and positive things about their memories of me. Many former classmates had reached out to me in friendship, both as new friends and to renew old friendships. As a result, I had no longer been able to stuff down the feelings of Bill I had carried for so many years in this marriage, hurts from treacheries that had been stacking up over the years, feelings of being taken advantage of, of being used, of being someone's meal ticket, feelings of being in a relationship where I was playing on a team of one and that my spouse was the opposing team. Taking stock had forced me to admit that I was in a marriage where I was not being treated as I should.
I spent Wednesday with family, my crazy, wonderful, loving family. We swam, we ate, we had fun. Kyle was welcomed with loving arms and drew accolades from everyone. He is now accepted as one of us. He, Laura and I grew closer together and more and more comfortable in one anothers' company.
Thursday I met Marj for lunch. She wasn't a friend in high school. She was one of those extremely athletic girls of whom I was almost afraid. Her skills were daunting to me. How could anyone be able to dominate the number of sports as she had? For her, walking into the gym must have felt like she was entering her domain, a place where she experienced constant and complete success. For me, walking into the gym frequently meant walking into a place where I would experience frustration, exhaustion and defeat. My ego would be crushed, I would attempt things like flips on the trampoline and never succeed, spend days trying to throw my hips and legs over the uneven parallel bars and never be able to do it without Miss Arevelo hoisting me up. The gym was a place I often dreaded but knew I had to go every single day of school. When I was on the swim team, Marj was a ringer. She swam AAU for Mr. Lack at 6:30 in the mornings and didn't need to come to the practices after school. She jumped in at the swim meets and blew away the competition with her butterfly and breast stroke. She was a swimming machine, and did equally well in other sports. Her abilities mystified and awed me. We were cut from different cloth then. But not now. Not at our age. She and I are now 59. We're busy working, making ends meet, solving grown-up problems, and watching our bodies move into declining health. She is now a centered, level-headed, funny and compassionate woman. I don't know; she may always have been that way. Our time together is really good, and we are now friends. More on reconnections in other posts.......
Getting Outta Dodge
With Kyle being on stress-leave from work, thanks to an insecure and difficult boss, and Laura being finished with school, there were no real compelling reasons to hang around town anymore. We had had our court date, I had embarked on the daunting task of packing and chronicling all his possessions, it was summer and I had no job. Why not? Laura really wanted Kyle to meet the fam, and this is definitely the time of year to go north. They were able to get one of their dogs to Kyle's brothers but we needed to take the three other ones with us. I wanted to stay longer. I wanted to take two cars so they could go back home when Kyle had his next doctor's appointment. They didn't like that idea AT ALL. We talked, appointments were changed, dates blocked out, and we headed for Sonoma County. Three drivers make the trip easier, and I was the only designated backseat driver. It was a comfy drive. We let Maya, the Staffornshire terrier, out of her cage for snuggling with whoever was in the backseat. We arrived on Friday evening in time to spend a good amount of time with Mark before he left for Idaho. Beth had planned on going with him but got rehired by the Census Bureau for a third round of Count the Americans, so she had to bow out of the trip at the last minute.
I slept with Beth in the loft above Mark's office while Laura and Kyle slept in the loft in the cottage. Haley had taken to sleeping on the cottage couch, and they got along famously. We introduced Kyle to Haley as a 'different Kyle', not the one who is her cousin. For the entire time, she called him Different Kyle. He was very comfortable with her. She is so like his uncle Manny that he's not the least be phased by her. He could tune into the questions and perseverations she had and understood her need to freeze frames and look at minutiae in her videos. Having Laura and Kyle sleep together was a bit of awkward moment for me. I had told them they couldn't sleep together in Idaho but hadn't thought about it for Petaluma. Mark didn't object, but if I had remembered it for even a moment before, I would have told them they would have to sleep in separate places out of respect for Beth and Mark. I think I dodged a bullet.
I slept with Beth in the loft above Mark's office while Laura and Kyle slept in the loft in the cottage. Haley had taken to sleeping on the cottage couch, and they got along famously. We introduced Kyle to Haley as a 'different Kyle', not the one who is her cousin. For the entire time, she called him Different Kyle. He was very comfortable with her. She is so like his uncle Manny that he's not the least be phased by her. He could tune into the questions and perseverations she had and understood her need to freeze frames and look at minutiae in her videos. Having Laura and Kyle sleep together was a bit of awkward moment for me. I had told them they couldn't sleep together in Idaho but hadn't thought about it for Petaluma. Mark didn't object, but if I had remembered it for even a moment before, I would have told them they would have to sleep in separate places out of respect for Beth and Mark. I think I dodged a bullet.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Boards
Laura's board date was set for August 5. I was her model and of course I was supposed to be in a workshop at my school that day. But hey! What's my priority here? My kid, of course. The testing was being done in Glendale and we knew we wanted to stay in a hotel nearby so we wouldn't have to deal with morning traffic. The beauty school had provided us with names, and we chose the least expensive. We got a room for $89. I put it on a credit card. Dealing with the debt is something I'll just have to do. And anyway, my newest saying is, "It's only money".
Laura had to be at the building for the state Board of Cosmetology and Barbering at 7:15 a.m. She was up early and scouted it all out. She had to rent a kit from a 'kit store'. Now there's a nice little business! These 'kits' are packed in very large rolling pieces of soft luggage. Inside there are about 10 containers plus scissors, a curling iron, shaving cream, towels, soaps, combs, liquids and towels, towels and more towels. There's even a mesh laundry bag for the towels after they're used. Everything the testing candidate needs is in that kit.
It was your basic non-descript government building in the style I refer to as California Stark. On the fourth floor were five very large rooms. Each room had eight stations. Each station had a client's chair, counter, mirror, hairdryer, manicure table, and a stool. As a model, I was instructed to be silent, not to help or speak to the testee, and not to read the notebook of procedures they had to follow. It was so quiet in there, it was hard to tell anyone else was in the room----or the building for that matter. The examiner stood at a large rolling podium. The barbering candidates were in the room directly across from us, and I could see them from my seat. Sometimes I would look up and they'd be giving their models a shave or a hair relaxer, and other times I'd turn and the entire room would be empty. When did they leave? Where did they go? I hadn't heard a voice or rustling or the sound of feet coming or going. This silent thing was almost eerie.
At 7:45 the examiner unlocked a closet in the testing room, took out eight numbered notebooks, and distributed them to the eight stations. We were at Station #8, so Laura was given notebook #8. Then the test began. To mimic chemicals, shaving cream is applied to the hair. I was grateful for that since Laura's first procedure was to relax my hair and give it a 'virgin bleach'. Several procedures-----or 'services'----later, it was 10:20 and the examiner announced it was break time. By then I had shaving cream all over my head, one foot pedicured with bright red polish and an acrylic nail on my left pointer finger, also done in the bright red. I hadn't known we were going to have a break, but Laura and I got to go to take my shaving-creamed self to a nearby shop for coffee. At 10:40 the testing resumed and this time, instead of doing procedures for another 2 1/2 hours, Laura only had to do them for an hour. It was during this time that I got my haircut. I was able to guess what her instructions had been: do a scissor guideline with a razor cut. Since Laura had done a practice cut on me in the hotel the night before, my hair was quite a bit shorter by lunch time.
When the procedures were over there was no break, even though it was what most people would consider lunchtime. Laura finished before anyone else in the room. I know that can be a sign of someone doing really well or really poorly; it never means they were in the middle.
I went back to the hotel to shower, get the shaving cream out of my hair and lose my acrylic nail. I asked the person at the desk if I could have a later check-out but he said they were all booked and I would need to get out by 1:00. No swim for me. I showered, packed up all our things, and loaded them into the car.
Fortunately, the hotel backed up to a beautiful outdoor mall. I went over there and windowshopped, not a favorite pasttime, but it was a way of passing the afternoon until I heard from Laura that it was time to pick her up. She called in about a half hour. She was at the hotel and needed to wait until 2:45 to go back to the Board offices to get her results. The girl testing at Station #7 had also stayed at our hotel and had given Laura a ride back.
At 2:45 we went back and I waited in the car while she went up to the fourth floor to find out how she had done. About twenty minutes later she came down running, leaping and waving a paper. She not only had passed but they had given her her license right then and there, with her photo on it and all. What an exciting moment! What a great day! My daughter was now a licensed cosmetologist.
Laura had to be at the building for the state Board of Cosmetology and Barbering at 7:15 a.m. She was up early and scouted it all out. She had to rent a kit from a 'kit store'. Now there's a nice little business! These 'kits' are packed in very large rolling pieces of soft luggage. Inside there are about 10 containers plus scissors, a curling iron, shaving cream, towels, soaps, combs, liquids and towels, towels and more towels. There's even a mesh laundry bag for the towels after they're used. Everything the testing candidate needs is in that kit.
It was your basic non-descript government building in the style I refer to as California Stark. On the fourth floor were five very large rooms. Each room had eight stations. Each station had a client's chair, counter, mirror, hairdryer, manicure table, and a stool. As a model, I was instructed to be silent, not to help or speak to the testee, and not to read the notebook of procedures they had to follow. It was so quiet in there, it was hard to tell anyone else was in the room----or the building for that matter. The examiner stood at a large rolling podium. The barbering candidates were in the room directly across from us, and I could see them from my seat. Sometimes I would look up and they'd be giving their models a shave or a hair relaxer, and other times I'd turn and the entire room would be empty. When did they leave? Where did they go? I hadn't heard a voice or rustling or the sound of feet coming or going. This silent thing was almost eerie.
At 7:45 the examiner unlocked a closet in the testing room, took out eight numbered notebooks, and distributed them to the eight stations. We were at Station #8, so Laura was given notebook #8. Then the test began. To mimic chemicals, shaving cream is applied to the hair. I was grateful for that since Laura's first procedure was to relax my hair and give it a 'virgin bleach'. Several procedures-----or 'services'----later, it was 10:20 and the examiner announced it was break time. By then I had shaving cream all over my head, one foot pedicured with bright red polish and an acrylic nail on my left pointer finger, also done in the bright red. I hadn't known we were going to have a break, but Laura and I got to go to take my shaving-creamed self to a nearby shop for coffee. At 10:40 the testing resumed and this time, instead of doing procedures for another 2 1/2 hours, Laura only had to do them for an hour. It was during this time that I got my haircut. I was able to guess what her instructions had been: do a scissor guideline with a razor cut. Since Laura had done a practice cut on me in the hotel the night before, my hair was quite a bit shorter by lunch time.
When the procedures were over there was no break, even though it was what most people would consider lunchtime. Laura finished before anyone else in the room. I know that can be a sign of someone doing really well or really poorly; it never means they were in the middle.
I went back to the hotel to shower, get the shaving cream out of my hair and lose my acrylic nail. I asked the person at the desk if I could have a later check-out but he said they were all booked and I would need to get out by 1:00. No swim for me. I showered, packed up all our things, and loaded them into the car.
Fortunately, the hotel backed up to a beautiful outdoor mall. I went over there and windowshopped, not a favorite pasttime, but it was a way of passing the afternoon until I heard from Laura that it was time to pick her up. She called in about a half hour. She was at the hotel and needed to wait until 2:45 to go back to the Board offices to get her results. The girl testing at Station #7 had also stayed at our hotel and had given Laura a ride back.
At 2:45 we went back and I waited in the car while she went up to the fourth floor to find out how she had done. About twenty minutes later she came down running, leaping and waving a paper. She not only had passed but they had given her her license right then and there, with her photo on it and all. What an exciting moment! What a great day! My daughter was now a licensed cosmetologist.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Lashes
On Monday morning we had breakfast at the little restaurant in the hotel. We got Laura to her class on time; it was down by the airport and the embarcadero, one of my favorite areas. Bill and I had done a lot of bike riding around there last summer during our two trips to San Diego. After Kyle and I dropped her off, we went to buy some classroom supplies at Michael's and a few replacement items at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I also had to go to two banks and I needed a new toilet seat for the master bath. Enough with the cushioned seats; they tear within a year and sitting on them is quite uncomfortable when that happens. I went with the cheap, $5 model. If it didn't have pretty butterflies epoxyed on it, I'd just go with the plain white one.
We went back to the hotel. I took a shower. Kyle walked the doggies, and we watched some TV. Then we went down to the wharf. We parked the car, walked around the fishermen's village, ate a little lunch, and did a teeny bit of window shopping. Then it was time for me to be Laura's model.
There were only two people in the class. The instructor had set up massage tables with sheets and blankets on them. I got to lie down and get all snuggly and warm. They taped my eyes closed. What else could I do? I fell asleep and started to snore. Quietly, of course-----or should I say, quietly, thank goodness.
The instructor said there are three general looks for eyelash extensions: everyday, fancy and glam. Or, to make it more meaningful to clients, they say: Jennifer Aniston, J Lo and Kim Kardashian. I wanted Jennifer Aniston. They started at the outside of the eyes and work inward alternating eyes as they adhere the extensions to existing lashes. After 90 minutes, I had about 15 lashes on each eye. I had to remember to keep my face relatively dry for the next 24 hours and to try to sleep without mussing them. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep on my back all night but I could at least keep the lashes dry. When I looked in the mirror I thought I'd gotten more of J Lo than Jennifer Aniston. But Laura was ready to go, and this might be something she can really do well at.
We left San Diego from the class. We were home by 8:15. It was a day that had been put to good use. She'll be able to use this for years to come. That is, until they find some new fangled way to make eyelashes longer and more lush.
We went back to the hotel. I took a shower. Kyle walked the doggies, and we watched some TV. Then we went down to the wharf. We parked the car, walked around the fishermen's village, ate a little lunch, and did a teeny bit of window shopping. Then it was time for me to be Laura's model.
There were only two people in the class. The instructor had set up massage tables with sheets and blankets on them. I got to lie down and get all snuggly and warm. They taped my eyes closed. What else could I do? I fell asleep and started to snore. Quietly, of course-----or should I say, quietly, thank goodness.
The instructor said there are three general looks for eyelash extensions: everyday, fancy and glam. Or, to make it more meaningful to clients, they say: Jennifer Aniston, J Lo and Kim Kardashian. I wanted Jennifer Aniston. They started at the outside of the eyes and work inward alternating eyes as they adhere the extensions to existing lashes. After 90 minutes, I had about 15 lashes on each eye. I had to remember to keep my face relatively dry for the next 24 hours and to try to sleep without mussing them. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep on my back all night but I could at least keep the lashes dry. When I looked in the mirror I thought I'd gotten more of J Lo than Jennifer Aniston. But Laura was ready to go, and this might be something she can really do well at.
We left San Diego from the class. We were home by 8:15. It was a day that had been put to good use. She'll be able to use this for years to come. That is, until they find some new fangled way to make eyelashes longer and more lush.
Apres Pedicure
When we were getting our pedicures, we noticed something: a woman was doing something called 'eyelash extensions' and she was booked solid. Her client was in some sort of reclining chair so the stylist could sit in a regular chair and work right over the woman's face; it reminded me of the way the dentist reclines patients and works right over their mouths. Laura had heard of these before. They are very popular and people pay $250 to have them put on. After the nail salon, we ran into Caro by the beauty supply store. She and Dan were moving that day, and Dan told her to stay away until the movers were finished loading everything. She said she had put on eyelash extensions for her wedding. They last about 6 - 8 weeks.
Laura still hadn't received a date for her state boards and the school was calling Sacramento every day to find out when she was scheduled. That meant she was probably going to have a long period of waiting time before her appointment with them. We made some calls and enrolled her in a class to learn how to do these eyelash extensions. We were set for Monday in San Diego. We would need to go down on Sunday evening and stay in a hotel because driving there from LA on a Monday morning was out of the question. We would need a place that accepted dogs, and I would need to come to the class at 2:15 to be her model.
We spent Saturday and Sunday doing a lot of work on packing Bill's personal possessions. I laid objects out on my bed that I had covered with a light-colored sheet or on a dining table I had covered with a white sheet. Each time I spread out items so they could be easily identified. I wrote the box number on an index card and put the card in the photo as well. After I took the photos, I wrote the inventory on the back of the index card, and then I would go to the computer and type the information into a word doc. Finally I would pack the items into their box, write the box number on it, and stack it out by the laundry room. The boxes were mounting, and I was still on our bed and bath. Did the judge realize that my driveway alone was evocative of Sanford and Son? Did he have any idea how much work he had created for me? (I later asked my brother's wife how long it would take her to pack up my brother's personal possessions if a judge ordered. She said a couple of hours.) I also had to inventory the items we had set aside for a yard sale we had originally planned for June 5. I had hoped Bill would give me the go-ahead to have the sale and I would give him half the proceeds.
By Sunday we were all in the car with the three dogs. As we walked out the door at 7pm, I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. I suddenly wanted to crawl into bed, close my eyes and go to sleep. But our ride had just begun. Laura did the driving, and when we got to the Travelodge, I got under the covers and don't remember anything that happened until the next morning.
Laura still hadn't received a date for her state boards and the school was calling Sacramento every day to find out when she was scheduled. That meant she was probably going to have a long period of waiting time before her appointment with them. We made some calls and enrolled her in a class to learn how to do these eyelash extensions. We were set for Monday in San Diego. We would need to go down on Sunday evening and stay in a hotel because driving there from LA on a Monday morning was out of the question. We would need a place that accepted dogs, and I would need to come to the class at 2:15 to be her model.
We spent Saturday and Sunday doing a lot of work on packing Bill's personal possessions. I laid objects out on my bed that I had covered with a light-colored sheet or on a dining table I had covered with a white sheet. Each time I spread out items so they could be easily identified. I wrote the box number on an index card and put the card in the photo as well. After I took the photos, I wrote the inventory on the back of the index card, and then I would go to the computer and type the information into a word doc. Finally I would pack the items into their box, write the box number on it, and stack it out by the laundry room. The boxes were mounting, and I was still on our bed and bath. Did the judge realize that my driveway alone was evocative of Sanford and Son? Did he have any idea how much work he had created for me? (I later asked my brother's wife how long it would take her to pack up my brother's personal possessions if a judge ordered. She said a couple of hours.) I also had to inventory the items we had set aside for a yard sale we had originally planned for June 5. I had hoped Bill would give me the go-ahead to have the sale and I would give him half the proceeds.
By Sunday we were all in the car with the three dogs. As we walked out the door at 7pm, I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. I suddenly wanted to crawl into bed, close my eyes and go to sleep. But our ride had just begun. Laura did the driving, and when we got to the Travelodge, I got under the covers and don't remember anything that happened until the next morning.
The Day After
Friday came not a moment too soon. It felt like it was Saturday; my week had definitely been long enough and, as far as I was concerned, it was over. All day long I thought it was Saturday.
I didn't wake too early, but when I did, I felt relaxed and I went about my morning very leisurely. I puttered. I went to the front yard and pulled weeds. As I was out there Laura came out the front door and said, "Look at my toes." They were a pedicurist's dream. All ready to be trimmed, scrubbed and lacquered up again. It was the perfect outing. I said, "I was thinking we should get pedicures today. Let's go!"
At the salon we sat back and fiddled with the settings on the big whirlpool spa chairs. We set them up for kneading up and down our backs, but Laura's chair had a funky remote control and you had to slap it against the armrest to get it to turn on. We declined repeated offers to have the 'deluxe pedicure' because I had had it last month and didn't think it was worth it to have them wrap my feet in plastic for five minutes. But when I was finished and the gal took me to the drying area, she put her hands on my shoulders and asked me if I wanted a massage. The pressure of her fingers told me she could do a bang-up job. I said yes and she did. It was gooooooddddd.
I wanted to do something for Kyle but pedicures didn't seem to be his thing. I suggested to Laura that we take him out to dinner as a 'thank you' for all he had done. She thought it was a great idea and knew of exactly the place to go. We went there and had a fabulous meal. It felt good to be with the two of them. I feel safe with them and they are protective of me.
I didn't wake too early, but when I did, I felt relaxed and I went about my morning very leisurely. I puttered. I went to the front yard and pulled weeds. As I was out there Laura came out the front door and said, "Look at my toes." They were a pedicurist's dream. All ready to be trimmed, scrubbed and lacquered up again. It was the perfect outing. I said, "I was thinking we should get pedicures today. Let's go!"
At the salon we sat back and fiddled with the settings on the big whirlpool spa chairs. We set them up for kneading up and down our backs, but Laura's chair had a funky remote control and you had to slap it against the armrest to get it to turn on. We declined repeated offers to have the 'deluxe pedicure' because I had had it last month and didn't think it was worth it to have them wrap my feet in plastic for five minutes. But when I was finished and the gal took me to the drying area, she put her hands on my shoulders and asked me if I wanted a massage. The pressure of her fingers told me she could do a bang-up job. I said yes and she did. It was gooooooddddd.
I wanted to do something for Kyle but pedicures didn't seem to be his thing. I suggested to Laura that we take him out to dinner as a 'thank you' for all he had done. She thought it was a great idea and knew of exactly the place to go. We went there and had a fabulous meal. It felt good to be with the two of them. I feel safe with them and they are protective of me.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Home Again, Home Again
We were exhausted when we got home. Dad was waiting for me. He had had trouble sleeping and had worried about our court appearance all day long. The relief caregiver had been with him because Carmi had gone to court. It was one of the highlights of my day to be able to tell him we don't have to worry about being removed from the house or having Bill in our lives anymore. He face looked so relaxed and reassured. I told him that his safety had been a big consideration in the judge's decision.
Did we celebrate with a big dinner? I just can't remember. We felt vindicated but not elated. Nobody wins in a divorce.
There wasn't enough stress-relief in our evening. The next day we would have to find something to do to de-stress from our big day in court.
Did we celebrate with a big dinner? I just can't remember. We felt vindicated but not elated. Nobody wins in a divorce.
There wasn't enough stress-relief in our evening. The next day we would have to find something to do to de-stress from our big day in court.
Day in Court
The thought of going to court again was extremely unpleasant. If the estranged husband wanted this divorce to start out with a domestic violence charge, the tables had been turned and I wanted to make it stick. I really didn't want to go back to court to try to get an extension on the TRO but it was so nice not having to worry about the ex and his shenanigans. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE, was concerned for my physical safety. There was a mounting succession of erratic and malicious behavior; did we really need to wait for violence? Had enough of a pattern started that would lead a court to believe that violence was in the offing? The burden of proof was on me. I had to prove that I was afraid for my personal safety. I had to make the case for the judge to extend my restraining order. I had been scared and tongue-tied during our last court appearance. I had stammered, my mind had gone blank, being on the spot had been nerveracking. This second date was an extension of that first one, and it was my opportunity to make my case. During the two weeks I had had a lot of time to think. I had realized how I was indeed worried for my safety. I had to make the case for my physical safety, but in my eyes, my emotional safety was far more at risk. The thought of Bill being back in my environment and bombarding me with his agenda was a burden. There is no price tag you can put on the value of your physical or emotional safety.
The kids came back from their vacation a few days early so they could be there to testify. Laura was testifying for me because she wanted to; Kyle was testifying because he had been served with a subpoena. I was sad they had to miss part of the fun with Kyle's family. His grandmother had rented a huge 7-bedroom place on Lake Tahoe, and everyone was there with boats and jet skis. The day the kids left to come home, everyone was parasailing. Yep, the good times had to end early for our two young ones. Back to the gray horror of the courtroom.
We were set for 10:00. Or so we thought. I had wondered why the judge had scheduled us for that hour; that's usually when they take their morning break. As we were in freeway traffic, my phone rang. Laura answered. It was my attorney calling to tell me that the court had scheduled us for 8:30. Surprise! Surprise! We arrived at the courthouse at 9:15 and had to go immediately to the courtroom where we got to sit through quite a number of status hearings before we were called. Our turn came at 11:30. I had written a statement that I had wished to read out loud. The judge asked if I would sign it under penalty of perjury and then everyone could read it during the lunch break. I did.
After lunch my ex, once again representing himself, had me on the witness stand for almost an hour during which time I had to be admonished for speaking too much, speaking before the judge made a ruling on objections, and being 'too conversational' in my responses. I was asked to read sections of my ex's 32-page diatribe where he wrote a number of vicious things about my father. My voice trembled and I was duly humiliated. At one point he was trying to paint a picture of my father as a misogynist, a racist and other things. He asked me how many people I knew who used the 'n' word on a daily basis, but he didn't say 'n word'; he said the 'n' word. Ooooooooh, unhappy judge. He let the ex know that was a word that would not be allowed in his courtroom. Ever. I got to answer questions about 'manicky' behavior and his being a homophobe, and I was able to sum that up telling him that he isn't generally a homophobe, he just doesn't like those who fit my dad's profile: hiding in plain sight, acting like a heterosexual while being a closet homosexual.
Laura testified about changes in her father's behavior over the past several months and my attorney was able to bring out the part where the ex tried to intimidate her out of testifying. Carmi testified that she had never seen him be unkind to my dad. But when my attorney got to cross-examine her, he was able to discuss the time Bill had asked her to leave the house while he had a 'talk' with my dad and how upset my dad was when she returned. I had also added that to the end of my statement. Kyle was not called to testify.
Closing arguments were another story. My attorney did something he had likened to 'building to a crescendo'. He started by reminding the court of the evidence they had heard so far. He talked about how all of these were the signs of a person who is behaving erratically and thoughtlessly, a person who had chosen to abandon his family and accused his wife of trying to kill him. What will he do next? He's erratic and unpredictable. The ex's closing arguments centered around his need to focus on his health, do his yoga and meditation, and do it in the house he had built 97% of. He said my dad and I could find a nice place to live where we could be very happy. He said my dad was a vet and could be in a VA facility where he would be able to get the same care he gets in our home for about the same price. He also said he had put keystroke tracking software on the computer and he knew I was having an affair. By this point I was shaking my head 'no'. Starting at the 97%, I was shaking my head. I didn't know this was against the rules. The judge let me know that was not okay in his courtroom. Yep, he was real clear about it. He told me if I needed one, they could bring me a box of tissues. My attorney muttered out of the side of his mouth, "You need the tissues, you need the tissues." So I nodded and they brought them.
But starting with 97% everything was false. Bill had built maybe 75-80% of the house. Or, more correctly, he had spearheaded about that much work on the house. He had participated as well. There is no doubt he worked hard on various projects at home. He had invested a lot of time and energy. But I would be remiss if I didn't mention that he did not put one penny into any of these projects. Not one penny. Ever. Secondly, my dad is not a vet. He was told he was not going to be given vet status even though he had gone overseas. It was post-war and the armed services had decided that doctors were going to be successful and have lots of money in their careers. They were not ever going to need the help of the VA. And me having an affair: that would be nice. That would be something to buoy me up and keep me going. That would give me something exciting and loving to look forward to. That wasn't something that was happening.
The judge was prepared with his decision. He rendered it in his calm and matter-of-fact voice. He spoke for at least 15 minutes. I couldn't tell which way he was going to go. Would he be sympathetic to Bill? Would he buy the big cancer argument? Did he think I was in danger? How important was Dad's safety? Did he think I was able to pick up and leave with Dad so Bill could do his yoga and meditation? Would he deny the extension of the TRO and allow Bill to move back into the house where he would squat, drive his agenda hard and blackmail me to get him out? (I could only imagine the conversations that would have ensued: "If you want me to leave you'll need to give me $5000 for moving expenses. No, make that $12000. I also need to hire an attorney. I can't leave without at least that much.")
He started by saying this was a unique and difficult case. He thanked Bill for enlightening him on the life of a cancer patient. But in the end, he found in my favor. My TRO would now be extended for five years. FIVE YEARS???!!! I thought he'd give me six months, maybe nine. But five years? He also ordered me to inventory, photograph and pack up all of Bill's personal belongings and have them out of the house within 30 days. In addition, since I had found and photographed no less than 28 pocket knives, he ordered me to sell the knives and split the proceeds with Bill. He said that we have some big stresses in our lives: bringing in an elderly parent is stressful, having cancer is stressful, getting a divorce is stressful. It's how you 'choose' to deal with these stresses that makes the critical difference. He emphasized the word 'choose'. I think he was also talking about how important it is to 'choose' to do good and behave well. He found tampering with Laura's testimony to be almost a crime. He thought putting keystroke monitoring software on the computer to be a form of stalking. He indeed sees a pattern of erratic behavior, not the least of which is the hiring and firing of three attorneys by Bill. Then he told us to go on with our lives.
The kids came back from their vacation a few days early so they could be there to testify. Laura was testifying for me because she wanted to; Kyle was testifying because he had been served with a subpoena. I was sad they had to miss part of the fun with Kyle's family. His grandmother had rented a huge 7-bedroom place on Lake Tahoe, and everyone was there with boats and jet skis. The day the kids left to come home, everyone was parasailing. Yep, the good times had to end early for our two young ones. Back to the gray horror of the courtroom.
We were set for 10:00. Or so we thought. I had wondered why the judge had scheduled us for that hour; that's usually when they take their morning break. As we were in freeway traffic, my phone rang. Laura answered. It was my attorney calling to tell me that the court had scheduled us for 8:30. Surprise! Surprise! We arrived at the courthouse at 9:15 and had to go immediately to the courtroom where we got to sit through quite a number of status hearings before we were called. Our turn came at 11:30. I had written a statement that I had wished to read out loud. The judge asked if I would sign it under penalty of perjury and then everyone could read it during the lunch break. I did.
After lunch my ex, once again representing himself, had me on the witness stand for almost an hour during which time I had to be admonished for speaking too much, speaking before the judge made a ruling on objections, and being 'too conversational' in my responses. I was asked to read sections of my ex's 32-page diatribe where he wrote a number of vicious things about my father. My voice trembled and I was duly humiliated. At one point he was trying to paint a picture of my father as a misogynist, a racist and other things. He asked me how many people I knew who used the 'n' word on a daily basis, but he didn't say 'n word'; he said the 'n' word. Ooooooooh, unhappy judge. He let the ex know that was a word that would not be allowed in his courtroom. Ever. I got to answer questions about 'manicky' behavior and his being a homophobe, and I was able to sum that up telling him that he isn't generally a homophobe, he just doesn't like those who fit my dad's profile: hiding in plain sight, acting like a heterosexual while being a closet homosexual.
Laura testified about changes in her father's behavior over the past several months and my attorney was able to bring out the part where the ex tried to intimidate her out of testifying. Carmi testified that she had never seen him be unkind to my dad. But when my attorney got to cross-examine her, he was able to discuss the time Bill had asked her to leave the house while he had a 'talk' with my dad and how upset my dad was when she returned. I had also added that to the end of my statement. Kyle was not called to testify.
Closing arguments were another story. My attorney did something he had likened to 'building to a crescendo'. He started by reminding the court of the evidence they had heard so far. He talked about how all of these were the signs of a person who is behaving erratically and thoughtlessly, a person who had chosen to abandon his family and accused his wife of trying to kill him. What will he do next? He's erratic and unpredictable. The ex's closing arguments centered around his need to focus on his health, do his yoga and meditation, and do it in the house he had built 97% of. He said my dad and I could find a nice place to live where we could be very happy. He said my dad was a vet and could be in a VA facility where he would be able to get the same care he gets in our home for about the same price. He also said he had put keystroke tracking software on the computer and he knew I was having an affair. By this point I was shaking my head 'no'. Starting at the 97%, I was shaking my head. I didn't know this was against the rules. The judge let me know that was not okay in his courtroom. Yep, he was real clear about it. He told me if I needed one, they could bring me a box of tissues. My attorney muttered out of the side of his mouth, "You need the tissues, you need the tissues." So I nodded and they brought them.
But starting with 97% everything was false. Bill had built maybe 75-80% of the house. Or, more correctly, he had spearheaded about that much work on the house. He had participated as well. There is no doubt he worked hard on various projects at home. He had invested a lot of time and energy. But I would be remiss if I didn't mention that he did not put one penny into any of these projects. Not one penny. Ever. Secondly, my dad is not a vet. He was told he was not going to be given vet status even though he had gone overseas. It was post-war and the armed services had decided that doctors were going to be successful and have lots of money in their careers. They were not ever going to need the help of the VA. And me having an affair: that would be nice. That would be something to buoy me up and keep me going. That would give me something exciting and loving to look forward to. That wasn't something that was happening.
The judge was prepared with his decision. He rendered it in his calm and matter-of-fact voice. He spoke for at least 15 minutes. I couldn't tell which way he was going to go. Would he be sympathetic to Bill? Would he buy the big cancer argument? Did he think I was in danger? How important was Dad's safety? Did he think I was able to pick up and leave with Dad so Bill could do his yoga and meditation? Would he deny the extension of the TRO and allow Bill to move back into the house where he would squat, drive his agenda hard and blackmail me to get him out? (I could only imagine the conversations that would have ensued: "If you want me to leave you'll need to give me $5000 for moving expenses. No, make that $12000. I also need to hire an attorney. I can't leave without at least that much.")
He started by saying this was a unique and difficult case. He thanked Bill for enlightening him on the life of a cancer patient. But in the end, he found in my favor. My TRO would now be extended for five years. FIVE YEARS???!!! I thought he'd give me six months, maybe nine. But five years? He also ordered me to inventory, photograph and pack up all of Bill's personal belongings and have them out of the house within 30 days. In addition, since I had found and photographed no less than 28 pocket knives, he ordered me to sell the knives and split the proceeds with Bill. He said that we have some big stresses in our lives: bringing in an elderly parent is stressful, having cancer is stressful, getting a divorce is stressful. It's how you 'choose' to deal with these stresses that makes the critical difference. He emphasized the word 'choose'. I think he was also talking about how important it is to 'choose' to do good and behave well. He found tampering with Laura's testimony to be almost a crime. He thought putting keystroke monitoring software on the computer to be a form of stalking. He indeed sees a pattern of erratic behavior, not the least of which is the hiring and firing of three attorneys by Bill. Then he told us to go on with our lives.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Out of $$$$
Let's see, you say you are out of money. How can that be???? I gave you $4054 on the 28th. That was two weeks ago. A week or so before that you got $5000 by getting a loan on the Acura. Then you said you got a loan for $7250 from a friend, AND you got your monthly $850 from Social Security. That comes to $17,000 or thereabouts. If you paid back the loan on the car, subtract about $5300. Hmmmmmmm.....You DON'T have a place to live, you DON'T have an attorney. You DO have a new laptop computer. You DO have a new fancy dancy camera. And you need more money? Let's do some math here. The camera probably cost $3000. The laptop cost $750. Let's say you've spent 22 of the last 32 nights in a motel. Let's say that motel cost $75 a night because I know that's about what they cost around here, and they're less in the desert. That's $1650. Then there's food. Let's say you spend $20 a day on food. 32 days of $20 would make $640. I know you have spent at least 6 nights at Agua Caliente on Tina's freebies but you DO have to pay some kind of tax, like $25 a night. So let's add in $150 for that. Then let's say you have splurged on some really nice meals. We'll add another $200. So what does that come to? And then there's gas. Let's say $200 for gas. Can that add up to $2840? Now, let's go over that income again and get some possible totals. There's a maximum of $17,000 if you really got a loan from a friend and you DIDN'T pay back the loan on the Acura. That would give you over $14000. Then, maybe you DID pay back the Acura loan. That would make about $11,700. Subtract $2840 and you would have almost $9000. What if you DIDN'T get the loan from a friend and you DID pay back the Acura loan. That would make $9,750 minus about $5300, leaving $4450. Subtract $2840 and you end up with $1650. Gee, that doesn't add up to you being out of money. Oh! But I forgot! You have a new camera and a new laptop. And you've been making swell motions in court and hiring and firing attorneys. Oh, and let's not forget the casinos. In my mind, that's what this is all about. You chose gambling over being married. I wonder where the money went. I wonder now. Have you been playing a little poker? Well, then, I guess you're out of money. You better sell your new camera.
Deception and Subpoenas
We need to find a way to get things to you. We need to find a willing party who will take things you need from the house to wherever you are. There are things you need. I understand that. You get mail here and you need to be able to read it in a timely manner. You have belongings, clothing, tech stuff, keys, etc. But you are behaving like one mean and nasty SOB.
You asked Carmi to take your mail over to you at David's. She did. When she got there you served her with a subpoena, a very sloppily done subpoena. When she got back to the house she showed it to me. "Oh, no. Not again," I thought. Not only did she have to go back to court but the scratched out sections of the subpoena let me know that you were going to be the attorney. 'In pro per' it said under your name. Here we are, back at square one again. You have fired another attorney. Having Carmi bring you your mail was just a ploy to serve her. I don't think she'll be helping out anymore.
Friday evening you were out in the desert and you told Laura you wanted to give her our GPS as a graduation present. She took the bait. You arrived at her house and gave her the Tomtom. You told them you had fired your attorney. You said something to the effect that she wouldn't do what you wanted her to do so you 'fired the bitch because she wasn't doing her job'. (I think this is more a matter of you not knowing the law than a matter of her not doing her job but when you are manicky you believe you can do no wrong. I can see how in your mind an attorney must do exactly what you say or they are history.) Then you excused yourself to go into the bathroom. When you came out, you served Kyle with a subpoena. He and Laura were stunned. She was speechless and couldn't even choke out the words to tell you you were never welcome in her house again. You told her you wouldn't call Kyle to testify if she didn't take the stand for me. She said, "Bring it on." They will both be testifying on Thursday.
Now who do you think is going to be bringing you your stuff from now on? Carmi? Kyle? I. Don't. Think. So.
You asked Carmi to take your mail over to you at David's. She did. When she got there you served her with a subpoena, a very sloppily done subpoena. When she got back to the house she showed it to me. "Oh, no. Not again," I thought. Not only did she have to go back to court but the scratched out sections of the subpoena let me know that you were going to be the attorney. 'In pro per' it said under your name. Here we are, back at square one again. You have fired another attorney. Having Carmi bring you your mail was just a ploy to serve her. I don't think she'll be helping out anymore.
Friday evening you were out in the desert and you told Laura you wanted to give her our GPS as a graduation present. She took the bait. You arrived at her house and gave her the Tomtom. You told them you had fired your attorney. You said something to the effect that she wouldn't do what you wanted her to do so you 'fired the bitch because she wasn't doing her job'. (I think this is more a matter of you not knowing the law than a matter of her not doing her job but when you are manicky you believe you can do no wrong. I can see how in your mind an attorney must do exactly what you say or they are history.) Then you excused yourself to go into the bathroom. When you came out, you served Kyle with a subpoena. He and Laura were stunned. She was speechless and couldn't even choke out the words to tell you you were never welcome in her house again. You told her you wouldn't call Kyle to testify if she didn't take the stand for me. She said, "Bring it on." They will both be testifying on Thursday.
Now who do you think is going to be bringing you your stuff from now on? Carmi? Kyle? I. Don't. Think. So.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Ending School
Once I returned to the house, it felt like things would soon find a sense of normalcy; like a set of scales that had been knocked, life was rocking back and forth but would, in time, right itself and stay still. I knew there would be more hits ahead, the scales of life would be set rocking more times in the next several months. I also knew there would be many dirty tricks, some of which would be deliberate attempts to run up my legal fees as promised. And I was right.
After the judge gave me possession of the house, I could finally turn my attention to finishing out the school year. There was so much to be done. I still had to finish my progress reports, make certificates, acknowledge volunteers, attend IEP meetings for incoming students, finish the cum files, and do the biggest job of all: secure and close up a 1200 square-foot classroom for summer cleaning. It was a monumental task and being locked out of the house and dragged to court had taken a lot of time away from it. But that was part of your master plan: blindside me while I have heavy demands at work as well as deliberately run up legal fees, lie to the court, steal and squander assets, and threaten and intimidate wherever possible.
You did not disappoint.
Work was a pleasant distraction from the divorce. I told very few people what had happened. They were feeling sympathetic and sorry for me that you had pancreatic cancer. They didn't all know that your tumor was shrinking and that your prognosis was excellent. It can be a strange juxtaposition of feelings for people to be sad and concerned that someone has as grave a diagnosis as pancreatic cancer and then find out that person is mean and selfish. Strange, too, is realizing that horrible people get cancer. How do you parcel out your emotions when a cancer patient is also a jerk? On one level you feel compassion, on another anger. One of the first things I told my colleagues was that your tumor was responding to the chemo and was shrinking, that you would be able to have the Whipple Plus surgery, and you were going to be one of those rare people who lived ten or more years with pancreatic cancer. We know people who have lived 9 and 10 years, and I even know a man whose pan can was diagnosed early and has now lived 18 more years. Laying that groundwork made it more comprehensible to people when I later told them you were gambling, were disinclined to do anything to protect me from any fallout, and that you had chosen divorce. They were shocked and aghast when I told them you had locked me out of the house.
My students rose to the occasion during the last days of school. It all went by in a blur but the kids worked hard and even washed and packed away much of the supplies. Somehow it all got done and on the last day of school we had a beautiful presentation of certificates and a pizza party. As is my custom, I called the children up one-at-a-time and said something unique and special about each one as I passed out their certificates. It was a bit challenging to say terrific things about a couple of them, but I find I love my students, even if their actions have made it tough to be their teacher, and I manage to find the words.
On that final afternoon, after everyone had gone their way, I finished the last bits of packing and stowing. This was one year where I hadn't gotten to the point of desperation I have always called 'Stash and Dash', where I reach a level of such exhaustion that I randomly shove loose items into cupboards and closets just to be done and go home. When it was finally finished, I turned in my keys. We had had several emails about turning in keys this year, unlike in other years. There has been a high incidence of theft at schools and somehow, someone felt it was related to teachers keeping keys over the summers. It will be interesting to see if, after this mass key 'turn-in', there is less campus thefts. I left school knowing that when school resumed in the fall I would return with a new life to a new office, a new principal and a new set of students. My life would be radically different, a thought that both excited and worried me.
After the judge gave me possession of the house, I could finally turn my attention to finishing out the school year. There was so much to be done. I still had to finish my progress reports, make certificates, acknowledge volunteers, attend IEP meetings for incoming students, finish the cum files, and do the biggest job of all: secure and close up a 1200 square-foot classroom for summer cleaning. It was a monumental task and being locked out of the house and dragged to court had taken a lot of time away from it. But that was part of your master plan: blindside me while I have heavy demands at work as well as deliberately run up legal fees, lie to the court, steal and squander assets, and threaten and intimidate wherever possible.
You did not disappoint.
Work was a pleasant distraction from the divorce. I told very few people what had happened. They were feeling sympathetic and sorry for me that you had pancreatic cancer. They didn't all know that your tumor was shrinking and that your prognosis was excellent. It can be a strange juxtaposition of feelings for people to be sad and concerned that someone has as grave a diagnosis as pancreatic cancer and then find out that person is mean and selfish. Strange, too, is realizing that horrible people get cancer. How do you parcel out your emotions when a cancer patient is also a jerk? On one level you feel compassion, on another anger. One of the first things I told my colleagues was that your tumor was responding to the chemo and was shrinking, that you would be able to have the Whipple Plus surgery, and you were going to be one of those rare people who lived ten or more years with pancreatic cancer. We know people who have lived 9 and 10 years, and I even know a man whose pan can was diagnosed early and has now lived 18 more years. Laying that groundwork made it more comprehensible to people when I later told them you were gambling, were disinclined to do anything to protect me from any fallout, and that you had chosen divorce. They were shocked and aghast when I told them you had locked me out of the house.
My students rose to the occasion during the last days of school. It all went by in a blur but the kids worked hard and even washed and packed away much of the supplies. Somehow it all got done and on the last day of school we had a beautiful presentation of certificates and a pizza party. As is my custom, I called the children up one-at-a-time and said something unique and special about each one as I passed out their certificates. It was a bit challenging to say terrific things about a couple of them, but I find I love my students, even if their actions have made it tough to be their teacher, and I manage to find the words.
On that final afternoon, after everyone had gone their way, I finished the last bits of packing and stowing. This was one year where I hadn't gotten to the point of desperation I have always called 'Stash and Dash', where I reach a level of such exhaustion that I randomly shove loose items into cupboards and closets just to be done and go home. When it was finally finished, I turned in my keys. We had had several emails about turning in keys this year, unlike in other years. There has been a high incidence of theft at schools and somehow, someone felt it was related to teachers keeping keys over the summers. It will be interesting to see if, after this mass key 'turn-in', there is less campus thefts. I left school knowing that when school resumed in the fall I would return with a new life to a new office, a new principal and a new set of students. My life would be radically different, a thought that both excited and worried me.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Trust
Last night my friend said, "You don't have trust issues. You have only one person in your life you can't trust; it's your husband. You got blinded. You were in love. Unfortunately you were in love with a selfish narcissist who will lie, cheat and steal to get what he wants. He had your number and he used you. Everyone else you can trust. Right? Can you trust Beth?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust your dad?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust Rose?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust Carolina?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust me?"
"Of course."
"Who else can you trust?"
"My brother and sister, Kathleen, Mark, Rose Marie, Rosie, Lisa, Sally, Larry, Tim, Laura, Kyle, just about everybody."
"Ok, so you don't have trust issues. You won't be in therapy for years over trust. You won't have difficulty entering into a new relationship because you can't trust."
"But I'll be much more careful and I won't get in a rebound relationship. I'll take my time. I'll learn to be me and to enjoy my aloneness. I'll pay more attention to details. I won't 'settle'. I won't do anything out of desperation. I am a valuable commodity and I won't sell myself short. But I don't sleep around and I'm not easy but let's talk about that some other time."
"Yes."
"Can you trust your dad?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust Rose?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust Carolina?"
"Yes."
"Can you trust me?"
"Of course."
"Who else can you trust?"
"My brother and sister, Kathleen, Mark, Rose Marie, Rosie, Lisa, Sally, Larry, Tim, Laura, Kyle, just about everybody."
"Ok, so you don't have trust issues. You won't be in therapy for years over trust. You won't have difficulty entering into a new relationship because you can't trust."
"But I'll be much more careful and I won't get in a rebound relationship. I'll take my time. I'll learn to be me and to enjoy my aloneness. I'll pay more attention to details. I won't 'settle'. I won't do anything out of desperation. I am a valuable commodity and I won't sell myself short. But I don't sleep around and I'm not easy but let's talk about that some other time."
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Some Days
Some days are just great. I fly through them as if I have always lived happily like this. I smile, I go out to eat, I chatter with friends, the time goes by without me noticing. Texts and emails asking me how I am are easy to answer. I enjoy the tasks I have to do around the house and I look to find more things for me to do. I clean out drawers and closets in anticipation of my new life, the joy of my aloneness.
But not other days. Other days, I feel like there is a dark, heavy, wet blanket draped over my entire life, following me wherever I go, weighing me down, making every move an unpleasant chore. I get out of bed in the morning and immediately want to crawl back in. Moving is like trudging through molasses. On these days time goes slowly. There is nothing I want to do. I force myself to take care of business, talk to Dad, interact, make phone calls, take care of the house. I live in a fragile place where one person's wrong comment can cause me to retreat into a deep emotional hole. I am hypersensitive, a wounded little bird. The divorce seems larger than life, like it will never end, like it will dominate my entire future and destroy me. It's days like these when I most need the encouragement of those I love. Texts and emails asking me how I am are not so easy to answer, and I try to be honest without blowing people away or sounding histrionic.
But not other days. Other days, I feel like there is a dark, heavy, wet blanket draped over my entire life, following me wherever I go, weighing me down, making every move an unpleasant chore. I get out of bed in the morning and immediately want to crawl back in. Moving is like trudging through molasses. On these days time goes slowly. There is nothing I want to do. I force myself to take care of business, talk to Dad, interact, make phone calls, take care of the house. I live in a fragile place where one person's wrong comment can cause me to retreat into a deep emotional hole. I am hypersensitive, a wounded little bird. The divorce seems larger than life, like it will never end, like it will dominate my entire future and destroy me. It's days like these when I most need the encouragement of those I love. Texts and emails asking me how I am are not so easy to answer, and I try to be honest without blowing people away or sounding histrionic.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
They Babysit Me
The first nights were a relief for me but people who cared about me were worried for my safety. Many people offered to come over and sleep in the middle bedroom if I wanted. I didn't really want it; I was just so glad to be back in the house. Dolores said she'd come over after dinner. No, I was okay, I said. Kyle didn't take 'no' for an answer. He sent his best friend over to stay. From out in the desert, he called his friend and had him come over to be my bodyguard. He wanted to watch TV. And try as I might, I could NOT get anything to work for him. He was my sentinel, though, and I don't know if he ever slept at all. He took his post quite seriously.
My sister flew down on Friday. What joy she brought to me! She was my constant companion for three days. We talked, we watched movies, we somehow got the TV to work, she went with me to the concert and she helped with Dad. The concert was music of the 60's. We loved every minute of it. We chair danced and Dad got annoyed. The trio sang. We wore our blond beehive wigs with peace-symbol headbands and sang 'Our Day Will Come' and 'Do-Wah Diddy'. Having her here was wonderful support. The time went by so quickly. The next thing I knew, she was on a plane for home again.
As my sister and other family members became aware of our impending divorce, they shared things they had held back for twenty-two years. It wasn't as if I hadn't known. They didn't like you. They felt I had sold myself short when I married you. My brother, who likes and accepts everybody, said that his Shit List, albeit short, has you on it. All were cautious about sharing their feelings, more out of hesitation that I might take you back again than out of deference to you. Now they send me encouraging text messages every day. My brother's is: "Trust me. You're way too good for that worthless bum. You're gonna make it and it will all be over before you know it. And it will be worth it!" My little sister's is: "Hi, Honey, just want you to know we're thinking about you and love you. No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind can conceive of the glorious riches God has prepared for those who love Him. Keep your eyes on Jesus---everything else will confuse you and make you question yourself. Trust HIM!"
My sister flew down on Friday. What joy she brought to me! She was my constant companion for three days. We talked, we watched movies, we somehow got the TV to work, she went with me to the concert and she helped with Dad. The concert was music of the 60's. We loved every minute of it. We chair danced and Dad got annoyed. The trio sang. We wore our blond beehive wigs with peace-symbol headbands and sang 'Our Day Will Come' and 'Do-Wah Diddy'. Having her here was wonderful support. The time went by so quickly. The next thing I knew, she was on a plane for home again.
As my sister and other family members became aware of our impending divorce, they shared things they had held back for twenty-two years. It wasn't as if I hadn't known. They didn't like you. They felt I had sold myself short when I married you. My brother, who likes and accepts everybody, said that his Shit List, albeit short, has you on it. All were cautious about sharing their feelings, more out of hesitation that I might take you back again than out of deference to you. Now they send me encouraging text messages every day. My brother's is: "Trust me. You're way too good for that worthless bum. You're gonna make it and it will all be over before you know it. And it will be worth it!" My little sister's is: "Hi, Honey, just want you to know we're thinking about you and love you. No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind can conceive of the glorious riches God has prepared for those who love Him. Keep your eyes on Jesus---everything else will confuse you and make you question yourself. Trust HIM!"
But Was I Really Safe?
As the thoughts of you standing over me with a knife or a gun started to pop up in my head, another thing starting slowly dawning. Arguing. When we argued early on, I learned some lessons. I responded viscerally, and my learning curve was steep. When we would argue, you gave me verbal signals when to stop. If I didn't pay attention to the verbal signals, you gave me physical signals. They frightened me, I internalized them, and they became so ingrained they were subconscious. During an argument you didn't want to continue your words were, "Stop! Just stop!" If I didn't stop the first two times you said those words, you would start to lose control. Your eyes would widen and get steely. Your nostrils would flare. You would clench your fists. I remember that once you told me if I didn't stop, you would lose control and you wouldn't be able to predict what you would do. It wouldn't be in my best interest to let you get to that point. How long ago did this pattern start? I can't remember. Again, it was you controlling our lives, controlling me, making sure you got your way even if it meant threatening my safety. I never got to pursue something I wanted to if you said, "Stop! Just stop!" How is it that you could badger and harangue me to your hearts content, no matter how many times I asked you to stop? And I didn't get violent. Yet, I am the one who was accused of violence? Could this have been projection? Once you threw a phone into the fake fireplace in front of Laura. She was terrified. She cried. She remembers that to this day. You weren't saying, "Stop! Just stop!" You were angry about something. And probably manicky too. Hmmmmm.....Let's see now. I couldn't talk about things you didn't want to discuss, but you could hammer away at me no matter how many different ways I asked you to stop. Oh,yeah, I forgot. The rules were always different for you.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Still Changing the Locks
So, I had never really feared for my safety with you. Or so I thought. But the locks were getting on my nerves. Randy had said I should contact one of those security companies. Suzin said I should put locks on the windows. Kyle said I should replace the locks. Ah, but they're expensive, and I didn't want to do that. Hmmmmmm.....one owner's manual was missing. The front door's technical writing had left something to be desired. But in time we waded through all the babble and found ways to change the codes. That said, I still didn't feel safe. Your behavior has been so angry and unpredictable lately. And you got so vicious and lied so fast. How far into crazy are you gonna go? I had some visions of waking in the middle of the night to see YOU standing over me with a big kitchen knife in your hand. I had visions of you holding back just one gun-----that's all it would take, wouldn't it? Just. One. Gun.------over my bed. It would be all over then. I still didn't feel safe. I put extra locks on. At night we put on the extra locks. Then I feel safe. Suzin found one gate that didn't have any kind of lock on it. I went out and bought a padlock.
I had already had an unplanned security check. By me. Three days after our court date I was singing in a show at church. My sister was here. I told her how to lock the front door and leave by the back after she got Dad and the caregiver out that evening because I had to leave an hour ahead of them. I would come home ahead of them, let myself in through the back door by using the keypad there, and then meet the three of them at the front door. But NO! I zoomed on home ahead of the three of them, went to the back door, and punched in the code. Nothing. I punched it in again. This had been the door for which we could not find an instruction manual. In order to solve that problem, you had taken the batteries out. The keycode could not be used. I didn't have a key. I looked into the house through the sliding doors. One window was open. I pushed it up the rest of the way, moved a chair out from under it, and went in, concert black and all. I was very pleased with my breaking and entering skills but not pleased with my lax security.
The next day when Laura and Kyle came over, we solved our security problems.
I had already had an unplanned security check. By me. Three days after our court date I was singing in a show at church. My sister was here. I told her how to lock the front door and leave by the back after she got Dad and the caregiver out that evening because I had to leave an hour ahead of them. I would come home ahead of them, let myself in through the back door by using the keypad there, and then meet the three of them at the front door. But NO! I zoomed on home ahead of the three of them, went to the back door, and punched in the code. Nothing. I punched it in again. This had been the door for which we could not find an instruction manual. In order to solve that problem, you had taken the batteries out. The keycode could not be used. I didn't have a key. I looked into the house through the sliding doors. One window was open. I pushed it up the rest of the way, moved a chair out from under it, and went in, concert black and all. I was very pleased with my breaking and entering skills but not pleased with my lax security.
The next day when Laura and Kyle came over, we solved our security problems.
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