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.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
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.
Changing the Locks
You treated this order to move out like it was a picnic. You sat. You chatted. You let Oliver do most of the work. Lots of guns and ammunition left the premises. Geez, how many of those things did you have? And WHY? At one point the pastor came out to the front porch to talk to me about something. You decided to come out and join us. REALLY??? You stretched out in one of the porch chairs like we were all going to have a friendly 'chat'. You asked the pastor if he did mediation. He said he didn't do the kind of mediation we needed, only the spiritual kind. You said that's what you wanted. You wanted to go to mediation with him with me. Are you on CRACK??? We have restraining orders and you think I'm going to sit in the same room with you and talk? You also told the pastor that I had a boyfriend and that you had copies of emails where you said I had written 'I love you. I love you' to my boyfriend. Let me just say that I am very, very interested in seeing these emails because I don't have a boyfriend and I haven't told any of my male correspondents that I love them. I might have said I 'love' receiving emails from them. I might have said I 'love' being in touch with them. I might have said I 'love' one thing or another. But I am not IN LOVE with anyone so therefore I have not said "I love you" to anyone. I sign all my emails, "Love, Cindy". I am changing that now but maybe I shouldn't. I don't have to prove anything to you. I don't have to change my behavior if I am not doing anything wrong. My phone rang just then and it was my attorney. He wanted to know how things were going. He told me he doesn't care what you say. It has become apparent that if your lips are moving, you are lying. I'll add something to that: If your lips are moving or your fingers are on a keyboard, you're lying.
Dad woke up from his nap and was sitting in his lift chair as you were making your final trip to the van. You said goodbye and that it might be the last time he ever would see you. Dad was confused. He had known nothing about me being locked out of the house. Carmi and I had made up stories, and it worked for two days. It wouldn't have worked much longer. He didn't even know we were getting divorced. I sat down next to Dad and explained that we were getting a divorce, that you had locked me out of the house, and that a judge had ordered you out. What a relief to finally fill him in! I felt I had made the house safe for the two of us. He looked at the pastor and asked him if he had known about it. Yes, he did. I had gone to him for pastoral counseling right after I filed for dissolution. I had told him everything. He said that technically Christians can only get divorced in cases of adultery, but that you had been breaking our marriage vows for years. I told him he could brief Dad on what had happened. He was gracious. He said you had put me in a position where I had been backed into a corner and this was the only way I could protect myself, Laura, him and everything I had spent my life working for. Well put. And true.
The judge had said I could change the locks on the house. That took some time. The elder had figured out how to change the master fingerprint on the keypad lock.
Dad woke up from his nap and was sitting in his lift chair as you were making your final trip to the van. You said goodbye and that it might be the last time he ever would see you. Dad was confused. He had known nothing about me being locked out of the house. Carmi and I had made up stories, and it worked for two days. It wouldn't have worked much longer. He didn't even know we were getting divorced. I sat down next to Dad and explained that we were getting a divorce, that you had locked me out of the house, and that a judge had ordered you out. What a relief to finally fill him in! I felt I had made the house safe for the two of us. He looked at the pastor and asked him if he had known about it. Yes, he did. I had gone to him for pastoral counseling right after I filed for dissolution. I had told him everything. He said that technically Christians can only get divorced in cases of adultery, but that you had been breaking our marriage vows for years. I told him he could brief Dad on what had happened. He was gracious. He said you had put me in a position where I had been backed into a corner and this was the only way I could protect myself, Laura, him and everything I had spent my life working for. Well put. And true.
The judge had said I could change the locks on the house. That took some time. The elder had figured out how to change the master fingerprint on the keypad lock.
Home Again
On the way out of the courtroom you were already doing your 'slippery' thing. You told my attorney you had chemo at 4 pm and your cancer support group that evening. My attorney said if you had been well enough to cancel your chemo for Tuesday in order to spend the day in court telling the judge lies and getting restraining order against me, you were certainly well enough to cancel it again today. HAH! I hired the right guy! The judge told us to wait until the TRO's were signed and copied before leaving. You started to leave. As you pushed the elevator button, my attorney called out and reminded you that you had been instructed to stay put. HAH! (You didn't have your hearing aids on.)
On the way home my attorney told me to get on the phone and have some men meet me at the house. I called the pastor. He and an elder were there when we arrived. Dad had just gotten home from the men's group luncheon at church and had gone in for what became a mega-nap. I saw you as I drove past the house. I didn't know how to honor the TRO. We were to remain 100 yards from each other's home, workplace and vehicle. I parked several houses away. A neighbor was outside. She asked me if I was okay. I said no and started to cry. I briefly told her what had happened. She said something about being glad she had never gotten married. I could see her point. My attorney was gesturing and calling to me. I walked toward the house. As I looked back I saw my neighbor doubled up in pain on the ground. I was torn: do I go to the attorney or go back to find out what had happened to my neighbor? I decided on the former as I had seen other neighbors walking to help the fallen one. My attorney walked me through the house. Did it look the same? Look carefully. Is everything the way I had left it? You had gotten another neighbor's grown son to help load the van. The pastor and elder sat with you while you packed. The pastor called my other two trio friends to sit with me on the porch. I cried. I didn't want this to happen. How DID this happen? How did we go from you badgering me to give you money to hire a lawyer and move out to a judge throwing you out of the house and the two of us having mutual restraining orders? We had passed 'Go' and I hadn't collected $200, not even a Community Chest card. Why was your first move Domestic Violence? This was irreparable. We had a court date set to extend or terminate the TRO's on June 28. For the time being, I had the 'Get Out of Jail Free' card.
On the way home my attorney told me to get on the phone and have some men meet me at the house. I called the pastor. He and an elder were there when we arrived. Dad had just gotten home from the men's group luncheon at church and had gone in for what became a mega-nap. I saw you as I drove past the house. I didn't know how to honor the TRO. We were to remain 100 yards from each other's home, workplace and vehicle. I parked several houses away. A neighbor was outside. She asked me if I was okay. I said no and started to cry. I briefly told her what had happened. She said something about being glad she had never gotten married. I could see her point. My attorney was gesturing and calling to me. I walked toward the house. As I looked back I saw my neighbor doubled up in pain on the ground. I was torn: do I go to the attorney or go back to find out what had happened to my neighbor? I decided on the former as I had seen other neighbors walking to help the fallen one. My attorney walked me through the house. Did it look the same? Look carefully. Is everything the way I had left it? You had gotten another neighbor's grown son to help load the van. The pastor and elder sat with you while you packed. The pastor called my other two trio friends to sit with me on the porch. I cried. I didn't want this to happen. How DID this happen? How did we go from you badgering me to give you money to hire a lawyer and move out to a judge throwing you out of the house and the two of us having mutual restraining orders? We had passed 'Go' and I hadn't collected $200, not even a Community Chest card. Why was your first move Domestic Violence? This was irreparable. We had a court date set to extend or terminate the TRO's on June 28. For the time being, I had the 'Get Out of Jail Free' card.
Getting Locked Out
I went to work on Monday June 7 expecting something unpleasant to happen when you returned from your weekend in the desert. You had sent me some of your 'threatening' messages via text. I knew you were writing something. You said you were going to show this 'something' to a judge in an attempt to have me and my dad evicted from our home. I figured you were going to play the cancer card. I didn't see how anything could happen imminently but I am unschooled in the law; that's one reason why I have shelled out lots of money for an attorney.
Work has always been all-consuming for me. The days fly by and, as is the case at the end of the school year, the time with the children is just a portion of the job. This day I had a meeting with a parent and administrator after dismissal. I wanted to retain the parent's child: not something I do often. A century of research that doesn't support retention as an effective practice for intervention doesn't seem to slow our country's taste for continuing it. In fact, it seems to have ramped up with recent trends, strengthening it by tethering it to test scores. I had wanted to retain this child since the first week of school and I had mentioned it at every meeting with his parents. He was classically not ready for kindergarten and hadn't had much behavior change since September.
You walked in during this conference. You put a letter on my desk and asked me to read it as soon as I was finished. What a bastard you are! What a mean-spirited, horrible man you have started to be! One friend says I was the only one who didn't see it, and she hopes that now I do. But whatever your motivation, whatever sense of entitlement drives what you're doing, whatever your goal is right now, do you realize that you have lost the best friend you ever had? Do you realize you have lost the one person who stood by you through all kinds of adversity, criticism and failure? Someday you will come down off of this manicky high------that's right, I don't care what you did to con your doctors, I know your mania and you are very manicky right now------and you will be overwhelmed by the path of destruction you have taken. This letter you left on my desk was addressed to the watch commander at our local police station. You said you had locked me out of our home and that I had tried to kill you three times during our marriage. You gave some lame description of me holding a knife and tensing up when we were arguing in the kitchen. Really??? Could I have both simultaneously been dicing a potato and being harangued by you? Gee.......does one tense up when pressing down on a potato with a knife???
The message was clear, and I could tell it was directed at me: you have guns in the house, you were claiming that I had threatened your life, therefore you were afraid for you life, and you would shoot me and claim self-defense if I tried to get in the house. This in itself was an act of violence on your part. I was locked out; my dad and his caregiver were locked in. You told the caregiver that if they 'cooperated' and didn't let me in, they would have no problem. I could have Carmi bring things to the corner or you would put them in our van that was parked there, and I could pick them up. You told the watch commander I would be staying at Suzin's. How helpful.
I stayed at Suzin's. I spent the night on the phone. The next day my attorney had an associate go to court for him and present my petition but the judge said it needed to be written up on domestic violence forms and would be heard on Wednesday. My petition was rewritten and it was a 'tell-all'. Even so, I thought I was fighting a losing battle. You were going to play the cancer card and I was going to look like a heartless monster. What kind of woman tries to kill a man with pancreatic cancer and then files for divorce? On Wednesday morning I met my attorney at 7 a.m., and he drove me to the courthouse. I was exhausted. I sat in the courtroom shaking, my mouth was dry, and I thought I was going to lose control of my bladder. You walked in at 10:00 and then walked right back out. A minute later someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was myself. I said, "Yes," and was served with a TRO (temporary restraining order) and a 30-Day Notice to Vacate for my dad and myself. I handed them to my attorney. He then whispered that that service had been illegal. When it was finally our turn, the judge swore us in. I claimed your allegations were completely false. The judge asked me about your guns. I didn't know a thing about how many you had or what kinds they were; I had never paid attention to them. He asked me how the house had been purchased and how title had been held, and when. He asked me if I had any information to add. I informed him that I had been served with a TRO and a notice to vacate while sitting in his courtroom. I was surprised when he decided that you had four hours to move out of the house and two days to either sell your guns to a licensed gun dealer or turn them in to the police department. My attorney reached over, took my hand and said, "You've been vindicated. We got everything we asked for." Honestly, we got everything we asked for plus. My attorney had said we were asking for me to be reinstated to the master bedroom and that what we eventually wanted was for you to be removed from the house. It turns out you had spent all of Tuesday in court getting your motions granted by this judge. When he found out what a LIAR you are, I think he got ticked off and threw the book at you. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person. I covered up your crap for too long. No more. Now the truth comes out. You can live like a leech and steal from the one person who loves and defends you, then turn around and fabricate unbelievable lies about them. But you can't get away with it. The part where you accused me of attempted murder was hurtful and I tried to find out where the kernel of truth might be, but it just isn't there. My friends bust up into gales of laughter when they talk about it. One friend said, "If my husband said I tried to kill him, people would believe him. If L's husband said she'd tried to kill him, people might believe it. But CINDY, with her singsong voice and endless patience!!! That just cracks me up!!!"
Work has always been all-consuming for me. The days fly by and, as is the case at the end of the school year, the time with the children is just a portion of the job. This day I had a meeting with a parent and administrator after dismissal. I wanted to retain the parent's child: not something I do often. A century of research that doesn't support retention as an effective practice for intervention doesn't seem to slow our country's taste for continuing it. In fact, it seems to have ramped up with recent trends, strengthening it by tethering it to test scores. I had wanted to retain this child since the first week of school and I had mentioned it at every meeting with his parents. He was classically not ready for kindergarten and hadn't had much behavior change since September.
You walked in during this conference. You put a letter on my desk and asked me to read it as soon as I was finished. What a bastard you are! What a mean-spirited, horrible man you have started to be! One friend says I was the only one who didn't see it, and she hopes that now I do. But whatever your motivation, whatever sense of entitlement drives what you're doing, whatever your goal is right now, do you realize that you have lost the best friend you ever had? Do you realize you have lost the one person who stood by you through all kinds of adversity, criticism and failure? Someday you will come down off of this manicky high------that's right, I don't care what you did to con your doctors, I know your mania and you are very manicky right now------and you will be overwhelmed by the path of destruction you have taken. This letter you left on my desk was addressed to the watch commander at our local police station. You said you had locked me out of our home and that I had tried to kill you three times during our marriage. You gave some lame description of me holding a knife and tensing up when we were arguing in the kitchen. Really??? Could I have both simultaneously been dicing a potato and being harangued by you? Gee.......does one tense up when pressing down on a potato with a knife???
The message was clear, and I could tell it was directed at me: you have guns in the house, you were claiming that I had threatened your life, therefore you were afraid for you life, and you would shoot me and claim self-defense if I tried to get in the house. This in itself was an act of violence on your part. I was locked out; my dad and his caregiver were locked in. You told the caregiver that if they 'cooperated' and didn't let me in, they would have no problem. I could have Carmi bring things to the corner or you would put them in our van that was parked there, and I could pick them up. You told the watch commander I would be staying at Suzin's. How helpful.
I stayed at Suzin's. I spent the night on the phone. The next day my attorney had an associate go to court for him and present my petition but the judge said it needed to be written up on domestic violence forms and would be heard on Wednesday. My petition was rewritten and it was a 'tell-all'. Even so, I thought I was fighting a losing battle. You were going to play the cancer card and I was going to look like a heartless monster. What kind of woman tries to kill a man with pancreatic cancer and then files for divorce? On Wednesday morning I met my attorney at 7 a.m., and he drove me to the courthouse. I was exhausted. I sat in the courtroom shaking, my mouth was dry, and I thought I was going to lose control of my bladder. You walked in at 10:00 and then walked right back out. A minute later someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if I was myself. I said, "Yes," and was served with a TRO (temporary restraining order) and a 30-Day Notice to Vacate for my dad and myself. I handed them to my attorney. He then whispered that that service had been illegal. When it was finally our turn, the judge swore us in. I claimed your allegations were completely false. The judge asked me about your guns. I didn't know a thing about how many you had or what kinds they were; I had never paid attention to them. He asked me how the house had been purchased and how title had been held, and when. He asked me if I had any information to add. I informed him that I had been served with a TRO and a notice to vacate while sitting in his courtroom. I was surprised when he decided that you had four hours to move out of the house and two days to either sell your guns to a licensed gun dealer or turn them in to the police department. My attorney reached over, took my hand and said, "You've been vindicated. We got everything we asked for." Honestly, we got everything we asked for plus. My attorney had said we were asking for me to be reinstated to the master bedroom and that what we eventually wanted was for you to be removed from the house. It turns out you had spent all of Tuesday in court getting your motions granted by this judge. When he found out what a LIAR you are, I think he got ticked off and threw the book at you. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person. I covered up your crap for too long. No more. Now the truth comes out. You can live like a leech and steal from the one person who loves and defends you, then turn around and fabricate unbelievable lies about them. But you can't get away with it. The part where you accused me of attempted murder was hurtful and I tried to find out where the kernel of truth might be, but it just isn't there. My friends bust up into gales of laughter when they talk about it. One friend said, "If my husband said I tried to kill him, people would believe him. If L's husband said she'd tried to kill him, people might believe it. But CINDY, with her singsong voice and endless patience!!! That just cracks me up!!!"
My Other Blog
When you were first diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I started a blog called 'Sayinggoodbyetoyou'. It was a way I could express my feelings about your health and what happened as we coped with this devastating form of cancer. But, as usual, you were 'atypical'. Your pan can wasn't the aggressive, fast-growing cancer found in about 97% of all pan can patients. Yours was extremely slow-growing. In fact, yours stopped growing immediately upon discovery. You had a duodenal bypass and within a month after surgery you were eating regular food and regaining your strength. You started eating solid foods during Thanksgiving week. For three weeks prior to your surgery you had been losing about a pound of weight a day. I thought you were dying before my eyes.
I was there with you for the surgery, the chemo treatments, the CT scans, the doctors' appointments. I even went to your new cardiologist with you.
Now, we don't do anything together. Now we have restraining orders. I am spared the aggravation of your emails, phone calls and text messages. I don't know how your health is, but I think you are going to live a long time. And I will 'get' to pay you spousal support as long as that long time lasts.
I was there with you for the surgery, the chemo treatments, the CT scans, the doctors' appointments. I even went to your new cardiologist with you.
Now, we don't do anything together. Now we have restraining orders. I am spared the aggravation of your emails, phone calls and text messages. I don't know how your health is, but I think you are going to live a long time. And I will 'get' to pay you spousal support as long as that long time lasts.
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