Phone Calls

My mental state was starting to worry me. I had never felt this down in my life. When we left court I felt like a villain. I had not been able to present my response to Bill's charges. The judge had given the attorneys some tasks that were going to be harmful to me and a waste of legal time. I felt a series of emotional events start to emerge and felt I didn't have the fortitude to change their course. Bill's attorney was a dolt but he was cunning. He couldn't argue his point, but he could disappear from the courtroom and cost me some big bucks. There was an unpredictability to his behavior that also made me feel out of control. I felt there were more tricks to come. Two days after court I caught a cold that morphed into bronchitis and stayed for .....well, so long that I still have it in a way. I wheezed and coughed for over three weeks without the telltale signs I had learned to look for: yellow or greenish mucous. After over three weeks, a friend said that if you have something like this for over ten days, you need to be on an antibiotic. I understood. I had been told that mucous is the perfect medium in which bacteria can grow. It would only be a matter of time before an infection cropped up. But on the other hand I had also been told antibiotics were useless unless you have an infection. Which advice should I follow? Deciding I had nothing to lose, I went home and started taking an antibiotic Dad had been given but never started because he had been hospitalized immediately after their purchase. After the first course I felt somewhat better but not entirely well. I took another course. After that I felt even better but was not convinced it was completely out of my system. However, I waited until my annual physical this past week. I was experiencing tightness in my chest. I thought it could have been one of three things: I was having heart problems (I do have slightly elevated cholesterol), my acid reflux was reemerging, or I still had some bronchitis. The doctor confirmed the third. He said it was no wonder I hadn't felt like exercising during the past couple of months. I was wheezing and there was still congestion in there. That was the tightness.

Tightness aside, there was another issue. The lack of exercise and the length of this illness had taken a toll on my emotional well-being. My moods had become so dark that I was reluctant to share my thoughts or feelings with anyone in my immediate physical surroundings. On a friend's suggestion I selected two people who were spiritually, emotionally and psychologically insightful and also knew me extremely well. One was my youngest sister and the other was one of my oldest friends, a friend I made right after I started working at my school but who had moved to Ohio about 20 years ago. Both of these women are strong, insightful, caring and generous to a fault. And more importantly, I knew they loved me and was reasonably sure they wouldn't judge me. That we share the same faith was a critical piece in this choice. It wasn't about who was my 'best' friend, who was my favorite sister, or who would keep confidentiality. This was unique. I wanted people who were strong enough to handle the burden of the darkness I was feeling, someone who lived far away from me, and someone who could help me spiritually walk out of this place. There are others I could have asked but some were grappling with major issues, others were very busy and there was a small element of shame because the strength I had felt for so long was abandoning me. I needed women who had faced similar circumstances and who could make a regular time to speak with me on the phone. It turned out well.

I called each of them. Right away I told them I wanted to ask a big favor, get a commitment from them, and told them this was going to be a burden. I told them I would understand completely if they were not in a position to help me with this. I knew their lives were demanding, they had responsibilities, and they have their own problems. I also knew them well enough that I could present this to them and feel I could be very good at ensuring them it was okay not to participate. They both agreed. They were honored. They were happy to help me with this. I was relieved and started to believe that I was going to find recovery in these conversations. I speak with one of them on Tuesday afternoons and the other on Friday evenings. Sometimes the conversations last only 20 minutes, sometimes they last an hour. These phone calls, and the medications I take for the bronchitis, are helping climb out of the hole I've been in for the past 8 weeks.

I return to court on Thursday. My attorney and I have worked hard at preparing for it, and I have become more assertive in setting the course to finish this divorce. I feel things are looking up. I am going to be fine.