F
or most people, once the
divorce is final the hostil-
ities settle down. Interac-
tions – though perhaps tense –
assume a more-or-less agreeable
tone; custodial exchanges be-
come routinized if not peaceful;
court dates drop off to nothing.
Life resumes, equalizing to a new
version of normal.
This has not been, and doesn’t
look like it ever will be, my
experience. Nearly 3 years later,
the hostility remains as intense
as immediately after separation.
Emails hurl hyperbole and ad
hominem at me liberally, and
I’ve had as much court this third
year as the second, almost one
hearing per month, with no end
in sight. Though the actual di-
vorce has been final for a while,
there are still issues to address.
I look back over the first two
years, how court and divorce
(which takes nearly a year and
a half) proceedings controlled
my life. My emotions. My iden-
tity. How I, like Jacob Marley,
dragged chains everywhere with
me.
Some of this has, surprisingly,
had positive effects. My identity?
Is stronger now – all those “I’d
never make it through (fill in the
blank)” or “(this) would fucking
kill me”… I have faced hell over
and over, the worst possible
events in my life, the things I
literally believed would end me,
and do you know what? I fucking
survived. I’m still here. In spite of
everything, I rise; I’m thriving.
I reached a point earlier this
year – when I got notification
opposing party (OP) filed five
more hearings this summer – and
I snapped. A fire rose inside, a
defiance. I would no longer put
my life on hold, while I waited
for the inevitable next hearing.
Court hearings have become a
weird, chaotic constant in my
life. They are going to happen;
I cannot stop them without
giving up my rights – which is
untenable. I decided I wouldn’t
obsess over my prep, writing and
rewriting my cross-examination
questions or closing summations.
Wouldn’t internally visualize
court, testifying, oral arguments
day in and day out. Where I
needed these things for a time, I
recognize I no longer do.
This entire experience was
meant to consume me, to prevent
me from focusing on anything
else. To be subject to OP’s whims
and games. To keep me shackled
to him and to the past, locked in
a cycle of anxiety-prepare-hear-
ing-decompress again and again.
I’d previously put career things
on hold…until this next hear-
ing was done. Except there was
always another hearing. I threw
off the heavy yoke – and damn,
it was stranglingly heavy – and
decided it was time to pursue my
life outside of divorce, outside of
court.
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