Tuesday, October 16, 2012

One step closer

I went to the courthouse, and was not turned away, even temporarily.  I went through the security, and the woman there smiled at me and told me she loved my dress and that my boots were fabulous.

That helped.  Of course, I took her words to mean that I was smokin' hot with a great sense of fashion and that men for miles around would be craving my company in the near future.  Because if I didn't have some small fantasy to get me through I think I would have run screaming from the building.

I spent a couple hours waiting in this line then that line, and I was done.  I have filed for dissolution of marriage (I don't believe that the word "divorce" was on a single piece of paper - why is that?), and on January 16th I will stand in front of a judge and say "yes" or something, and then I will be divorced.

Oh, after I attend a half hour parenting class, and a half hour family law class, and visit the mediator two more times to finish paperwork.  But that seems smaller now that the papers are filed.

First of all:
That sucked.  No fantasy could erase that I was there to officially declare my marriage dead.  It wasn't a good marriage, I can't benefit from it any longer....but I mourn its death anyway.  Of course I do.

Second of all:
What crazy fool believes that a half hour parenting class makes any difference whatsoever?  Seriously?  For me, I'm pretty sure it's a major waste of time (I have a fair number of parenting classes much more than a half hour in duration under my belt, and I've read every parenting book I can get my hands on, I've been to lectures, I participate in a mom-group, I used to be a teacher and I have a masters in education....need I say more?!), but for those people who really need it, who haven't had access to resources like parenting classes or don't come from a background where it's common to read a zillion parenting books (and I've graduated to parenting books about children of divorce), well, what on earth is going to happen in that half hour class that does much good?  I expect that I will hear that I should not belittle my daughter's father, that I should encourage their relationship, that I should set aside my feelings about the marriage and put my daughter's needs first.  I expect that they'll suggest that I do not make her act as a go-between, that I look for mood swings and other indicators of anxiety or distress.  I suspect that they'll make suggestions about introducing dates only after they're serious relationships.  I'll bet we get a list of parenting websites and books.

I guess I'll find out.

Anyway, now my divorce - ahem, sorry, "dissolution" - has a number, and that makes it official.

How appropriate that as in marriage, it is in divorce.  I'm running around like a fool, and I deliver it to him on a silver platter.

I had a minor panic attack.  I hid it from the world - I'm good at that - but it hurt.  Literally.  Like my rib cage was two sizes too small.

I'm laying low tonight.  I just need to catch my breath.

One step closer.


  1. I know... It doesn't seem to make any sense to grieve, but there you have it.
    My divorce has a number too, & since I've transcribed it so many times over the years I've got it memorized: 54-783. Fortunately those digits seem to have no other connection to any other important facts n' figures in my life, eventually they will fade from my memory.
    Hang in there, dear.

  2. Oh, Polly. This part of the journey is like cleaning out your closet - it looks(feels)way worse before it starts looking(feeling)better. One day at a time, one foot in front of the other. One day you'll be gloriously, blissfully happy again. When that time comes - and it will - remember this: it takes everything to happen the way it did to make things the way they are.

    Hugs, sister.

  3. Val and Jean, thank you so much for your support and validation! Jean, I love the vision of the closet cleaning. I can't wait to set it back into order, and will work towards that....