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.