Ah, anonymous commenters, you bring me back every time. The latest comment reminded me of how long it has been since I posted - three months! And so much has happened.
WARNING - BITTERNESS BELOW
My divorce from Jake was finalized in April. It was such a strange process. We worked though our lawyers to come up with a separation agreement. It was incredibly awkward since he is in prison and has very limited ability to talk to his lawyer. He wouldn't agree to let me change the kids' names to my maiden name - no surprise there. He also wanted me to pay off one of his debts as part of the divorce. This sent me through the roof with anger. I recently had to file bankruptcy because I couldn't afford childcare, let alone credit card payments left over from my destructive marriage. I feel like my unfortunate financial circumstances all lead back to him. I don't want to be childish, but in all fairness, HE owes ME money and great apologies. Instead, my lawyer talked me into appeasing him by promising that if he is ever taken to court and forced to pay off the credit card then I will forgive him from having to pay a portion of child support. This is all quite laughable - and I laughed like an insane person gone manic when my lawyer came up with it because: A) the state of Colorado doesn't believe that incarcerated persons should have to pay child support, B) the debt is so small that it is unlikely any credit card company will care enough to take him to court, and C) even after he is out he will never pay me child support as long as he lives because he has a knack for wiggling out of all responsibilities. Basically, I got nothing out of the divorce except my freedom from him and a huge lawyer bill.
At least I have a few years before he can get visitation with the kids. I fear the time when he will have access to them. How will he con them? Will it be for sex or money? God help me that I have to lay awake at night worrying about these things. Well, before he can see them he has to be out of prison and through a certain amount of sex offender treatment. Any visitation will be supervised. There is a little comfort in that, I suppose.
I thought I had six years to prepare for the time when the kids would be exposed to him again. Six years was what I believed his earliest release date would be with good behavior. However, when I looked Jake up in the prison system, they have his first parole hearing listed just three years from now. My heart sank when I saw that. Just three years. Do I dare hope that they routinely deny parole for a few years? I am terrified for my kids. They don't deserve to have such a father. They really don't deserve to have him reintroduced to their lives while they're too young to understand his manipulative ways. How can I protect them?
Well, I am thankful that the divorce is final. I have a second chance to choose a better life for myself and the kids. It's been hard. We're poor. But we're often happy despite everything else. In terms of the future, I'll just have to hope for the best.
Showing posts with label money and debt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money and debt. Show all posts
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Thursday, May 24, 2012
On the path to divorce
Lately, as I explain to my closest family and friends that I am planning to divorce Jake and move away from here, they tend to say something like, "It sounds like you are on the right path."
My response to that is, "Sure, I'm on the path, but I have no idea where it is going or how to take the first step." But I guess it's good that I'm on the path.
This path is really freaking steep and rocky and you wouldn't believe what they charge at the toll booth . . .
Anyhow, I'm taking this divorce idea very seriously now. I talked to my lawyer about it. (By the way, every time I say "my lawyer" I squirm a little. I still haven't got used to the fact that there is a lawyer that I have paid enough money in the past that I actually call her "my lawyer"). She thinks it will be fairly easy, given the criminal position my husband is in.
I talked to a friend of mine that recently divorced her abusive husband. She was reassuring and full of advice. She also thinks this will be easy.
Easy or not, I'm still terrified of going through with this divorce. The worst part, I think, will be breaking the news to Jake and his family. I'm nervous about how Jake will take the news. I've never seen him act out in a violent way, but I'm still scared. Even now, he has no idea that I'm planning to divorce him, but he knows I'm mad at him and he knows that I don't think he's fit to be a father . . . and that's enough to keep me awake at night, scared he's going to snap and come kill us. I try to tell myself that we're safe because he has the ankle monitor on, but the ankle monitor will just alert the sheriff that he's left the property. It doesn't physically stop him. So, in theory, he could get in a car, drive the two miles of gravel road (straight shot to our house) and do damage before the police even get in their cars ten miles away in town.
It's paranoia, I'm sure. Again, I've never seen him be violent - self-centered, greedy, insensitive, but not violent. But just in case, I had a friend of our family remove Jake's guns and ammo from our house. To be extra safe, I'm keeping this divorce hush-hush until the day I file. That same day, I'm going to say good-bye to this house and drive off in a moving van.
It get's tricky after that because a person filing for divorce can't leave the state without the permission of the court. So I'll be in limbo for a little while. I'll stay at a local hotel or a friends' house - just as long as I'm closer to the police than Jake. That's okay, though, because I want a little time to tell my friends what's happening and say good-bye. I want Elise to be able to say good-bye to her friends, too. And I really want to tell Jake's parents in person about the divorce. My own mother cringes at that idea because she knows, as I know, that they won't understand. I am pretty sure they will only tell me I'm doing the wrong thing and think the worst of me. It's going to be tough.
It's also going to be expensive. My friend who divorced her abusive husband spent $3500 on the divorce. I have $4500 in savings. That money was intended for the move and living expenses when I get there. I'm just holding my breath that the judge lets me move sooner than later so I can find a job before the lawyer's bill rolls in!
My response to that is, "Sure, I'm on the path, but I have no idea where it is going or how to take the first step." But I guess it's good that I'm on the path.
This path is really freaking steep and rocky and you wouldn't believe what they charge at the toll booth . . .
Anyhow, I'm taking this divorce idea very seriously now. I talked to my lawyer about it. (By the way, every time I say "my lawyer" I squirm a little. I still haven't got used to the fact that there is a lawyer that I have paid enough money in the past that I actually call her "my lawyer"). She thinks it will be fairly easy, given the criminal position my husband is in.
I talked to a friend of mine that recently divorced her abusive husband. She was reassuring and full of advice. She also thinks this will be easy.
Easy or not, I'm still terrified of going through with this divorce. The worst part, I think, will be breaking the news to Jake and his family. I'm nervous about how Jake will take the news. I've never seen him act out in a violent way, but I'm still scared. Even now, he has no idea that I'm planning to divorce him, but he knows I'm mad at him and he knows that I don't think he's fit to be a father . . . and that's enough to keep me awake at night, scared he's going to snap and come kill us. I try to tell myself that we're safe because he has the ankle monitor on, but the ankle monitor will just alert the sheriff that he's left the property. It doesn't physically stop him. So, in theory, he could get in a car, drive the two miles of gravel road (straight shot to our house) and do damage before the police even get in their cars ten miles away in town.
It's paranoia, I'm sure. Again, I've never seen him be violent - self-centered, greedy, insensitive, but not violent. But just in case, I had a friend of our family remove Jake's guns and ammo from our house. To be extra safe, I'm keeping this divorce hush-hush until the day I file. That same day, I'm going to say good-bye to this house and drive off in a moving van.
It get's tricky after that because a person filing for divorce can't leave the state without the permission of the court. So I'll be in limbo for a little while. I'll stay at a local hotel or a friends' house - just as long as I'm closer to the police than Jake. That's okay, though, because I want a little time to tell my friends what's happening and say good-bye. I want Elise to be able to say good-bye to her friends, too. And I really want to tell Jake's parents in person about the divorce. My own mother cringes at that idea because she knows, as I know, that they won't understand. I am pretty sure they will only tell me I'm doing the wrong thing and think the worst of me. It's going to be tough.
It's also going to be expensive. My friend who divorced her abusive husband spent $3500 on the divorce. I have $4500 in savings. That money was intended for the move and living expenses when I get there. I'm just holding my breath that the judge lets me move sooner than later so I can find a job before the lawyer's bill rolls in!
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Who's paying for all of this?
Welcome to the end of another long week. Yet again, I am playing catch-up with laundry, dirty dishes, and a long "to do" list. On the bright side, one of my big chores today is to put together all of Jake's bills, statements, checkbooks, and whatever else he needs so that he can take care of them by himself (imagine that). I feel like I'm shedding old skin as I create the pile to send to him. The only problem is I don't know how I will get it to him. The last time he was living with his parents it was strongly recommended that I not use my in-laws as messengers. I could drop it off with his PO, but I didn't really like the results of that last time . . . So I think I'll mail it, which is so weird because they live just two miles away (in the country where there is only one house every mile, that isn't very far!). The post office is going to think I'm crazy.
I've had to explain the new situation with several friends and family recently, so I think maybe I need to explain it here. Jake is out on bail for the current case against him (sexual assault against a minor). Last year's case (attempted sexual assault against a minor) ended with a sentence of 90 days in jail OR one year work release, either option being followed by ten years of sexual offender probation. He chose work release because it allows him to be out of jail twelve hours each day to earn an income. When he was arrested on the new charges, he was only a few months into his first sentence. Obviously, to be jailed for new charges meant that he couldn't exercise the work release option, so it reverted to a regular jail sentence. His first jail sentence is therefore served and all that is left is the ten years of probation. If you followed all that, you get a gold star!
His bail terms now are identical to his probation terms with the added security of an electric ankle monitor. Probation for a sex offender is much more intense than for any regular convict. I would even consider the probation to be more of a punishment than the jail-time. He is not allowed any contact with minors. He has VERY limited places he is allowed to go, approved by his PO and TP, and supposedly monitored by the anklet. I believe he has to call the local sheriff every time he arrives at a new location, too. He will attend treatment with a specially trained sex offender treatment provider (TP). He will have monthly "maintenance" polygraphs to make sure he is obeying the terms of his probation. He will also have one big "sex history" polygraph to set the foundation for his treatment and ensure that he hasn't done anything illegal. In preparation for the sex history polygraph he has to disclose all of his sexual activities (yes, I said ALL, legal and illegal from his entire life). That disclosure can be used in new investigations against him, which is likely how they found the accuser of the new charges.
Did I miss anything? The probation is pretty daunting, right? Well, eventually, a sex offender can work toward contact with his kids and other minor family members, if those people are receptive to it. And after a few years, with really good behavior, an offender can petition to be removed for the sex offender registry. So there is hope to someday lead a normal life. The problem is that the probation is very stringent for the sake of public safety and holds so much stigma that, in my mind at least, it adds more stress to the already injured psyche of the sex offender. More stress equals higher chances of offending. From what I can see, it's a lose-lose situation for the offender and our society. In fact, the legal system seems full of lose-lose situations. I don't know the answers, but I sure wish someone did.
Speaking of losing battles, the legal system is a financial trap for offenders and their families. After Jake's sentencing, when he was promptly jailed as part of his sentence, a bill arrived at his parents' house from the court. When I got a look at it, I was appalled. They sent Jake a bill for court, jail, and estimated probation costs that totaled more than $10,000 with a message at the bottom along the lines of "If you don't start making payments immediately, we will start adding fines." Um, they did realize that the man they were billing was in jail, right? That he wouldn't receive the bill? What a trap! So, of course, his dad started paying the bill. Then we found out that they don't actually supply anything for inmates beyond a set of clothes and food. Shoes, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and anything else must be purchased by the inmate. How do they purchase these things? Their families put money in an account with atrocious processing fees or it goes on some mysterious bill that will likely be sent to their home with an absurd message like above.
I can't wait to see the bill for the electric ankle monitor!
While I'm on the topic of money, let me explain how bonds work. Jake's bail was set at $100,000. If someone wanted to pay bail, they could give the court the full amount as a sort of assurance that Jake would appear in court without fail. At the end of a trial (and someone can correct me if I'm over simplifying this), the full bail amount will be returned to whoever it came from. Most people can't afford to set bail, so that's where a bondsman comes in. To get Jake's bail, his grandma paid 10% of the bail amount to a bondsman. The bondsman then posted the full bail to the court and now the burden is on the bondsman to assure that Jake goes to court. At the end of the trial, the bondsman will get all his money back AND he will keep the 10% that grandma paid him as a fee for services. Except for the occasional hiring of bounty hunters for those people who do flee, the bondsman gig is pretty cush!
Anyhow, Jake finally did get out on bail yesterday. I have more to say about that, but all this explaining now has me burnt out. I'll try to write more tomorrow. Back to laundry!
I've had to explain the new situation with several friends and family recently, so I think maybe I need to explain it here. Jake is out on bail for the current case against him (sexual assault against a minor). Last year's case (attempted sexual assault against a minor) ended with a sentence of 90 days in jail OR one year work release, either option being followed by ten years of sexual offender probation. He chose work release because it allows him to be out of jail twelve hours each day to earn an income. When he was arrested on the new charges, he was only a few months into his first sentence. Obviously, to be jailed for new charges meant that he couldn't exercise the work release option, so it reverted to a regular jail sentence. His first jail sentence is therefore served and all that is left is the ten years of probation. If you followed all that, you get a gold star!
His bail terms now are identical to his probation terms with the added security of an electric ankle monitor. Probation for a sex offender is much more intense than for any regular convict. I would even consider the probation to be more of a punishment than the jail-time. He is not allowed any contact with minors. He has VERY limited places he is allowed to go, approved by his PO and TP, and supposedly monitored by the anklet. I believe he has to call the local sheriff every time he arrives at a new location, too. He will attend treatment with a specially trained sex offender treatment provider (TP). He will have monthly "maintenance" polygraphs to make sure he is obeying the terms of his probation. He will also have one big "sex history" polygraph to set the foundation for his treatment and ensure that he hasn't done anything illegal. In preparation for the sex history polygraph he has to disclose all of his sexual activities (yes, I said ALL, legal and illegal from his entire life). That disclosure can be used in new investigations against him, which is likely how they found the accuser of the new charges.
Did I miss anything? The probation is pretty daunting, right? Well, eventually, a sex offender can work toward contact with his kids and other minor family members, if those people are receptive to it. And after a few years, with really good behavior, an offender can petition to be removed for the sex offender registry. So there is hope to someday lead a normal life. The problem is that the probation is very stringent for the sake of public safety and holds so much stigma that, in my mind at least, it adds more stress to the already injured psyche of the sex offender. More stress equals higher chances of offending. From what I can see, it's a lose-lose situation for the offender and our society. In fact, the legal system seems full of lose-lose situations. I don't know the answers, but I sure wish someone did.
Speaking of losing battles, the legal system is a financial trap for offenders and their families. After Jake's sentencing, when he was promptly jailed as part of his sentence, a bill arrived at his parents' house from the court. When I got a look at it, I was appalled. They sent Jake a bill for court, jail, and estimated probation costs that totaled more than $10,000 with a message at the bottom along the lines of "If you don't start making payments immediately, we will start adding fines." Um, they did realize that the man they were billing was in jail, right? That he wouldn't receive the bill? What a trap! So, of course, his dad started paying the bill. Then we found out that they don't actually supply anything for inmates beyond a set of clothes and food. Shoes, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and anything else must be purchased by the inmate. How do they purchase these things? Their families put money in an account with atrocious processing fees or it goes on some mysterious bill that will likely be sent to their home with an absurd message like above.
I can't wait to see the bill for the electric ankle monitor!
While I'm on the topic of money, let me explain how bonds work. Jake's bail was set at $100,000. If someone wanted to pay bail, they could give the court the full amount as a sort of assurance that Jake would appear in court without fail. At the end of a trial (and someone can correct me if I'm over simplifying this), the full bail amount will be returned to whoever it came from. Most people can't afford to set bail, so that's where a bondsman comes in. To get Jake's bail, his grandma paid 10% of the bail amount to a bondsman. The bondsman then posted the full bail to the court and now the burden is on the bondsman to assure that Jake goes to court. At the end of the trial, the bondsman will get all his money back AND he will keep the 10% that grandma paid him as a fee for services. Except for the occasional hiring of bounty hunters for those people who do flee, the bondsman gig is pretty cush!
Anyhow, Jake finally did get out on bail yesterday. I have more to say about that, but all this explaining now has me burnt out. I'll try to write more tomorrow. Back to laundry!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Shoveling shit and feeling depressed
I was really affected by the pastor's wife suggesting I needed anti-depressants. When she said it I thought, That's funny, I don't feel depressed. But now I feel depressed!
I just had one of those funny days where I was having a good time while the sun was up, but now that the sun has set and I see the time creeping toward bedtime I'm getting really down. I find myself sighing a lot and thinking negative thoughts. The majority of those thoughts are about money and how I'm not making any. I seem to work, work, work, but have nothing to show for it.
When my mother was visiting, she witnessed this constant "work" I'm doing. A lot of the things I do involve sorting out bills and obligations that Jake left hanging. It involves lots of phone calls and research on the internet and sorting his junk to sell online and the like. At the end of one exhausting day, I couldn't think of a single thing I accomplished. I asked my mother why I was so worn out and she said, "Because you're shoveling shit. And it's not even your own shit."
It was sort of a surprisingly crass thing for my mother to say, but it defined my life right now so well that I think of it at the end of every day. I'm shoveling shit. I pour myself another glass of wine and raise a toast to all the shit I shoveled each day!
That brings me back to depression. I was trying to think of what was making me depressed. The shit shoveling. The lack of alone time. The lack of parental support . . . Yeah, yeah, but those are old news that I thought I had gotten used to. The stress of a new job? Sure, but that is equally balanced by the promise of a paycheck. So that brings me to the wine. Yes, I think I will blame the wine that I started drinking again when my mother visited.
It relieves some pressure to have something to blame, even if it is an unlikely one. It gives me something to change - something within my power - with the hopes that I'll feel better in a few days. So tonight I had a cup of my favorite tea instead of my usual glass of wine. Cheers. And here's to a brighter tomorrow.
I just had one of those funny days where I was having a good time while the sun was up, but now that the sun has set and I see the time creeping toward bedtime I'm getting really down. I find myself sighing a lot and thinking negative thoughts. The majority of those thoughts are about money and how I'm not making any. I seem to work, work, work, but have nothing to show for it.
When my mother was visiting, she witnessed this constant "work" I'm doing. A lot of the things I do involve sorting out bills and obligations that Jake left hanging. It involves lots of phone calls and research on the internet and sorting his junk to sell online and the like. At the end of one exhausting day, I couldn't think of a single thing I accomplished. I asked my mother why I was so worn out and she said, "Because you're shoveling shit. And it's not even your own shit."
It was sort of a surprisingly crass thing for my mother to say, but it defined my life right now so well that I think of it at the end of every day. I'm shoveling shit. I pour myself another glass of wine and raise a toast to all the shit I shoveled each day!
That brings me back to depression. I was trying to think of what was making me depressed. The shit shoveling. The lack of alone time. The lack of parental support . . . Yeah, yeah, but those are old news that I thought I had gotten used to. The stress of a new job? Sure, but that is equally balanced by the promise of a paycheck. So that brings me to the wine. Yes, I think I will blame the wine that I started drinking again when my mother visited.
It relieves some pressure to have something to blame, even if it is an unlikely one. It gives me something to change - something within my power - with the hopes that I'll feel better in a few days. So tonight I had a cup of my favorite tea instead of my usual glass of wine. Cheers. And here's to a brighter tomorrow.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Getting a Job
I have a graduate degree in science and I'm a successful grant writer and columnist. I'm tech-savvy, have great customer service skills, and make good first impressions (on future employers, at least). So aren't you dying to know what my cool new job I got with my stunning resume? I'm a temporary, part-time, office assistant. I file. All. Day. Long.
I'm really happy to have this job - no joke! Back in my single days - before I had kids and before the economy tanked - I had never gone to a job interview and not been offered the job. No wait, a restaurant wouldn't hire me as a waitress one summer because I didn't have any waiting experience. But other than that, I've NEVER been turned down for a job after the interview. So why did I get turned down after three different job interviews before I got this current position? I have a few theories. First, I live in a small rural town. They don't have a lot of high-paying science or writing jobs for me to apply to, so I applied to everything and anything. Second, I'm over-qualified for every job I applied for, which employers don't seem to like. Third, I was competing with at least ten other over-qualified people for each job. My conclusion is that it's not me, it's the job market. Right now, the economy is down which has pushed good people out of jobs and pushing otherwise non-workers back into them out of financial desperation. Now everyone is competing for meager pickings.
It was difficult to apply for jobs that I didn't really want at wages that were dismally below what I need. But Jake really left me in a financial bind. I put off serious job-seeking for a year and scraped by on miraculous tax refunds and gifts of money from anonymous donors at church. Right at the beginning of the year, I decided to take a serious stab at building a writing career. I really threw myself into it and felt like I was starting to understand the writing world when Jake was arrested again. It took away all my confidence. At least when he was on probation there was a chance that he could help with the bills. But with him in jail, I'm the sole bread-winner and my "writing career" wasn't ready for that pressure. So I applied for every job under the sun and finally got one.
All last week, I filed my little heart out! I have multiple paper cuts on each finger. My children went to daycare full time, but they seem to be handling it well. I must have made a good impression while I was tucked away in the filing room that they've nicknamed "the dungeon" because they invited me to work more hours in the coming weeks. I get to set my own schedule, so I'm thinking of working four full days filing and one part day writing. Maybe I won't have to drop my writing dreams after all . . .
In case you're wondering if my spouse's ugly situation is the reason I didn't get some of those jobs, I don't think so. As far as I know, only one employer knew about my family history and I'm confidant they didn't hold it against me because they're my church. My supervisor and all my peers at this new job commute into our town every day and don't read our paper, so they are blissfully unaware. I'm sure they will figure it out in a few months, but by then I hope they know me well enough to only think less of him and not me. What a sad way to face the world, right?
I'm really happy to have this job - no joke! Back in my single days - before I had kids and before the economy tanked - I had never gone to a job interview and not been offered the job. No wait, a restaurant wouldn't hire me as a waitress one summer because I didn't have any waiting experience. But other than that, I've NEVER been turned down for a job after the interview. So why did I get turned down after three different job interviews before I got this current position? I have a few theories. First, I live in a small rural town. They don't have a lot of high-paying science or writing jobs for me to apply to, so I applied to everything and anything. Second, I'm over-qualified for every job I applied for, which employers don't seem to like. Third, I was competing with at least ten other over-qualified people for each job. My conclusion is that it's not me, it's the job market. Right now, the economy is down which has pushed good people out of jobs and pushing otherwise non-workers back into them out of financial desperation. Now everyone is competing for meager pickings.
It was difficult to apply for jobs that I didn't really want at wages that were dismally below what I need. But Jake really left me in a financial bind. I put off serious job-seeking for a year and scraped by on miraculous tax refunds and gifts of money from anonymous donors at church. Right at the beginning of the year, I decided to take a serious stab at building a writing career. I really threw myself into it and felt like I was starting to understand the writing world when Jake was arrested again. It took away all my confidence. At least when he was on probation there was a chance that he could help with the bills. But with him in jail, I'm the sole bread-winner and my "writing career" wasn't ready for that pressure. So I applied for every job under the sun and finally got one.
All last week, I filed my little heart out! I have multiple paper cuts on each finger. My children went to daycare full time, but they seem to be handling it well. I must have made a good impression while I was tucked away in the filing room that they've nicknamed "the dungeon" because they invited me to work more hours in the coming weeks. I get to set my own schedule, so I'm thinking of working four full days filing and one part day writing. Maybe I won't have to drop my writing dreams after all . . .
In case you're wondering if my spouse's ugly situation is the reason I didn't get some of those jobs, I don't think so. As far as I know, only one employer knew about my family history and I'm confidant they didn't hold it against me because they're my church. My supervisor and all my peers at this new job commute into our town every day and don't read our paper, so they are blissfully unaware. I'm sure they will figure it out in a few months, but by then I hope they know me well enough to only think less of him and not me. What a sad way to face the world, right?
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Con Man
Have you ever been conned?
I remember being conned by a guy in San Francisco when I was 12. I was with my mom. We wanted to ride the cable car, so we were reading the instructions on the ticket machine. A guy came up, offered to help, and sold us two tickets - one was valid and the other was expired. On the cable car, the ticket collector made us pay for another ticket. It was embarrassing. It made us feel stupid and sad. We had lost money, comfort, pride, and self esteem. It ruined the whole day. Still, as much as I enjoy San Francisco, it makes me think of that day and causes me pain.
My husband's actions have recreated those feelings of being conned. Only take the feelings of one instance on one day and multiply them times every day of every year of our four years of marriage. Add to that the pain that is attached to every memory of him as a husband and father - every memory that I used to cherish. I can't even look at our children without feeling such deep sorrow. They deserved a father, not a felon. We were conned.
Grief is the other part of what I'm feeling. I shouldn't say "other" since my emotions are all intertwined. I should say that sometimes my ever-shifting array of emotions resembles grief. The husband I thought I had has died in my mind and heart, over and over. The worst part is that it never stops because he is actually still alive. It's like having a ghost haunting you in the image of someone once dear to you. It keeps the pain fresh.
In a moment of anger, a week or so after Jake was arrested, I said to my friend J, "It would have been easier if he had died." I regretted those words almost immediately because, well, they just aren't nice. I believe death is a serious thing, not to be wished on our worst enemies. But those words still ring true. If he had died, the grief would have an end. If he had died, I wouldn't be embarrassed to talk about him. If he had died, I wouldn't worry about the other kids at school shunning my children because of what their father is. And (most shameful thought of all) if he had died, his life insurance would keep us afloat instead of this financial hole he has left us in.
Death would have been easier. That's just a fact. But if he were to die, I'd probably regret ever thinking it.
I remember being conned by a guy in San Francisco when I was 12. I was with my mom. We wanted to ride the cable car, so we were reading the instructions on the ticket machine. A guy came up, offered to help, and sold us two tickets - one was valid and the other was expired. On the cable car, the ticket collector made us pay for another ticket. It was embarrassing. It made us feel stupid and sad. We had lost money, comfort, pride, and self esteem. It ruined the whole day. Still, as much as I enjoy San Francisco, it makes me think of that day and causes me pain.
My husband's actions have recreated those feelings of being conned. Only take the feelings of one instance on one day and multiply them times every day of every year of our four years of marriage. Add to that the pain that is attached to every memory of him as a husband and father - every memory that I used to cherish. I can't even look at our children without feeling such deep sorrow. They deserved a father, not a felon. We were conned.
Grief is the other part of what I'm feeling. I shouldn't say "other" since my emotions are all intertwined. I should say that sometimes my ever-shifting array of emotions resembles grief. The husband I thought I had has died in my mind and heart, over and over. The worst part is that it never stops because he is actually still alive. It's like having a ghost haunting you in the image of someone once dear to you. It keeps the pain fresh.
In a moment of anger, a week or so after Jake was arrested, I said to my friend J, "It would have been easier if he had died." I regretted those words almost immediately because, well, they just aren't nice. I believe death is a serious thing, not to be wished on our worst enemies. But those words still ring true. If he had died, the grief would have an end. If he had died, I wouldn't be embarrassed to talk about him. If he had died, I wouldn't worry about the other kids at school shunning my children because of what their father is. And (most shameful thought of all) if he had died, his life insurance would keep us afloat instead of this financial hole he has left us in.
Death would have been easier. That's just a fact. But if he were to die, I'd probably regret ever thinking it.
But then, maybe this is part of the con - making me a victim of my own angry thoughts.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Is that you, God?
If you've been wondering where I've been, I've been avoiding all of you because I can't seem to write the second part of my story and I'm ashamed.
But I came running back to tell you about my weird day yesterday.
Despite all my recent dreams about moving on in the world of relationships, I spent the last week anxiously awaiting a letter from Jake. In my last letter, I told him how scared I was about the mortgage. I told him I wouldn't stay here and let the mortgage suck me dry, no matter how much I love the house. I told him he should think about selling it and that I was packing.
Around the time I sent the letter, I told his parents something similar. Kay seems to get it and supported the idea of selling the house, but Big Rev is classically in denial. He said, "Well, I think your moving too fast on this," and "We should wait to see what happens," and even "Are you going to leave the house to go into foreclosure?" And I, in my own classic form, get riled up, snap at him that this is not my fault, and then feel guilty about it for days.
Big Rev really did work on me and made me feel guilty. I was anxious about the letter because I thought I had started a fight with Jake, like I always do with Big Rev. After all, Jake is the one that I really want to yell at.
But when I got the letter yesterday, it was so nice! It was full of suggestions for items among his belongings that I could sell. He even managed to get through the whole letter without any self-pity or excuses - unheard of! It was actually a pleasure to read and I my daydreams of a new man were quickly replaced with daydreams of a pleasant pen-pal marriage. (Yes, I'm so weird, I know.) I was almost giddy!
But there was one thing wrong with the letter. He said he didn't want to sell the house. I was totally expecting that, but it ate at me. It didn't make me feel guilty for thinking about moving. Somehow, it actually firmed my resolve not to go down with the ship. I was just thinking that I would put that in my next letter when my phone rang. A friend of mine invited me out to coffee.
This friend recently moved back to this area, where she grew up, because her husband was having an affair. We have a lot in common because we both were betrayed and suffered from our husbands' bad choices. We both showed up happy to the coffee shop, though. She told me she had just received a phone call from her husband the night before. He was crying (Crying! she emphasized) and asking her to come back. She said "maybe". I told her about my almost perfect letter. Then we started sounding off each other. I asked her if she could really trust him. I shared my doubts that a cheating man will ever change. She listened to all my options about leaving or staying and she said, "Evie, you could really be happy somewhere else. You could find love again." I wish I had said it back to her because it is true for both of us. Instead we started joking about how to properly screen a potential mate (more on that later). In the end, I think we left the coffee shop a little sobered by each other. I wonder if that's why she called me. Did she think I would understand her excitement over the phone call from her cheating husband more than her mother or sisters who are in good relationships? Did she know I would reflect my own pain back on her, reminding her why she really shouldn't go back? I wonder.
Oh yeah, when I told her about my current job search and how I was hoping I would hear from the job I'm really interested in before the job I just applied to as a back-up, she said, "I think the job you get first is the job God wants you to have." I don't usually think that way, but it sure would be nice if God would put up some big road signs.
That night, another one of my friends called totally out of the blue to tell me her man troubles. I explained my day to her and that all I would give her is negative opinions about the opposite sex. Then we moved on to financial stuff. She happens to be in the foreclosure business, so she has some ideas about houses and bankruptcy. I told her that my dad keeps suggesting bankruptcy for me and I keep ignoring him. She gave me the 411 on bankruptcy and told me that I'm a "good candidate" for it. As she talked, I thought, Is this a road sign, God? Is bankruptcy really my future? And then she also reiterated the idea that I deserve better, that I should move on, like everyone who cares about me says - except my husband.
So that brings me to the final thing. At 2:30am I wrote several pages to Jake about my anger over the massive credit card debt that I took onto my credit cards to save him from default on his own two years ago. I pointed out that he hasn't once thanked me or apologized for that gesture, as if that was just a normal task of a wife. I told him that I was considering bankruptcy and how unfair that it is me and not him since it is his debt. I told him that my credit score went from the mid-700s to the low-500s because of that, but he never asked or cared, although he was plenty concerned about his own credit score. It is all just so unfair and I feel so foolish for ever falling into it. And then I asked God to relieve me of my anger so I could sleep.
It was a weird day with so many abnormal occurrences that I feel there must have been meaning to it all. The letter, coffee, the phone call. What is the theme? What are the road signs? Leave now? File for bankruptcy? Or was it just another day in a meaningless, chaotic world?
But I came running back to tell you about my weird day yesterday.
Despite all my recent dreams about moving on in the world of relationships, I spent the last week anxiously awaiting a letter from Jake. In my last letter, I told him how scared I was about the mortgage. I told him I wouldn't stay here and let the mortgage suck me dry, no matter how much I love the house. I told him he should think about selling it and that I was packing.
Around the time I sent the letter, I told his parents something similar. Kay seems to get it and supported the idea of selling the house, but Big Rev is classically in denial. He said, "Well, I think your moving too fast on this," and "We should wait to see what happens," and even "Are you going to leave the house to go into foreclosure?" And I, in my own classic form, get riled up, snap at him that this is not my fault, and then feel guilty about it for days.
Big Rev really did work on me and made me feel guilty. I was anxious about the letter because I thought I had started a fight with Jake, like I always do with Big Rev. After all, Jake is the one that I really want to yell at.
But when I got the letter yesterday, it was so nice! It was full of suggestions for items among his belongings that I could sell. He even managed to get through the whole letter without any self-pity or excuses - unheard of! It was actually a pleasure to read and I my daydreams of a new man were quickly replaced with daydreams of a pleasant pen-pal marriage. (Yes, I'm so weird, I know.) I was almost giddy!
But there was one thing wrong with the letter. He said he didn't want to sell the house. I was totally expecting that, but it ate at me. It didn't make me feel guilty for thinking about moving. Somehow, it actually firmed my resolve not to go down with the ship. I was just thinking that I would put that in my next letter when my phone rang. A friend of mine invited me out to coffee.
This friend recently moved back to this area, where she grew up, because her husband was having an affair. We have a lot in common because we both were betrayed and suffered from our husbands' bad choices. We both showed up happy to the coffee shop, though. She told me she had just received a phone call from her husband the night before. He was crying (Crying! she emphasized) and asking her to come back. She said "maybe". I told her about my almost perfect letter. Then we started sounding off each other. I asked her if she could really trust him. I shared my doubts that a cheating man will ever change. She listened to all my options about leaving or staying and she said, "Evie, you could really be happy somewhere else. You could find love again." I wish I had said it back to her because it is true for both of us. Instead we started joking about how to properly screen a potential mate (more on that later). In the end, I think we left the coffee shop a little sobered by each other. I wonder if that's why she called me. Did she think I would understand her excitement over the phone call from her cheating husband more than her mother or sisters who are in good relationships? Did she know I would reflect my own pain back on her, reminding her why she really shouldn't go back? I wonder.
Oh yeah, when I told her about my current job search and how I was hoping I would hear from the job I'm really interested in before the job I just applied to as a back-up, she said, "I think the job you get first is the job God wants you to have." I don't usually think that way, but it sure would be nice if God would put up some big road signs.
That night, another one of my friends called totally out of the blue to tell me her man troubles. I explained my day to her and that all I would give her is negative opinions about the opposite sex. Then we moved on to financial stuff. She happens to be in the foreclosure business, so she has some ideas about houses and bankruptcy. I told her that my dad keeps suggesting bankruptcy for me and I keep ignoring him. She gave me the 411 on bankruptcy and told me that I'm a "good candidate" for it. As she talked, I thought, Is this a road sign, God? Is bankruptcy really my future? And then she also reiterated the idea that I deserve better, that I should move on, like everyone who cares about me says - except my husband.
So that brings me to the final thing. At 2:30am I wrote several pages to Jake about my anger over the massive credit card debt that I took onto my credit cards to save him from default on his own two years ago. I pointed out that he hasn't once thanked me or apologized for that gesture, as if that was just a normal task of a wife. I told him that I was considering bankruptcy and how unfair that it is me and not him since it is his debt. I told him that my credit score went from the mid-700s to the low-500s because of that, but he never asked or cared, although he was plenty concerned about his own credit score. It is all just so unfair and I feel so foolish for ever falling into it. And then I asked God to relieve me of my anger so I could sleep.
It was a weird day with so many abnormal occurrences that I feel there must have been meaning to it all. The letter, coffee, the phone call. What is the theme? What are the road signs? Leave now? File for bankruptcy? Or was it just another day in a meaningless, chaotic world?
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