I immediately contacted a lawyer.
I explained to her my situation. I wasn’t able to afford a long, drawn-out divorce battle, and my in-laws were holding the Quitclaim Deed hostage. My husband and I had nothing to fight over, really, but his parents’ cruel and intrusive involvement was making things far messier than they needed to be.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. California is a no-fault state as far as divorces go, so I really couldn’t plead with the judge for some favoritism. I had to re-focus on moving forward with the paperwork, and accept the fact that I’d have to split everything 50/50. I was doing all the work, and even helping my husband along, just to get the damn thing done. I knew, deep down, he would do nothing.
After all, he was out of the country. Per usual.
The lawyer gave me sound advice, and, for a nominal retainer, helped guide me through the paperwork. It would take about six months for the whole thing to go through, provided my husband’s cooperation. There might still be a way for me to keep my house, but the lawyer posed an interesting question.
“Do you really want the responsibility of a house at this time in your life?”
I didn’t know. I just didn’t want to lose everything. To me, the house was a symbol of maturity; adulthood. It meant I was responsible. I loved my home, and I wanted the safety and security that accompanied it.
For the next month or so, my journal entries were full of anxiety and confusion. I had re-entered my social life, and it was met with enthusiasm, support and encouragement. It felt good to return to some sense of “normalcy”, yet the old life was still hanging on. I had random bouts of grief, where I felt crazy, inconsolable and out of control. I had random crushes on men, all of which I knew were futile to pursue or entertain. I wasn’t ready to move forward in that area of my life, at all.
I wrote out my crazy.
Feeling extremely lonely. Sad. Vulnerable. Frustrated. Wishing my husband would email me and just BE A MAN. Seriously. Wishing a man would take me in his arms and love me.
Why can’t anyone love me? Oh, my heart, my heart longs for love, my heart longs for someone who loves You, who will love me. God, forgive me for being impatient. There’s my husband, whom I still love. Or do I? Do I love him?
All of this distraction and I’m not focusing on my divorce. It’s hard to let go of the life that I loved with my husband. I loved my life with him. I don’t know how to wrap it all up – not sure what was right and was truly was wrong. I am so easily distracted and disappointed in myself.
I know I have to heal. And I cannot hurry anything up. Patience, not immediacy.
I pray about the divorce and the next step I’m supposed to take. Oh, LORD, it’s terrifying and I feel paralyzed. I want to go back to a month ago where everything was clear, where I trusted You 100%. It was just You and me, God. And it still is, but I’m getting foolish…I feel like crying, I feel like being bad, I feel like I want to crawl under the covers and sleep for a week.
I’m so real and raw it’s scary.
And then, out of the blue on a typical June Gloom day, I received an email from my husband. It was simple. He hated being divorced from me.
Little did I know, he was a newly engaged man.