Divorce Salad

I met with Carol (my lawyer) yesterday.  I really like her.  I don’t have much of a basis for comparison, having never hired one before, but I do really like her.

Anyway, we talked about lots of things, primarily custody and alimony.  While Seth is a raging bonehead when it comes to thinking below the belt, he’s actually incredibly reasonable and agreeable when it comes to practical things.  Money and Emma.  (I’m trying not to call her a baby, because she’s not technically a baby anymore)

So, we’d worked out a ton on our own.  Setting up a schedule, and financial support from him.  Which Carol said was far more generous than I’d have gotten from the court.  So now she’s started drafting papers, which should be done in about a week and a half.  We’ll still have room to adjust things, but once that’s settled, we sign, and after the waiting period will be divorced.

Holy shit, I’m getting divorced.

After I met with Carol, there were a few particulars I wanted to hammer out with Seth.  So I invited him to lunch.  I sat there, eating my salad, as we discussed things like vacations with our girl, financial details, and so on.  About halfway through the salad my emotions got the better of me, and I couldn’t eat anymore.

So my divorce salad is now sitting in my refrigerator, and I don’t think I can bring myself to eat it.

The other thing is, now the clock is ticking (or once it’s finalized) on how long I can expect support from him.  Which means the clock is ticking on getting myself on my feet, financially.  Guess I’d better get my ass to class.

Oh, and I have an appointment with Sid tonight.  We started talking, or I started telling my story at least, about my birth trauma.  So he wanted me to draft up a timeline, and he’s going to record my narrative.  Then I get to listen to it myself.  I’ve read enough about PTSD, I get to listen to my own story over and over again so I get desensitized to it.

But that means sitting there, in front of a cute boy, spilling my guts about the whole timeline.  Fertility treatments, looking into adoption, the sordid series of events that led to (what we assume was) her conception.  A difficult pregnancy, and the birth itself was, well, very traumatic.  Let’s just say there were at least 2 incidents that I could sue the hospital over.  Oh!  And then getting readmitted 2 1/2 months later for an abscess as a complication from the Cesarean?  TWICE when they didn’t nuke the thing the first time?  Yeah.  That was pretty awful.

Oh yeah, and part of the trauma was discovering my husband’s sex addiction halfway through pregnancy.

I’m also torn, because I want to do this, I want to go through my narrative… but I feel like it will take up the entire 50 minutes (if not more).  And there are so many other things I want to talk about!

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