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A Walk in the Mud

A Walk in the Mud (Photo credit: Viewminder)

The last five days have been a frenzy of divorce-related legal crap.  Voldemort’s financial disclosures were a month late, full of falsehoods and inconsistencies, with pages missing, and we had a settlement meeting scheduled for Tuesday.

I freaked.

Then I sat down with my laptop, went through the effed up papers, line by line, essentially writing a brief for my attorney.  She called as soon as the email hit her inbox and we scheduled a meeting for Monday.

When I showed up, it was clear she hadn’t read the papers and wasn’t the least bit concerned by Voldemort’s lies.  Inside I started to quake.  I was utterly terrified that I’d hired a complete incompetent for my divorce representation.  The law office staff kept telling me to calm down; all we had to do the next day was listen and see where Voldemort’s head was at.  (Up his a** was my opinion.)

We kept the settlement meeting on Tuesday and I was an even bigger mess.  My attorney took Mr. Men’s Rights lawyer into an empty office and I could hear her start by saying that she didn’t have much hope for a settlement because his client had lied on the disclosures and I was extremely upset.  Mr. Men’s Rights lawyer took Voldemort into the empty office for a private pow-wow.

I don’t know what was said, but the settlement meeting lasted an hour and he agreed to everything I had requested (with a couple of notable exceptions left undecided for now).

A couple of times Mr. Men’s Rights lawyer bullied me and I verbally popped him right back.  Once, he castigated me for allowing kid #2 to manipulate me with my fear that she’d attempt suicide again.

My whole body began to shake and I burst into tears.  My lawyers lit into him and he shut the hell up.  A**hat.  I still have the mental picture of my daughter on that gurney in the ER last year.  I remember thinking, “She’s going to die.”  How dare he act like that’s not a valid fear for me to have?  How dare he?

There was no discussion of me owing Voldemort any money, much less the $100,000 he claimed in his paperwork.  All the drama and angst seems to have been for nothing.

But I can’t relax.  I’m waiting for the other s**t-filled shoe to drop.  After 25 years with a man who didn’t keep his promises, I won’t relax until everything’s signed and filed and official.

For now, it’s over.  Aside from getting the family home listed for sale, nothing is going to happen over the next couple of weeks.  I’m looking forward to a little break.  And I now have faith in my attorney.  She absolutely had my back.  Oh, and she’s writing the Marital Settlement Agreement, not Mr. Men’s Rights lawyer.

Whew.

 

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