Keep the ring! Wear it, don't wear it. But for God's sake, keep the ring! Sell it, have it made into a necklace.
Was your ring important to you? What does a wedding ring mean? You belong to someone? Wait, that would make it more like a dog collar and a rabies license wouldn't it? If lost, please return to Mr. so-and-so at such-and-such address.
Okay, now I may just puke. Did I say keep the ring?
But, you can throw away reminders, photos, papers. I tossed and burned those, too. It made me feel good. It was like shaking off the last really awful memories of a very painful and disappointing marriage. I was glad I did that.
Of course, what about the photos with your ex and your children? What's that old saying, oh yeah, "that's like throwing out the baby with the bathwater." Yeah, I held on to those photos. It used to hurt to look at them. It doesn't anymore.
When you can look at the photos or the items that came into your life while you were married without feeling pain or sorrow or regret, you are healed.
I don't seem to care about anything related to that part of my life anymore. I am moving forward and onward and upward. I am no longer "anyone's" possession.
Nobody owns me. I am my own person. I am free.
And, my fellow FWW visitors and bloggers .... me likey, me likey a whole lot!
No one to judge me. No one to bitch because there isn't any tea made. No one to expect, demand, blame, cage.
read more »In case you haven't heard, crying during an interview is considered bad form. There I was being interviewed by one of those deadly women in their late forties — beautiful body and face, $500 suit, $300 shoes, a real ball-buster and the General Sales Manager of almost 40 television sales reps.
Now, granted, I'm not beautiful (uh, by traditional standards I mean), but I can hold my own, and that day I dressed to perfection. I wore my most expensive gray silk and very hip pants suit with my dyed red snake skin four inch heels (tough to walk in I can tell you!) finished off with a matching bag and my day timer. Oh, yeah, I was poised to bust a few balls myself.
As I sat in the interview, and keeping in mind that there probably isn't a person on earth who has had more job interviews in one lifetime than me, I knew I was scoring big time. I aced every question. My body language was impeccable. Hey, if you change jobs as often as I've been known to do, you can't help but improve your interviewing skills.
Lisa gave no indication of being a warm, touchy, feely person. She was balls to the walls success and all business. She fired the questions. I volleyed the answers. It was going perfectly. I knew she would offer the job to me.
And just as I was internally figuring out what sort of base and commission structure I should plan on asking for, BAM! She hit me with the oh-so-wrong question of, "I guess it's been a little tough with the divorce and Hurricane Katrina..."
read more »Since the divorce, Stinky likes to make a trip once a year up here to show his gracious generosity by using his credit card to purchase socks, underwear, shoes, and school supplies for his son and daughter. He will not pay one red cent in child support throughout the year, but in August he gets to come up here and play hero for the day. Last year, I did something I never thought I would do - I took advantage of his credit at a major department store. See, since he was with me, but hated to shop, we just filled out the credit card form right then and there and the lovely clerk gave me a slip of paper to use until his card arrived in the mail.
Did I mention that Stinky is a little on the ignorant side? I think he just doesn't care enough to pay attention sometimes. If it isn't something he is interested in, he ignores it. Shopping is one of those things.
The following week, and after he'd left town, my daughter had decided she didn't exactly like a particular outfit and Joseph still did not have his much-needed shoes. So, I did the unthinkable, but, trust me, I did a whole lot of thinking before I promptly marched myself up to the department store and exchanged the one outfit for three more, bought my son's shoes and a couple of more shirts and bought myself a few things, too, using that little slip of paper. After all, the last name on the card was "Woodard," and I still use that as my legal name (for the kids' sake).
read more »Let me tell you something. When you're divorcing an abusive maniac, you don't think about your financial investments. I know. I know. I should have. But I just wanted out and the best way to accomplish that at the moment was to give him everything. He's one greedy guy.
However, in the divorce agreement that his lawyer drew up there was absolutely nothing stipulating that he had to pay, well, anything. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
Naturally, the judge threw that out and warned the attorney to come back with a plan for child support or she'd do it herself. (Frankly, I think Stinky's lawyer was just making sure she had another reason to bill him another grand.)
When all was said and done, the agreement stipulated that Stinky pay for my car (roughly $380) and that he pay the car insurance of about $50 a month and give me a check or cash for another $300. The sum total for two children was $750 a month. Don't do this.
Enforcing this kind of discombobulated agreement is nearly impossible. And, once the car is paid for you have to coax your ex to turn the title over to you, not an easy task with Stinky, as it seemed the car was the one thing that he still held over me. With Stinky it was always about control.
And, if you happen to live in another state, as I do, and you're driving around with an expired Mississippi tag because you cannot get a Tennessee tag unless the car is in your name, and if you find yourself sitting at a red light with a motorcycle cop on your tail, chances are very good you will be pulled over.
Up until that day, you should have seen the ways I managed to avoid ever being in front of a squad car — takes some real talent if you don't want to break the law.
read more »Let me tell you something. If you make a really horrible mistake, and try to re-kindle for the children's sake, and you move back in with your ex after you've divorced, it's best to not combine your finances this go round. And if, in the process of the rekindling, you both decide to buy property, best make sure it gets put in your name, too.
Of course these are very big words coming from a woman who simply said, "Sure, you can have complete control of the money," and "No, I don't mind if you spend the money I make buying and paying for property that you put only in your name. I trust you." Gag!
So, you see, what you have here is a woman who totally did all the wrong things yet somehow managed to move through them and eventually come out on the other side in tact, relatively speaking.
After the divorce, my credit had gone straight to the toilet. The question wasn't, What's my credit score? The question was, Can you have a credit score in the negative? But the first year I was back with Stinky, I made almost $80,000, and in south Mississippi, I can tell you that's a good bit of money. And I gave it all to him because, as I mentioned earlier, I was an idiot. So we bought the land with my good money and his good credit.
When I left him that final time, I was in a bit of hurry, as all women leaving abusive men usually are, and I took only what I needed to survive: my children and our clothes, my hardback books and my favorite cookware. If you have clean underwear, a pan and a spoon, you're good to go.
Still, after a month or two, I knew that I had to return to the "scene of the crime" and retrieve some of my other things that I could have lived without but didn't want to.
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