It’s The Anniversary Of My Divorce!

I was on the phone with Uju a few days ago, and we were discussing something when I mentioned that it was almost a year since my divorce became final. And then it occurred to me that my divorce was final in October 2019 and we were now in October 2020. So that was when I looked through my 2019 calendar and lo and behold, the anniversary of my divorce was in 24 hours! – Saturday, October 24th, 2020. Let me tell you about this day, one year ago.

On Wednesday, October 23rd, 2019, I was at work when I saw the email from my attorney’s office telling me that it was time to pay a few more thousands of dollars. I locked my screen, got up, and went to the bathroom where I sat on the toilet and cried. It was difficult enough to be starting life afresh, but now I was also having to pay out thousands of dollars to gain my freedom — while solely being responsible for my child. It was all on me – physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, financially – all on me. So I desperately needed that cry in the bathroom. When I knew that no one was in the other stalls, I cried out loud, wailed, agonized. Then when someone stepped in, I kept quiet and let the tears stream down quietly.

When I was all cried out, I dabbed the tears on my face with some tissue and came out of the stall. I inspected myself in the mirror, adjusted my hair, practiced smiling through my pain, washed my hands, and went back to my cubicle where I opened the email again and studied the invoice of how the thousands I already paid had been spent, and then, I followed the link to make another payment.

The following day, Thursday, October 24th, 2020, we had to be in court at 3:00 PM for the Accessor hearing. The purpose of this hearing was to find out how the agreed-upon visitation schedule was working out so far and if it needed to be amended. The visitation schedule at that time was for The Boy to see Ada Verastic, our then-four-year-old daughter, every other Saturday for two hours (10:00 AM to 12:00 PM) in a supervised facility (supervised by social workers). By the way, taking my child to a supervised facility to see her biological father was traumatizing. I could not believe that that was my life. But I digress.

On that day, the 24th of October, I had prayed for favor. I was not planning on asking for anything to be done differently with the visitation, but I hoped that the Judge wouldn’t suggest we increase the visitation hours, or worse, cancel the supervision. The reason the court granted my request to have supervised visits was that The Boy had not seen Ada Verastic for almost a year, and in spite of his claim that I was keeping her away from him, there was more than enough evidence to prove otherwise. Although my attorney had reassured me several times that it was unlikely for the Judge to change anything, I still worried.

In court, I looked great, if I do say so myself. Eyebrows were on point. Makeup was done. I had on a fitted pair of navy blue pants, a lace long-sleeve navy blue top, and a pair of bright pink pumps with 2.5-inch heels. So, yes, on the outside, I was that bitch. On the inside, however, I was curled up in the fetal position, hiding somewhere, biting my fingers and worrying about the worst-case scenario.

In court, before our case was called, my attorney decided to show her prowess. She would take him to a corner and talk to him, then come back and talk to me. Back and forth, she talked to us, one at a time, never both together, trying to negotiate a permanent custody arrangement and divorce settlement. She handed me a document she had drafted and told me that if we both signed it that day, our divorce would be final. The document was about 15 pages long. I sat on the bench outside the courtroom and read every word in that document while the thought of my divorce being over that day pumped a copious amount of adrenaline into my system. The Boy had no attorney, and I suppose he forgot that my attorney was not there to benefit him, that she was there to make sure her client won. And boy, did she!

I don’t know how my attorney did it, but she got The Boy to waive his rights to my assets and give me the full parental rights I desperately wanted. I also had to agree to waive my rights to his assets, but The Boy was broke and unemployed and had no assets – real or imagined. Therefore, I was waiving my rights to being broke. I, on the other hand, had a lot to lose. And that, my people, was how we signed the papers and my divorce was final.

When it was done, I kept asking my attorney if it was really over, and if I was really divorced, and if I really never had to come back to court for a divorce hearing. The answer was YES. YES. YES. I gave her a huge hug and couldn’t stop smiling with all my teeth. It was really over. I was liberated and vindicated.

I started my divorce proceedings in February of 2019, and I had already been told that it would take about a year and half – or longer, especially since we were not agreeing on the custody arrangement, so my anticipated end date was around August 2020. Instead, my divorce was final in 8 months (and 10 months ahead of schedule)!

That night, I did not sleep. It was not the lack of peace or the presence of stress that tormented me, but joy. My body did not know what to do with all the endorphins that were swimming inside of it. I tossed and turned the whole night. When I went to work the next day, albeit my bright red eyes, I couldn’t even pretend not to be happy. I was bursting with joy.  My coworker noticed as soon as I walked in that I was off-the-charts happy, and when he asked me, I barely let him finish the sentence before I screamed, “My divorce is final!”

I had an elaborate plan for my divorce. I was going to do a photoshoot, and I was going to be dressed in all white, and the photoshoot was going to happen in front of the courthouse, and I was going to have my makeup professionally done. But I thought I had time. I thought I had 10 months left. Maybe one day I’ll follow through with the photoshoot (although I seriously doubt it), but for now, I dragged Toby to take some definitely-not-professional pictures of me on the deck in my definitely-not-professional makeup because hey, it is the anniversary of my divorce.

I still don’t know why this had to be my story. I still don’t know why I did not know that The Boy was capable of the things he did, and why I had to go through such a painful betrayal from him. But I do know that every single thing he did has made me a better and stronger person, and since sharing the story of how my marriage ended, so many people have reached out to me about their own situations. In fact, because I shared my story, one Sweet Potato reached out to me and finally got the courage to file for divorce. We have stayed in contact since she began the process, and her divorce just became final.  I could not be prouder. Congratulations again, Babe. Indeed, sometimes, God gives us mountains to show others that it can be moved.

I don’t know all the reasons (or even any of the reasons) why this had to be my marriage, but I’m pretty sure that one of the reasons is for me to just be meeting fine, fine boys up and down the place. And who am I to complain of God’s blessings? The Lord truly works in mysterious ways.

So, yes, Sweet Potatoes, please join me in celebrating my divorcesary, the anniversary of my divorce.  God has been so good to me. He is a good, good Father. I am so grateful for the wisdom and strength to walk away. I can’t imagine where I would have been today if I had not walked away. Whew! I cannot believe that it is really the anniversary of my divorce — already!

P.S. I absolutely love the picture above. I just wish Toby didn’t cut my feet off, especially after I said over and over, “Do not cut my feet off! The picture will look weird with no feet.” And what did the boy do? He cut my feet off. And I’m now suspecting he did it on purpose because he said, “You’re so worried about your feet. Who are you trying to impress?” What a question! All this time I’ve been shouting upandan that I’m looking for twin boys, how does he think I’ll make them happen? So, here I am, feetless, but still cute and still looking for confusingly-identical twin boys.

P.P.S. I have a series on this blog about how my marriage ended and/or events related to how my marriage ended, including, of course, the full story about how my marriage ended and all the drama that followed. Please click here to read the series.

P.P.P.S. Have you been listening to the I Am African podcast? Allow me to toot my own horns and tell you that it is an absolutely great podcast!