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As promised I'm back on February 25; my New Year.
For my birthday, my legally ex-husband gave to me the one gift I never wanted to get: Le divorce. Signed, sealed, delivered, and read on the record that we agreed to make the divorce immediate and final. Today.
I almost called this post "For My Birthday: One Wedding and its Funeral"
If you bring the sugar, I'll bring the lemons and come back later to fill in the glorious blanks. But for now, here's whatcha need to know:
The Hook is a mutherfukkin apocalyptical fart. Silent, deadly, and without a drop of passive to her aggressive. I raise my pearls to you, dear litigating badass of universal proportionality.
T Justice, The Hook's lady slayer and crowned prince of the family court rodeo, never failed me. Except when he failed to respond appropriately to my benign emails and phone calls rife with hilaria (hilarity/hysteria). If you weren't my attorney, you'd be my bro, bro.
In short, The Manny lost his ass. And his ass's ass. Word to the potentially separated: It's cheaper to keep 'er.
He told me a short time after I left him last spring that his job is more important than his marriage. Which is ironic, because he's married to that job now for a long effing time. And that's about all he's got to show for 10 years of some good love that could have lasted forever.
The settlement was read on the court's record and the divorce was finalized as of today. A birthday of sorts, indeed.
I'm off to fetch the skittles and revise my Happy Birthday sign into a Happy Divorce sign in time for cocktails at Tapalaya.
I have to admit, although I got vindication on just about every point in question, there are no winners here. Only a family that lost everything over nothing but one man's refusal to try to save it all. In my heart, there is nothing happy at all about this divorce. Period.
I am pleased to have some closure, some decision making power for myself and the kiddoos, and a whole life ahead of me to right my cookie cart and get back to what I know best, which is myself.
Fist bumps, team. I'm just hoping it's a fairy with butterfly wings that busts out of this cocoon. It feels like it could break open any minute, but I'm afraid of what's left inside now that it's all over.
I'll take my tragic lemonade with a shot of vodka tonight -- the good stuff. Finally I can afford it.
Big ups to the crew at SKJH, my mother who's been here all week and will finally get some restitution of her own, and all the loves around this globe who sent it my way in the form of vibes, emails, gifts to the kids, and hugs full of hope. It worked.
FKNA, you guys.
Twist one up and hand it over here.
I gots a light.