The ending of my marriage was everything bad about divorce. Police. Custody battles. Family members picking sides. Just a damn mess. I went to my parent’s house and he and our daughter moved in with his sister. It made sense because my daughter’s school was in that area, and we wanted to maintain as much stability in her life as possible.
I was just as much afraid as I was excited to finally get out. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I wanted our split to be amicable. I was raised by my father and stepmother, and saw first-hand that you can find peace and happiness after a failed marriage. So, having been a child of divorce, I decided to just… not. I was not going to argue, fuss and fight. I wasn’t gonna become lowdown and dirty. I just wasn’t going to make our lives any more miserable than they’d already become because I believed it didn’t have to be that way. We are educated adults with common sense and options. This is just an unfortunate situation that nobody wants, and we just have to be strong and move forward. Well… THAT mofo didn’t get the memo.
I missed the first court date because I was out of the country and never got served. I didn’t even know he had taken me to court until, upon my return, I went to his sister’s house to pick up my daughter. He called the police on me. That’s how I find out he had not only gone to court but had filed for, and won, full parental custody. He claimed I abandoned them and the judge, seeing that I was unresponsive and absent, gave him everything… except an actual divorce. It turned out the judge was unmarried and childless. Why is she even presiding over family law?! Needless to say, the battle was up a steep hill, and I was already beaten. Or, so he thought.
Divorced, one kid