Two Years Divorced

Two years ago today my kids and I were in Virginia with the mobster and his kids. I was out with him on his route when I got the call from my lawyer’s assistant letting me know I was no longer married to Jerry Lee. Hip hip hooray! The divorce papers had actually been signed the day before. December 28th, 2017 I became a divorced woman.

I was 48 years old, 2 months away from my 49th birthday, almost down to the exact day. I had been working at the bank for almost a year. I was finally up to a whooping eleven dollars and fifty cents an hour. Days prior to this I had received my first alimony check and my daughter had received her father’s poor-pitiful-me text, letting her know she should have a great Christmas because he had just paid alimony and child support and he would be paying me over $4600 a month for the rest of his life. He also took the time to tell her that I was every bit as bad as he was because the mobster wasn’t divorced and he hadn’t even filed yet! Plus, he was abusive. He knows that for a fact because he got it straight from his not-quite-the-ex- a lying, pill popping alcoholic who cheated on the mobster and left him for another man- the one with whom she promptly moved in after vacating the family home.

It’s been two years since that phone call. Not much has changed. I don’t have some fantastic career. I haven’t received an amazing promotion. I haven’t bought a cute house. I haven’t gone back to school (not that my original college degree has done much for me). I haven’t traveled to exotic locales or taken any kind of vacation with my kids in ages. The closest I’ve come to vacationing with my kids is going out to Utah for 4 days for a wedding eighteen months ago.

I still live with my mom. She does my laundry and most of the cooking. I suppose that’s a perk of living at home. It somewhat offsets the fact I have no actual room of my own, no place to put my own stuff. My polar bear collection continues to collect dust and will probably never see the light of day again. The thousands I spent on photography for my babies are tucked away under Picasso’s bed. I should just throw them away because I never see them and they’ll never grace my walls again.

I still sleep on the couch. Now that Rock Star is away at school I sleep in her bed when she’s gone and only have to sleep on the couch from May-August and on school breaks. That’s a turnaround from when I only had a bed to sleep in from January-March when my mom was in Florida.

I’m now making a huge impressive fourteen dollars and seventy-five cents an hour! That translates into an equally impressive $30,680/year. Of course, I’m also paying out over $200 a paycheck for insurance so I’m actually bringing home less than I was 2 years ago.

I was curious so I googled, “What percentage of the U.S. population makes $30k a year? Turns out I’m decidedly lower middle class now. I’m not even middle class anymore. I make less than half of the median household income. I’m in the bottom 25% of all households in the United States. I used to be in the top 8.5%. Only 19% of the population in my country makes less than me. Of course good ol’ Jerry Lee is right back up there. Between him and the whore they’re bringing home around $200k. Good to see shit floats upward.

To be fair though, that amount does not include any of the spousal or child support I receive. When you include that in I’m probably more in the $60-$70k per year range. Of course, that also changes depending on Jerry Lee’s mood. He pays what he wants, when he wants. I don’t feel comfortable basing any life decisions upon what he’s supposed to be paying me because he so rarely does what he’s supposed to do.

As far as Jerry Lee paying me almost five grand a month for the rest of his life… well, as you all know that ended six short months later and remains a legal headache to this day. He couldn’t slash child support in half fast enough, even if he wasn’t legally allowed to do so! He was so successful at doing whatever he wanted that he slashed spousal support this year.

That’s right. I got one full year (plus two months) of spousal support before Jerry Lee decided that was too much money and modified it on his own. It’s almost a year later and I’m still trying to rectify the situation. Currently he’s shorted me almost $11,000 this year.

I’m also still trying to collect the $25k in legal fees he owes me. Waiting to hear back from my lawyer. Supposedly they had a docket hearing on the 18th of December. I’m thinking my case didn’t get put on the docket because I can’t imagine I have a court date and they haven’t bothered to let me know.

I’m still with the mobster. He’s the one bright spot in all of this. For some odd reason he thinks I’m amazing. He makes me laugh. We meet up in exotic towns in Ohio. That’s a lie. There are no exotic towns in Ohio. Yet, we still manage to have fun when we’re together. He’s supportive and kind. He loves me. God only knows why. He’s still not divorced although he has definitely filed. She’s still crazy. And greedy.

To sum up, year two as a divorced woman is no different than year one. Only more hassles with the asshole I divorced. Hopefully 2020 will see him in a courtroom several times. I’m crossing my fingers that he will be ordered to pay me the 25k finally and that he will finally be garnished and won’t get away with his bullshit he’s pulled since June 2018.

2 thoughts on “Two Years Divorced

  1. Um. One: you will hang your art and place your collectibles in a place of pride again. And even if you don’t, you know that you are in a better place couch surfing and hanging with your mom than with that asshole. When I was with the man I married, before I knew he was a lying cad, we lived with his parents one year because his mom was doing chemo and his dad worked at a chemical plant so he was away long times and she needed company and also someone to take care of a bit. Because it kept her mind off the cancer.
    In that year she and I were very close. We did things together and learned a lot about one another and she was very much a mom to me not just a mom in law. Living in the same house as your mother may not seem like a blessing but when she is gone, I bet you will look back on some of your shared experiences and times and be really charmed and warmed by having that time with her. I know that I still look on my ma fondly and thank god she died in a freak stumble and brain bleed in a restaurant parking lot before I publicly left her son. Talking to her about it and not just saying ‘I have to leave because he’s a cheating asshole and I know that your husband probably cheats on you and I’m pretty sure you know it too, but I’m not you. I love you but I can’t stay’ would have been absolutely crushing. Living through her death as part of the family, knowing that I was a piece of property to her son was terrible. Knowing that we may not make it (I hadn’t totally decided then) while putting together a scrapbook of her life history, picking up her ashes and the memorial documents and whatnot from the funeral home, being there at her funeral and sitting with my niece on my lap and crying when my dad went up to say something…. holy crap. It was gutting. But I’m happy I got to see her to the end. I’m glad she didn’t know because I made her hope her son was ok. I really love the time I had with her. And she’s just my mom in law.

    Right now you’re stuck, and it sucks. But in a few years things will be even better. Mobster and you will figure it out, kids will all be in college or whatnot, mom May find a shelf for some picture or a bear, to share. It’s not totally sad. It’s way better than a fake life.

    Liked by 2 people

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