I had a teleconference meeting at my attorney's office this afternoon. It is really and truly so difficult to trust anyone, for anything. I am working on that as hard and fast as I can, but, you know, the old limbic system continues to struggle. I can hardly blame it, truth be told.
So, anyway, I got there early, paid my most recent bill and waited until the guy from the investment fund(s) called. The gave me a soft drink today. Certainly getting my money's worth there. That is only partly a joke, as given how amazingly and stunningly jerkified my ex is, was, always was, will ever be, my attorney and her legal assistant have done as much for me as, I guess, it is possible to do, factoring out that whole losing me for a couple of months. Water under some bridge, somewhere.
The conversation with that guy was fine, mostly because I quickly understood that he wanted this conversation because he believed that I had not understood some of the similar conversation more than three months ago, and that I was trying to conserve as much of the funds as possible and might not be drawing as much as I should from said fund.
Except, the chances that I will receive anything, any portion of whatever is left in those funds by my ex are so small that it can be seen only with an electron microscope. Thank goodness I found one to rent from the party rental store.
If anything remains, the investment guy is ready to go with transferring half of what is in those accounts. I signed the paperwork directly after that first conversation in January.
You know, I left that marriage grateful to have my life and the clothes on my back...literally. All I wanted was out, but my attorney insisted that my ex would be compelled to do the right thing. The assistant mentioned that again today and I asked her to think of one time when he has done that. She started to speak, paused and then shook her head and looked away from me. They all feel badly for me, I get that. They are trying to get my ex to sign new paperwork that would reinforce the original court decrees, and I just do not think that will happen. Everyone keeps telling me that this will work and that things will work out.
I wish that I had insisted on not having anything from that marriage. I wish that I had found the strength to just go through the process, sign papers and never have any thing or thought or quasi-contact with him again. I would still not have anything, but I would have avoided all this time of doing and going and filing and waiting and hoping and being disappointed and being threatened and paying and paying and paying in too many heartbreaking ways.
That would have been a kind of freedom. Now I am stuck following through on this. There were so many times during all of these months when I had to assess the cost/benefit ratios. Each time I felt hope growing in me and I went with whatever anyone wanted me to do. Now, after this meeting today, I am supposed to have hope again, and fuck it all, I do. Damn me. That guy was so convincing and supportive and I bought right into the myth again. Fuck me.
Nearly everything from the house proceeds is gone, and apparently there is no learning opportunity too expensive for me. Nope, not passing up any of them. Lordy. And, I am trying so hard to not feel bitter. I am not angry or even upset that they have failed so many times in trying to force him to comply. Even his own attorney cannot get him to do that.
These bitter feelings come from the same old process: I am supposed to accept whatever scraps are offered to me and I am expected to be crazy grateful and never feel, much less express, any discomfort or problems with always having next to nothing.
So, I did what I usually do when the sadness and all that jazz rolls in, I went grocery shopping. I controlled myself and got salad stuff, mayo to make macaroni salad for lunches this week, a piece of beef for dinner tonight and two of the smallest turkey wings I have ever seen for dinner tomorrow.
I am feeling better already, and I have not started cooking yet. Kind of regretting not getting any chips and dip, or cookies, even better, cake. I used to love pie, any type or flavor of pie, but now I desire cake, chocolate (especially if it is double/triple/gazillion times), but I will eat just about anything even remotely resembling cake. Like scones or bear claws. Oh, besides chocolate, my other second favorite is those rolled cake rolls made with ubu that they sell at the Asian market.
All in all, I have managed the day well. Mondays are the end of my weekend and I am not supposed to get dressed, much less go anywhere. My utility bill arrived yesterday and was one-third less than last month's, so, in an effort to mood alter, I took some of the money I had put aside for the utility bill and had my hair cut before the appointment.
Too long hair, angst and a little hope, all gone. In their place, well, we have me, or I have me. Stronger. Less easily rattled or discouraged. I even managed a joke during the teleconference, when the guy asked me if I had any more questions (after apparently asking some good ones, go figure that one), and I thanked him and told him that given the past difficulties, that we would be having this same conversation next year.
Fortunately, he got the joke and laughed harder than I did, and I laughed mightily. It felt strong to find this humorous. And, now I am at home, not upset, not weepy or frightened or shame spiraling.
It is like I am able to manifest the life I want, the one for which I have been working. There are so many times when I thought that I would not make it, and yet, here I am. All of my hard work, the therapy, the support groups are working, and, without cake. Who woulda thunk it.