Before every court date in this divorce, I am completely taken over by some level or stress, rage, fear, depression, anxiety, etc. I imagine it as this giant shadowy arm and hand, reaching up from the ground. Slowly wrapping long, dark fingers around my throat. I’m not so much completely choked as I am lifted off the ground slightly, struggling to find a footing.
I have no control over the situation. Our lovely legal system proceeds without me even being present, and anything can happen. Often times, someone doesn’t show up and nothing happens. Other times, the course of the divorce is drastically effected. I’ve been through it enough times (it has been almost a year now) to know not to struggle too hard. It does no good. My feet will still be dangling just above the ground, and I am unable to find relief.
I have stopped asking why. I do my best to not get angry about it. I am literally just holding on for dear life, hoping it will all be over somewhat soon. I’m so tired of this. Just fucking end this! I no longer want to be married, have made every single concession I can regarding our son, and I’m not fighting for anything except for my own safety. If I can help it, I will NEVER be in the same room as you again for the rest of my life.
The demon that holds my throat is nothing in comparison to the agony I have endured by you. No, I am not faultless. I have caused damage. But I have learned, grown, and accepted responsibility for my part. This is something you are fundamentally incapable of doing. You are dangerous to everyone around you. I fear for our son when he is around you. I pity those that enter your arena unknowingly. I see you for what you really are, and the image is truly ugly and terrifying.
Legally, none of that matters. Legally, there is only black and white, and you don’t show your darkness enough to be seen for what you really are.
So I dangle. All rise…