Is It Real?

In a couple hours, the closing for my former “marital residence” will take place. Neither I nor my ex will be there, but the attorney’s and realtors will be there to do their thing(s). Have you ever seen a real estate sale breakdown from the seller’s perspective? This is my first time, and I have to say that everyone that can stick their hand in the pot will do so. Transfer fees, association document fee, moving deposit, taxes, mortgage pay off, two lawyer’s fees for a divorce, and I’m sure I’m missing something else… The bottom line, net proceeds from a $95,000 condo sale is $16,700. Yep, that’s it.

Some people would be thrilled with $16,700. It’s nothing to turn your nose up at, but for someone with 60+ thousand dollars in unpaid, overdue debt; it is a drop in the bucket. Enter the next attorney: round three is Chapter 7 bankruptcy. I will be filing next week. My attorney already has all my financial documentation and a blank check for filing fees and his fee. My mother will be taking a good chunk of money right away toward the new flooring we installed to make her place livable. I’ll be left with maybe $1000 in “play” money, half of which will go to pay off two small personal loans long overdue repayment to family/friend, and the other half toward a much needed trip (hopefully). The rest of it goes in the bank for a rainy day, a used car, and/or towards a down payment somewhere down the line after my credit scores come back from the dead.

After the bankruptcy is filed, a long, arduous journey toward financial stability begins. Budgeting will ensue while trying to swing earning a master’s degree, working full time, and taking care of an almost four year old. All this while nurturing a healthy, loving relationship with my partner, helping him grow, both growing in our program, and doing all this packed snuggly into my mother’s condo. Oh boy, I think I need to start thinking about healthy ways to relieve tension, as I don’t want to take it out on the people I love and feel like I already am. Perhaps I will look into a cheap gym membership down the block or at the YMCA. Although playing the guitar is a good stress reliever, I am no good at it and need to make time for lessons. Exercising is one thing I can just pick up and do anytime, and I know it will work for me as it always has.

There are not enough hours in the day to do all the things I’d like to do. I want to keep learning to play, I am learning Japanese on my breaks at work on my phone, going back to school to pursue a new career… it’s all new, crazy, scary, exciting, exhausting, and weird. So, I think something grounding (along with maintaining my recovery program) is going to be more than necessary to keep me from flying off the handle. We all need something like that to help us through awkward transitional times, in my opinion. Yet the thought of making another commitment to anything right now is exhausting. Perhaps I shall take up my yearly fall running until it gets to be too cold outside. Then I can reconsider the whole gym thing. Sure why not?

Future plans aside, living in the now, today is going to be a good day. I am taking a step toward financial security, another step away from my ex, and finishing yet another huge, difficult life change. I have a three day weekend to look forward to, I get to leave work early today, and if all goes as planned, I can rest a little easier tonight. Time will tell, but it won’t be a long wait. About 3 hours to go, and I will know my fate. Is this for real?

Life Goes On

It’s a ride, this life of mine. I am only thirty-two, but I feel as if I have lived through a lifetime of events. College, jobs, marriage, alcoholism, recovery, relapse, home ownership, car ownership, parenthood, divorce, selling real estate, bankruptcy, and now I’m moving back home with my mother. I’m finally in a healthy relationship with a real partner that I truly love, and although finances have hit the fan, the future looks bright; building from a clean slate with many lessons learned.

Last Sunday my realtor and her family came over for dinner. We all know each other and by the end of dinner, the kiddos had ripped every pillow off the bed and engaged in one epic pillow fight. This week was stressful and physically demanding due to necessary last minute home repairs and cleaning, but somehow we managed to pull it off. The condo is officially listed today, and we already have four viewings scheduled. I’m so grateful for such a wonderful realtor and new friend, as well as a super supportive partner without whom I could not have done this.

My ex is still who he was, but I’m learning to handle his behavior in a healthier way. It is nice to not constantly be at war. I would have never thought we could sort everything out like this. To be real, I am doing everything, with much help from wonderful people, and he is just not resisting and going along with it for the most part. That is the best I could have hoped for, and I’ll be satisfied with it. With the help of my sponsor, another amazing person in my life who deals with an alcoholic ex-husband, I am learning to set healthy boundaries. I’m learning how to not be surprised by his behavior, because he has always been like that. What should I expect? I am grateful for the ability to get less rattled and be far less sensitive to his provocations. Sometimes, still, I fail myself by reacting poorly, but I am doing a hell of a lot better than I used to.

Getting back into AA was awkward at first. It didn’t come with the pink cloud it did for me like the first time. I felt like I was returning the disappointment of a potential success story. I hate feeling that way. Perhaps it is a completely self inflicted perception. I wouldn’t put it past myself to dream it up, but that’s how I feel among my old friends. So, I’ll make new friends, and keep in touch with old ones. I don’t regret coming back into the program for a second. I’m just trying to find my groove in this place again. I supposed all expectations must be left at the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Beginning

Once upon a delusion, I desperately chased the “American” dream: The nuclear household with the husband working, the mother home with the kids, in some dystopian illusion from 1950. I thought that my life would be perfect only after I got a husband, got the home, and had the kids. With complete dedication to that dream and in complete denial of anything that could tarnish it; I got pretty far.

My high school was a societal bubble of very different economic, athletic and academic classes. Rich, athletic, and/or rich academic types dominated the school. Low income misfits, stoners, and goths were very few and far between. I didn’t really fit in to any group, but most glaringly not with the rich, athletic, or academic types. In high school, I never did anything impressive. I spent my time day dreaming of the perfect relationship, listening to music to drown everything else out, self-destructing in defiance and rage, or looking for someone to solve all my problems. There was so much angst and pessimism running rampant inside my head; not like in college.

College was a strange new world of seemingly limitless possibility. I found my passion for research and writing, and I was published for the first time. Finally, after relying on myself to pay for college, I graduated Manga Cum Loude with other academic honors. My future seemed bright, but it felt uncertain and terrifying.

I moved out from my childhood home, got engaged after an annoyingly long three year relationship, planned a decent wedding on a tiny budget, got married to the high school “sweet” heart I never knew I had, worked two jobs, managed to buy a small condo in a nice neighborhood, and bought the shiny new car. None of it got me to that happy dystopia I was chasing. In fact, I was completely miserable.

The relationship with my husband began to strain even before getting married. I ignored every warning sign. We fought a lot, and I hated it. After a few years of marriage, I was ready to leave. I was over the idea of having kids to fix everything, but I realize it too late. I wound up pregnant two weeks after making a firm plan to leave. I had even restarted taking my birth control. So, I stayed. Why? Because of a sworn upon promise, “the relationship [would] change. He [would] change.” He did not.

I should have left long ago. I was too busy enjoying being pregnant and learning how to care for a tiny human being. In a daze from lack of sleep, I was too drained to notice the miserable dynamics of our relationship were recurring with new gusto. We had a beautiful son. I could tune out the rest… for a while.