Wanna hear something hilarious? Only it’s really not.

I’m not divorced. No, really, you read that right: I’m not yet divorced.

As my friend said: “This is like the marriage that WILL NOT end!”

The day of the hearing my lawyer did not have the correct permanent parenting plan submitted to the courts. This means that (1) he, again, did not do what he’s been paid to do, especially since that parenting plan was revised for the last time in JANUARY and (2) he would have to get the paperwork submitted to the courts in order for the chancellor to make a judgment regarding my proposed visitation schedule (which is no schedule for visitations). If he grants my request, that means child support would also changed as it’s based on the number of days allotted to each parent for visitation. (Since he doesn’t visit anyway when he’s more than welcome – and even asked and invited – to, why give him certain days and weeks for visitation, thus lowering his financial obligations to the children?)

On June 23 my lawyer told the chancellor and I that he would get the paperwork submitted as soon as possible. The chancellor granted an absolute divorce based on the grounds of inappropriate marital conduct. When my lawyer joined my dad and I in the lobby after his other client was divorced, I asked him flat-out, “I’m divorced, right?”

He stuttered, but said yes. I was divorced. And I was thrilled.

Wednesday morning I had a meeting in the court complex, as I do every week, and decided to stop by and ask the chancery court clerk if any decision had been made. And one hasn’t. That paperwork that was supposed to be submitted ASAP? Has not been submitted.

I jokingly asked, “So I guess I’m really not divorced then, right?” Ha ha. “If I wanted to get married today, I couldn’t?!”

“Nope, you’re not.” She launches into legal explanations and I hear something about a final decree and why there was none. Basically: my lawyer is a douche bag (see definition 5). (Sorry for the language Grannie, but that’s putting it nicely. I have more colorful words, but I’ll keep those to myself.)

I really think there is some sort of conspiracy involving my lawyer, my husband (oh my hell, I hate saying that again) and … well, the entire world. It’s like in the movies – I just cannot kill this marriage and bury it, it keeps coming back from the end, taunting me. “Ha ha! You aren’t divorced!”

It’s really frustrating. I didn’t know that vowing to love him ’til death do we part’ was going to be taken so seriously. (I mean, really, vows are actually taken seriously these days?)

And I haven’t told him yet. That he’s still my husband. And I’m still his wife.

Maybe by the time our sixth anniversary rolls around next May we’ll have resolved this. Because the only other thing I can think of is getting back together with him. Why not? He got the seven-year itch at year one … it should be smooth sailing from here on out, right?

Hanson told me last week that my life is like a soap opera. I’m beginning to think he’s right.

Five years, one month and one day ago I became someone’s wife. At the time we entered into that spiritual and legal contract that bound our hearts and souls together, we didn’t understand the full scope of what we were doing.

Like many brides-to-be, I planned a wedding, not a marriage. I bought an expensive dress and made favors. I chose flowers and colors and a location. I carefully chose the wording for our invitations, printed them and mailed them off. I registered for plenty of gifts. I counted down the days, packed boxes, finished up my last semester at community college and discovered two lines on a pregnancy test. Somewhere in the process of getting engaged and having a baby and getting married, we lost what was really important. And we never really found it.

It’s true that we never had a fairy tale relationship. Or maybe it was a fairy tale in the scope that it wasn’t a real relationship. It did not represent reality, the real world, but rather a nightmare of a union that should have ended long before it ever began.

Two years and nine months ago, that nightmare became even more of a gruesome reality. I would be lying if I said I didn’t see it coming, because I always did and always could. He left dramatically after an argument, one that is and was petty and one that I would have forgotten had it not meant the end of our marriage. I didn’t know that that was the moment in which it would all end, but if I had, I would have lingered at the door a little longer, begged him a little more to stay. I thought he’d go away and come back.

But he didn’t. And suddenly I was alone with two small children with another on the way.

My memories sometimes remind me of a time warp – it seems like yesterday, like there is no possible way that nearly three years have gone by since we lived together as husband and wife, but at the same time it seems like so long ago. I was a different person then; I had no self-respect and no self-esteem. I was hopelessly devoted to him and so hopelessly seeking his attention that I put up with being disrespected. I believed him when he said that no one would love me. I believed every word he said and let him tear down my self-worth with every insult tossed my way, every glass he threw, every plate he broke and every time he pushed me over an end table or out of a chair.

But that girl, that girl that didn’t believe in herself enough to get out, is gone.

I didn’t want to get divorced. I didn’t want out of the relationship. In my heart of hearts I knew we had not tried hard enough. I knew we had not been honest enough with each other. I knew that I had not given this marriage my best effort. I knew that there were things I could have and should have changed, but I didn’t believe it would make a difference. Neither did he, apparently. Because he did want to get divorced. He did want out of the relationship. And he did believe that we’d tried hard enough, and that it just wouldn’t be enough.

Two years and four months ago, when I was 36 weeks pregnant with the now two-year-old calling me “Echo” from the other couch, the kids and I moved away. We left South Carolina, left him and left our old lives behind. Our whole world changed.

I didn’t want to move, if I can be at all honest. I wanted to be there just in case he changed his mind, just in case he wanted to see his children more often. I was – and am – stubborn. I wanted to do it myself, to get a job and raise my children without outside help. But I just couldn’t do it. I fought the move kicking and screaming, but thankfully my family was there to drag me to Tipton County.

Back in those days I often said, “But if I do that, HE WINS!” It was all about keeping score, and he always won in my book. Of course I heard, “No, really, he’s LOSING …” but I didn’t want to hear that. He was getting what he wanted. He wanted out of the relationship. He wanted to be single. He wanted to act like a single man without a family. He got all of that. He won.

When we were married on that dock more than five years ago, peacocks squawked as we were announced husband and wife. I know I heard those peacocks again this morning as a chancery court judge absolved our union, completely and absolutely.

A year ago, I couldn’t understand the excitement surrounding a divorce, but today I understood.

This divorce was too many years and too many tears in the making. On the walk up to the courthouse, a building I visit several times each week for cases in which I am neither the plaintiff nor the defendant, I was willing myself not to cry in the courtroom, in front of other husbands and wives who’d decided to end their marriages, too. There was no need, I told myself. I have fought fair and dignified; I did not stoop to embarrassing lows or seek revenge. And I am proud of myself. I have rebuilt my life, amazingly, and I am happier than ever. These are not reasons to cry.

But I did cry this afternoon. The weight of it all. The enormity of the situation. The length of time it’s taken to get to that podium, that witness stand, to hear that I was being granted an absolute divorce when he had fought it.

I’d finally won.

Winning means closing this nine-year chapter in my life, ending the “Starting Over” category on this blog and continuing to move forward.

Thirteen hours ago I became someone’s ex-wife. There were no dresses, favors or flowers to choose. No invitations to print. No gift registries to complete. (And no pregnancy tests, either, by the way!) But I planned for this. I counted down the days. I understood the full scope of what I was doing. My dad walked me down the aisle five years ago, and he was there today to walk me back the other way.

Borrowing from Ol’ Blue Eyes:
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

It’s been a long time coming, but I did it. I really did it. I’m finally divorced. And I couldn’t be happier.

Thursday morning I met Jaiden’s teacher – the one I’d requested, thankfully – and the whole thing lasted no more than a few minutes. We’re not new to the school, so we didn’t have to learn about the procedures and dress code and whatnot. She has a few kids from last year in her class plus my former coworker’s daughter, so she will know people. The other Jayden from last year is back with her this year, so she will go through another year of being Jaiden D. lol.

Mom & Dad came back that day, and we all went out to eat for dinner. Mexican food three dinners in a row, but we love mexican, so we weren’t complaining! We had Taco Bell for lunch today, so yeah. Definitely love the mexican food.

Yesterday I was supposed to sign the divorce complaint so that it could be sent to that person I am married to, but it needed to be revised. They had me trying to divorce the wrong person – James instead of Bryan. lol. (Which is weird since James is Bryan’s maternal grandfather’s name.) So that, along with the permanent parenting plan, has to be revised and will be ready for me to sign at lunchtime on Monday. From there it will be sent to South Carolina for a signature from the defendant and once that is returned, a court date will be set 90 days out. Granted the defendant returns the paperwork promptly, we could be divorced by our birthdays (in December). I don’t pray a lot when it comes to him, but I am praying he doesn’t drag his feet because I want this over and done with. Not that it makes a huge difference or anything because we’re not together and haven’t been for two years now, but it’s just great to have the legalities all taken care of.

Yesterday was also Mom & Dad’s 28th anniversary. Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday. Last Tuesday was Dad’s birthday and last Monday was Katie’s birthday. I think we may go to dinner here in a few to celebrate, per our family tradition. But I don’t know.

Today has been a low-key Saturday, thankfully. I like being busy, but as we get closer to September I realize that we haven’t done anything big this summer because we’ve – or I’ve – been so busy. We are just trying to enjoy doing nothing for a bit. The kids have been in the pool all day long and Katie and Tyrel are up from Memphis. Mom, Dad and Tyrel have been working in the yard. Katie and I went to the salon so I could get my hair cut, which I haven’t done since DECEMBER. Is that not ridiculous? My split ends had split ends, and those split ends had split ends. It was ridiculous. But now it’s taken care of – and my hair barely touches my shoulders where before it went below my shoulder blades. Quite a few inches gone. It looks better – definitely – though I am not quite sold on it. lol. At least it just doesn’t hang there anymore. Now I need to get rid of the highlights-gone-wrong and I’ll be all set.

I have plans for this evening – the movies with a friend of mine. Tomorrow is church and, since it’s tax-free weekend, possibly a little trip to Memphis so I can get the rest of what Jaiden needs, clothes-wise, for school. She needs knee-length shorts, a pair of capris and things like that (just bottoms). Our Wal-Mart cannot deliver in that area – everything is hootchie-fied and short, not knee-length. Anyway, if we do that, Katie will meet us up there so she can spend the gift cards she got last weekend at her baby shower. And speaking of Katie, the girl is huge. lol. She’s 37 weeks now – Caiden will be here in less than two weeks (eviction date is Aug. 17)! We took more maternity shots today and maybe more next weekend, if I can.

Some funny stuff from Jaiden: last night at the dinner table out of nowhere she says, “I know, I drive you crazy!” lol! We busted out laughing.

Jaylen is just … becoming a BOY! So very rowdy! Not bad, just rowdy, the way a boy is supposed to be.

And Jenna learned how to give kisses last night. It was too sweet. lol! She kinda sucks on my lip for a few seconds first.

I signed the older two up for soccer yesterday. Practices start the week of the 20th. Their uniforms are orange and white – Vols colors. Bleh. Why can’t they make them orange and maroon? Games start in September. Woohoo!

Anyway. I suppose that’s it.

Sometimes I go back and look through my drafts, the entries that I began and never finished or finished and never posted. The title of this one stares me in the face each and every time I write a post. The original timestamp was November 23, 2005, at 9:22 am. Around the holidays we all tend to get sentimental and list the blessings we have, and this is what I desperately wanted to post:

I know that it doesn’t show or anything, but I have become one hell of a bitter, frazzled, stressed out, frustrated woman. Yeah, it totally shows. Around this time each year our hearts grow tender; we all want peace, joy, happiness .. all of those good things. We reflect on the year gone by, count our blessings, and curse the commercial circus that has become the holidays in our country. Me? I have a lot to reflect on, a few blessings to count, and personally, I have the commercial circus to thank for being able to pay a bill this month and affording Christmas. However, there is an ugly truth that has become my life and, because of that, I am bitter. I want to be bitter. I want to be alone on Thanksgiving. I want to spend the holidays with my own little family – myself and the two little children I have pushed from my body, plus the little one that has yet to grace us with her departure from the womb.

Notice no husband? Yeah, me too.

While I do have plenty to be thankful for – good health, a tribe of children, freedom, choices – I am finding it difficult to really find the silver lining.

This is not finished, which is only part of the reason it was never posted.

Reading this again reminds me of just how alone I was, how alone I felt, and how alone I desperately wanted to be. I was so depressed, so devastated, and so stubborn. I told him repeatedly that I was not going to give up on us. I knew he’d be back and I knew we’d fall back into our usual, albeit dysfunctional, pattern. I was happy with that, with being his wife, with being a family. If I couldn’t have that, I just wanted to be alone with my kids in our little apartment. I didn’t have a plan, but I was bound and determined that I would not move to live with my parents or my in-laws. I didn’t want to be pitied and treated as the fragile woman I was. I just wanted to get through it and stay there, in Columbia, so he and the kids could be near one another. When I came here for Christmas I only thought of how much I did not want to move here, how much I wanted to be on my own, and how much I still wanted to be with my husband. I finally gave in and by the end of the next day, before I had really even thought of planning the logistics, my family had requested days off and chosen when the kids and I would move back. I probably would still be in Columbia if they didn’t do that, and they probably knew that.

I’m really glad I have this blog. Bryan never understood why I would ever want to do this and why anyone would ever want to read about my ‘boring life’ (and I know he is not alone). Yes, it’s pretty boring, but it’s my life. I love going back and reading things my kids did when they were babies, funny things they said, awful days I had. I can read almost five years’ worth of emotions, of good memories, of bad memories, of major life events, of day-to-day things (I’m missing chunks here and there from ’01 and ’02 and I would love to have those back because it was during my pregnancy and Jaiden’s first three months that I am missing). I am, of course, a very, very sentimental person and love having this written record, especially since I can go back and read exactly how I was feeling at every step along the way and know that there are things I want to do again and places in my life I never want to go back to.

Life is funny that way, though. Sometimes we find that the situations we never wanted to be in make us the happiest of all.