I used to let my story tell me. I was the first wife of the bigamist. I was the woman whose husband left with a text message. I was the runner who could barely walk after my world was washed away with a tsunami divorce. I used to let my story tell me. Until I learned how to tell my story. Click to read the rest of the post on All Things Healing and learn about the workshop that caused my perspective to shift.
The book is currently available on Kindle. I will be working on the print and Nook versions soon.
Note: If you are not familiar with my basic story, please read this first so you have some context.
I received an email the other day from someone, let’s just call him P, proposing an opportunity that would be very beneficial for me as a writer (chugging away on the book every day!!!) and as a wellness coach.
There was one caveat – he would need to locate my ex-husband. After some deliberation, I agreed and I sent him the contact information that I have. I also informed him that, as of the last I knew, if you Googled my ex’s name along with the limiting and somewhat giggle-inducing keyword, “bigamy,” you would pull up some articles from 2009 as well as his mugshot.
I kept up with my ex’s whereabouts until the divorce was final, in March of 2010. I promised myself at that point that I would never look him or his wife up again. I have held fast to that promise.
Two days after sending P the contact information, I spoke to him on the phone. He had not had any luck in locating the ex (which I expected), but he did say something that caught me short.
“I did Google his name and I found the articles from 2009 and the mugshot. I also found some articles from 2010 and 2011.”
Whoa, Nelly. There’s new information out there. I think P sensed that I did not want to know the content of what he found and so he did not reveal the nature of the articles.
He then made another comment that was interesting.
“We can’t do this if there are any open cases against him.”
Hmmm…so I guess he has continued his life of crime? My first thought was for his wife. I have had a genuine concern that he would try to kill her.
Luckily, that did not seem to be the subject of the articles, as P then said maybe they could locate the wife (ex-wife?) in his place. I agreed, and gave her (also outdated) contact information.
It’s been several days, and I have not heard from P. I doubt that either one of them is easily found and willing to share their stories. Meanwhile, it leaves me in strange place. I know there is information out there. I feel like I should be curious. But, I’m not. I haven’t wanted to search, haven’t had to check myself to keep from typing his name into Google.
Who knows what will become of this little detour in my saga – will he be found? will she turn up? will this opportunity pan out for me? Who knows… Regardless, I see my reaction to this as a sign, a sign that I really have moved on.
Note: For any of you that know me personally and know his name, if you choose to do a search, please do not share what you learn. I really don’t want to trigger the desire to keep up with him again. Thank you:)
One of the responses I frequently get to my story is, “What an idiot for getting caught.” He wasn’t an idiot, but he certainly underestimated me.
In my former life, I had a tendency to want to turn away from anything scary or ugly. My ex obviously knew this, and he exploited it towards the end of the marriage. I believe that he thought I would be so shocked and devastated by the “good-bye” text, that I would be paralyzed with fear. He thought wrong. Instead of hiding, instead of turning away, I was driven to find out what happened.
First, let me clarify. The text was abrupt. Sudden. The marriage that I knew, that he led me to see, was good. He refused to respond to any calls or texts after he left. He took all but one of the computers (mine), all of the financial documents, and strange things (like the discs that held the papers I wrote for grad school). The passwords on all of the accounts had been changed. It made no sense.
So, I immediately went into detective mode. By getting into the financial accounts, I learned of an affair and financial deceptions going back years. I also learned where he currently was staying (a few states over). It gave some answers. The emails gave the rest. Because of the way our accounts were linked, I was able to see the messages sent to his junk folder, which included those that were carbon copied.
It only took a few days for the first interesting email to come through. This one indicated plans for a visa for an upcoming trip to Uganda with the mistress. Interesting. Seemed like he was running.
The big shocker came three days after that. A message I had to read several times to grasp the meaning of. It initiated from a band in the town where he was staying. It seems they were looking for payment for a wedding they had recently performed at. His wedding.
Oops.
That started the chain that led to his arrest and bigamy charge.
Lesson 1: Don’t underestimate yourself; you are capable of more than you ever know.
Lesson 2: Don’t run away from your fears; they grow more powerful when ignored.
Lesson 3: If you’re going to get married illegally, be sure to pay the band.
When I first started dating again, I was guarded. I was ready to date rather quickly, but not quite ready to fully trust or to completely open up to another. I viewed dating as a fun pastime, an opportunity to do things, get to meet new people, and learn more about myself. I had no expectations, no goals, and no objectives. I kept myself at a safe distance by telling my story early (just imagine hearing about a bigamist soon-to-be-ex-husband on a first date!) and informing my date that I was planning on moving to Seattle in a few months. I let myself be attracted, but I kept my heart in reserve, hiding my vulnerabilities and projecting an aura of self-sufficiency. I didn’t make it easy to get to know me and I was happy that way.
Until I met this guy.
I had gone out with his owner a couple times. We had an attraction, but I had (foolishly) chosen to focus on another guy over him. We kept in touch over the next few weeks, and when he rescued the world’s most adorable pit bull puppy, he sent me a picture of Tiger via email. I didn’t think I could fall in love with a dog again after the pain of losing mine. I was wrong. That little guy (okay, maybe little isn’t quite the right word!) held nothing in reserve when we met. He greeted me as though I was his long lost buddy. He didn’t care what baggage I brought or that I was still learning to trust. He fully accepted me as I was at that moment. I didn’t have to protect myself or worry about getting hurt. I didn’t have to consider if he was truthful or hiding ulterior motives. All things that would go through my mind on a date.
Tiger wormed his way into my heart over the next few weeks. I found myself softening, trust building both towards the dog and towards his daddy. I’m not sure I would be where I am today without Tiger; he was my guide back into love.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 