Here is my response to the oft-asked question. “Why don’t you find him and make him pay?”
Marital Fraud
“It’s not fraud if you’re married,” the policeman said apologetically. As I registered his words, the enormity of what I was facing became clear.
My ex-husband and I first established a household together in our late teens. We came together with nothing. We opened up joint accounts and scrupulously managed every dime that came in from our low paying jobs. In those early years, we did all of the finances together, talking through options and discussing goals. Read the rest on the Huffington Post.
Or, you can also hear me talk about it on The Jeff Probst Show.
Practicing What I Preach
First, please familiarize yourself with my post, This Is a Test of the Emergency Rant System. Done? Okay, now let’s get on with it.
Today was the first of many monthly payments on my ex-husband’s debt that I am responsible for (and we won’t even talk about the large sum that I paid last week to get the ball rolling). My hope all along was to be able to settle the debt in a lump sum so that I wouldn’t have the emotional bungee cord of monthly payments that can so easily pull me back into a state of anger and frustration. Obviously, my hope for a single lump sum did not manifest, so now I have to make the best out of the situation in which I find myself.
So, I am practicing what I preach. Each month, as I send the payment, I will add another item to a growing gratitude list. This forces me to steer my thoughts towards the present and the positive rather than getting mired in the muck of the past every lunar cycle. I won’t be sharing all of those on here, but I started with following today:
Brock – the love I never thought I would find
That’s a much nicer thought to be left with than one where I’m cursing my ex or wondering where the money went.
It’s strange. The loss of this money every month will hurt. It means that some things will have to be postponed indefinitely (Two Ladies Going to Verona) and my car better last for another 5 years. But still, it feels good in a purgative sort of way to release the funds. This is the last tangible tie (apart from the gift of crappy credit he left me with) to my ex and his deceptions. For 3 years, my money has not been securely mine as I’ve paid some of his debts and worked to negotiate others. With each payment, my burden of the past is lessened and I am one month closer to ownership of my income.
I’m not going to pretend it’s always easy. Some moments, I wish my checkbook had a special carbon where I could write a “Bad Karma” check to the bigamist at the same time I record a payment for his lies. The reality; however, is that such a check would hurt me more than it would hurt him simply by keeping my thoughts in the negative.
So, instead, I’ll picture a “Good Karma” carbon and I’ll focus on cultivating positive energy with each payment. Besides, I’m sure he’s cashing enough bad karma checks on his own; he doesn’t need me to endorse them.
In about two years, I’ll be free of this last tie to the past and I will have a wonderful list of 24 things for which I am grateful. I can live with that.
This is a Test of the Emergency Rant System
This is only a test. If this were a real rant, the computer would be out the window and my hands would be pummeling the heavy bag instead of the keyboard.
It is not fair.
It’s not fair that I am left cleaning up and facing the consequences of the enormous financial mess he left behind. I just found out today that it’s worse than I thought and I will be making payments on charges he ran up for the next few years. Every time I write that check, how do I keep from wondering what I’m paying for – women, booze, trips, gambling? What? When I tried to investigate the charges shortly after receiving the text, he changed the password while I was in the account. Covering tracks, I suppose.
The only reason he was on the card was so that he could handle the occasional phone calls needed for a dispute or issue since I couldn’t use the phone while teaching. Apparently he saw it – and me – as his personal ATM. I feel like I’m now paying penance for trusting him.
It is not fair.
I have worked so hard for so many years to try to get ahead. I gave up my intended career and over 100 college hours to follow him and support us while his employment was uncertain. I tutored for hours after school to make extra money to spend on trips or the hot tub we bought a year before he left. And after he left? I’ve had to be so careful with money. The lawyers, courts, and various other debts took my income that first year and made a significant dent the next two. I was just starting to breath, thinking I was making progress. But, no. Not yet. Even though he’s gone, he still manages to hurt me. It’s like the nightmare after the horror movie. I just want it to end.
It is not fair.
As far as I know, he continues to sidestep his responsibilities. They’re after him, but I don’t know if anything will ever come from it.
It is not fair.
But I’ll be okay.
Just like everything else, I’ll get through this. My marathon next week can be training for writing those damned checks. One check for every mile, perhaps. And when it’s done, it’s done. The end.
I’ll be okay.
My boyfriend’s response when I texted him the news today? “We will get through it together:).” Yes, we will. And, you know what? Coming home to a messy kitchen seems pretty silly compared to fraud.
I’ll be okay.
I’m lucky. I have it so much easier than divorced people with children to look out for. I have a solid career that gives me the ability to sign those accursed checks. This has an expiration date. I just wish I didn’t have to continue to hold on to the the soured milk.
I will be okay. I will end today grateful for what I have rather than cursing what was taken.
That is the conclusion of the test of our emergency rant system. We now resume our regular programming.
And, an update on the situation: Practicing What I Preach
Sweat and Tears
The tears were close to the surface this morning.
Tears of frustration born from his decisions nickel and diming away my future.
Tears of anger at myself for falling for his swindle.
Tears of shame at how I am perceived as I act as the face of his mess
While he continues to run away.
I welcomed the hot breathe of the yoga studio today,
Seeking purification and strength within its walls.
I set my intention, looking for acceptance.
I was told to “let it go,”
But I held on for dear life.
As I pressed into my first down dog,the hot tears formed furrows
In the beads of sweat rolling down my face.
I struggled to keep my breath as the sobs stole the rhythm from my vinyasa,
The body trying to share its wisdom with the mind.
“Feel deeper,” echoed the instructor’s voice as we were bent over in a forward fold,
The tap-tap-tap of sweat hitting the floor telling the tales of the heat.
“You will not be given more than you can bear.”
My hips felt like they were being wrenched apart,
Following in the footsteps of my heart.
“Let it go.”
I breathed into the pain, trying to soften.
“Don’t let the difficulty opening the hips translate to tension in the neck;”
“Don’t let something that is challenging destroy something which is working beautifully.”
Folding into child’s pose, I took a moment and let that soak in.
My current struggle is temporary, my gratitude is not.
“Let it go”
I walked out of the studio, the pouring summer rains,
Washing the sweat and tears from my enlightened body.
Ready to sever the final ugly tie to the past,
Trusting that the price will not be too much to bear.
I am ready
to let it go.
;
;
Related articles
- Tears look like sweat: yoga for grief (justherejustnow.wordpress.com)
- Breathing In Rhythm: The Relationship Between Yoga & Music. ~ Rich Mangicaro (elephantjournal.com)
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Lessons From the End of a Marriage 