Putting It All Behind Me

Posted on by stilllearning2b

You know those times when you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you finally get a deep lungful of air?

Well, apparently I haven’t been breathing for the past 6 years. Or actually for the past 6 years and 5 days, to be exact.

And I didn’t even realize it until today. Or more specifically, when I received the word that not only did I qualify for the car loan, I qualified for the lowest interest rate.

I can’t even begin to explain the relief that gives me.

Not only does a new (and hopefully more trustworthy car) give me freedom, the loan is a sign that I can finally put the financial betrayal behind me.

I’ve always said that the financial betrayal was the worst. It’s the one that refuses to disappear. That tails behind me as stubborn and persistent as a hungry toddler. Only much, much more nefarious.

I have been reminded of it every time I’ve had to make payments on debts he incurred (for things like HIS honeymoon). It’s been thrown in my face with letters and phone calls from collections, threatening me because of his lies. And it’s held me back as I’ve worked to improve my credit score.

It’s been a load of shame on my back for the past 6 years.

I’ve felt embarrassed every time my financial situation has to be exposed. I instinctively pull out my divorce decree, ready to defend myself against the stains still on my record. I’m not sure what’s worse – the feeling that others might think I was responsible for the debt or the knowledge that I was a chump, blindly ignorant to my ex’s machinations.

I’ve been uncomfortable with my car – easily the oldest in the parking lot at work and probably also the senior in my neighborhood – for a few years. I don’t like to let people into the vehicle, where the orange foam spilling out of the cracked seats will tickle their sides. I like to arrive to the location where I will meet a new person before them, so that I am not associated with the rapidly aging vehicle. Because even though I’m not one to give much credence to appearances, I know that others are judging me by my ride.

It’s been a flame of anger for the past 6 years.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he stole my money and my credit and escaped unharmed as far as I know. It’s not fair that all of the careful planning and saving that I did was wiped out for his impulsive and deceptive actions. It’s not fair that he was granted the newer and more valuable car (that was almost paid off) by the courts and I received the ten year old model.

I’m angry at myself. For believing what my ex told me and not looking for myself. For trusting that he cared as much about my financial well-being as he did his own. For being stupid and gullible and naive.

And I’m reminded of this anger every time I grow frustrated with my car or see his impact still imprinted on my credit. I’ve had to very intentional and generous with gratitude to counteract the scalding impact of his actions. And that’s not fair either.

It’s been a cloak of fear around my heart for the past 6 years.

In the beginning, I couldn’t even bear to see the extent of the damage. I narrowed my eyes when I looked at account balances, blurring the total as though that would somehow soften its effect. I had my dad examine my credit report after promising that he would not reveal the actual score to me. I was afraid to face the evidence that he had been whittling away at my well-being for years.

Every trip to the mailbox and every unknown number on my phone caused my pulse to rise as I braced for news of another account or threats on a known one. Even as parceled out paychecks to pay down the debt, I was petrified that another would surface and my careful accounting wouldn’t be enough to save me.

I finally faced my credit score for the first time since the life implosion two years ago. Ever since, I obsessively check Credit Karma every day. And I’ve watched the number rise as my identity is slowly replacing that of my ex on the accounts.

But I haven’t really trusted the number. It felt fake, somehow.

And so, when I nervously entered my information on the credit application for the car, I was sure that I would be declined. Or at least offered some sub par rate. And when the phone rang mere moments after I hit “submit,” I saw it as verification that my fears were founded.

“Everything looks good,” I heard faintly, as though it was coming through a tunnel.

It was only after I hung up that I realized I had collapsed onto the floor, relief buckling my knees beneath me.

Because it’s about way more than the money. Or the car.

I can finally feel like this is all behind me. Like I am no longer held back or limited by any of what happened.

And for the first time in 6 years and 5 days, I can finally breath freely.

Identity Theft

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My stomach dropped as I read the words on the screen:

We take your privacy and your security seriously. In order to process your request, you must first complete the following identity quiz.

The last time I had to take an identity quiz, I failed.

It was just over three years ago and I was in an AT&T retail store to open up my own account. I was already nervous about committing to the higher monthly fee of a smartphone and I was worried that I would fall flat on some credit score high jump.

Those weren’t the problems.

“Okay,” the clerk said, angling the computer screen and keyboard my direction, “I just need for you to answer these quick questions to confirm your identity.”

The first question was a softball to the gut: “Which of the following is a name you have used?”

At least I knew that answer I thought, as I selected my former married name, swallowing hard at the rude intrusion of the past.

I hit “next.”

“Which of the following is an account you have had in the previous five years?”

I didn’t recognize any of the names listed. With a prickly sense of dread, I turned to the clerk, “I don’t know this one,” I explained, “My ex. There was a divorce. He lied. He hid. He’s wanted for a felony. I’ve been working hard to rebuild, but I…”

My voice caught as I feared that he would again manage to interrupt my future.

“It’s okay, honey, “she replied in a nurturing tone, “I’ve been there. Just do your best and don’t worry. We’ll make this work.”

Bolstered by her conviction, I did my best on the remaining nine questions, putting forth my best guess on account names, balances and addresses.

But my best wasn’t good enough.

I failed my own identity test.

The clerk (AKA my hero) got on the phone with the finance department and went to bat for me.

“She went through an awful divorce and doesn’t know most of the answers to the questions. I have in my hand three forms of photo ID, a checkbook and a bank statement, all in her name. It’s her.”

And I could have kissed her as she finally hung up with a triumphant smile on her face.

So you can see why I nervous about submitting to another identity test.

The first question?

“Which of the following people have you resided with?”

The answer?

My husband’s name. My current husband.

A tiny hint of a smile crept over my pursed lips.

“At which of the following addresses have you resided?”

The correct response was the address of the town home that my husband had when we first moved in together.

The pursing of the lips faded entirely.

The final question had to do with my current county.

I passed my identity test!

Once I was duly acknowledged, processed and allowed within the stronghold, I ran into the bathroom where my husband was taking a bath.

“I just had to take an identity quiz and all of the questions were from the past five years!!! Isn’t that awesome?!?”

“Sure,” he said, with an indulging smile.

I felt renewed as another layer of the past was shed.

My identity was stolen.

But I got it back.

Money Talks

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It’s always about so much more than money, isn’t it?

It’s amazing how much emotion and self-image can become tied up in the amount of money coming in and in how the money goes out.

And how something that at its essence is pretty basic can become the basis for such elaborate reactions and over-reactions.

We lose sleep about money. Lose friends over money. Lose our minds over money.

And if you’ve faced financial betrayal?

Yeah.

Let’s say it’s easy to just plain lose it.

I hate the way the financial betrayal has impacted my relationship with money. It has taken what used to be a healthy respect and responsible frugality and twisted it into something shame-tinged and focused on avoiding scarcity. It has made money a focus for me in a way I despise. I feel like a starving person at a buffet. I want to pile it all on my plate, but I’m afraid to take a bite in case it makes me sick.

And I hate it.

After being robbed behind my stupidly naive and trusting back, I now obsessively controlling my own funds. I breathe a little easier when my credit score rises a point (happy dance time!), my student loan balance decreases or when I sock away another few hundred towards the car I’ll need soon (not too soon, please!!!).

I am always careful to make sure that I can survive on my own if I should have to (smart) and yet I don’t relax into the financial reality I have with my husband (not too smart). I don’t spend money I don’t have (smart), but I also don’t spend money that I have and should (not so smart says my feet in too-old running shoes).

And the dumbest thing? The part I really beat my head against the wall about? After my ex’s financial secrecy, you would think I would want it all laid out (that would be smart). But I have trouble talking about it (dumb, dumb, dumb). My now-husband has none of the tuck-it-under-the-covers approach that my ex perfected (thank goodness!) and so there’s nothing hidden to uncover. Yet, when he innocuously brings up something about money, my stomach still does a little somersault. Just a baby one. But a tumble nonetheless.

And when I have to bring it up? I think I get a cartwheel.

And the really crazy thing?

I’m talking about zero-stress (at least on his part), no conflict discussions.

For example…

We usually split most home renovation/repair costs on a percentage split based upon relative income. Sometimes he picks up a little more if I happen to be strapped at that point. And he does this without comment or complaint.

This season, adding some landscaping is in the plans. As I started stalking nurseries (NOT the kind that house children!) and making lists, he said more than once, “Just tell me how much you need.”

A side note here, I promise not to turn this blog into a gardening forum. But you will probably be subjected to some (okay, maybe more than some) plant pictures and, knowing me, some far-out gardening analogies that I somehow manage to relate to relationships.

And I figured out last weekend about how much I would need. And I felt like it was too much. So I worried it around in my head until tonight, when I finally asked him.

His response? “Sure. When do you need it?”

He has a much more balanced relationship with money than I do. Obviously.

And I’m working on it. My little monthly Birchbox is a baby step. The first of many.

Our good friend just left here with our tax info (it’s awesome to have a friend who is also an accountant). We talked for a while about money and its entanglement with our psyche.

And he reminded me about the importance of a mindset of abundance.

I have that image in my mind for my garden. Maybe it’s time to allow that image to spread.

I Did It. I Finally Did It.

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Dumbo Elephant Mural
Dumbo Elephant Mural (Photo credit: sameffron)

It may seem as though I have slain all of the demons from my past. I can look at pictures without tears. I’m no longer fueled by anger. I have let myself find forgiveness. I have learned how to trust again and I have found love.

But there has been one huge elephant of a demon that I’ve been afraid to face. One I have been avoiding, tiptoeing around its bulk so as not to disturb it. I’ve been good about pretending it isn’t there. That it doesn’t matter. And for a time, it didn’t matter. But that time is over.

Last night, I did it. I faced that final demon head on.

And I survived.

It wasn’t as bad as I feared it may be (it never is, is it?) yet facing it didn’t bleed it of all its power. But at least I know now what I am dealing with and I can feel good about not hiding from it.

I did it. I finally did it.

I checked my credit score.

I used to have perfect credit. I was anal about making payments on time. I had large credit limits yet low levels of debt. I found security in my number. Perhaps I even looked at that number as validation. I must be a good person, I can get a good interest rate.

Apparently, that number was too much for my ex to resist. In the last couple (I think?) years of the marriage, he used my credit. He used my honesty to fund his lies.

When all of this came out within days of the text, I felt huge amounts of shame. I was embarrassed that I didn’t know he was embezzling from the marriage (I counted on fraud alert, but it doesn’t protect you from spouses). I was horrified to receive threatening letters from creditors in my name (he was no longer around to intercept the mail). I was furious with him. I felt violated and used. Dirty. I wanted to wash myself of his sins.

I couldn’t face the enormity of it. I had my dad check my credit, looking for what accounts my ex had used in my name. I didn’t want to know numbers, only names.

In the divorce, most of debt was his responsibility, although he never fulfilled his end of the bargain, thus leading to a foreclosure in my name. A parting gift, perhaps? The few accounts in my name where mine to deal with.

For the last almost four years, I have been dealing with them.

Clean Up, Aisle 5

An Open Letter to the IRS

This is a Test of the Emergency Rant System

Practicing What I Preach

I paid the IRS and then received a refund once I was granted innocent spouse relief. I paid off one credit line. And I’m working on the last (the most horrific, both in scale and in emotion, because some of it was used to fund his pre-honeymoon with his other wife).

My cautious nature with money means that bills are again being paid on time. I’ve been able to begin to reestablish myself as a credit worthy individual. But I still couldn’t look at the number.

I saw it like a scarlet mark of shame, quantifying my misplaced trust and stupidity.

It’s also the only factor from my past that doesn’t only exist in the past. It still has the capacity to cause harm, to derail my future as surely as  my marriage.

But now I’ve faced that elephantine demon, sized it up. The starvation diet has been working; I’m sure its bulk has been reduced since it appeared. I now know the demon I am working with and I can move forward with the rest of my life.

I did it. I finally did it.

It’s Not Fraud If You’re Married

Marital Fraud: Questions Answered

Marital Fraud: Questions Answered

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My recent Huffington Post piece, It’s Not Fraud If You’re Married has generated some interesting and thoughtful questions. Here are the answers to some of them. It may make you think about your own situation.

Why don’t I take him to court to make him pay?

That’s a whole essay! Read it here: Why I Choose Not to Play Criminal Pursuit

Did we communicate about money?

My ex and I had discussions about finances (both the current state and goals) all of the time. It turns out; however, that he was feeding me lies, at least in the last several years of the marriage. I never had reason to doubt him and I saw occasional documents (now I know they were manufactured…did I mention he did graphics for a living?) that supported his claims. We had an agreement that any purchase above $100 had to be discussed with the other. I upheld my end of that bargain.

Did we live above our means?

Not even close! I drive an almost fourteen year car that I bought new in 1999 for $18,000. Until I received an iPhone last spring, I had a Nokia flip phone. Our house was cheap for the area ($130,000) and we put a substantial amount down. By the time he left, our combined monthly income was almost $6,000 after taxes and we only needed about $2,500 to live. Now, all of that being said, he did start to develop more expensive tastes. He purchased a 2005 Toyota 4-Runner (not the cheapest vehicle, but still a practical one for us), Kindle, and was on his 2nd iPhone. Of course, that was the stuff I knew about…

Where did the money go?

If you find out, please let me know! I have no idea where the money went. I discovered some purchases after he left, but they were rather small ( a videogame system, an additional bike). I also learned of trips and dinners/drinks out. But still, it doesn’t account for the copious sums he managed to make disappear (he could give David Copperfield a run for his money!). I could only track the money so far because it went into accounts that I did not have access to or was withdrawn as cash. Drugs? Gambling? A third wife? With this man, who knows? Yet another thing I have had to just let go of.

Why did he get the house?

He took out a home equity line without my knowledge. That meant that, at the time of the divorce, the house was worth what was owed on it. I had moved out of the house immediately and into a friend’s spare bedroom. I could not afford the house, literally or emotionally. It sat vacant during the 8 months of the divorce proceedings. I tried – through the lawyer layers – to convince him to sell the house. He did not cooperate. Then, he shocked us in court when he requested the house. He seemed to be under the delusion that it had equity. So, he got it. I guess he changed his mind once he realized it was a cash cow that he already bled.

Would a prenup have protected me?

Not really. All it would have been is another document stating that he owed me money. Civil cases take a certain amount of cooperation, regardless of prior agreements. I don’t think it would have made a difference at all to him.

Can’t he be jailed for contempt of court for not upholding the terms of the divorce decree?

Technically, yes. However, I would have to continue to push the system. And he would have to show up in court. There is a felony warrant out for his arrest. Last I knew, the IRS was trying to track him down. Do you really think he would show up at a hearing for not meeting terms of an agreement? Yeah, exactly. Plus, just to get to that point would cost me more money and steal more of my life away. No, thanks.

I realized soon after the divorce was final that I could either spend my life trying to punish him (and thus punishing myself in the process) or I could decide to live. I chose the latter.

For more information:

Who is He?

Where is He Now?

My Motivation

Accounting of Loss

And, to read about how I learned to love and trust again, check out my book, Lessons From the End of a Marriage.