Georgia

Fear in the Headlights

Posted on May 13, 2014May 13, 2014 by stilllearning2b

I have two friends – sisters – who sadly lost their mom to cancer when they were teenagers. At some point, they decided to celebrate Mother’s Day with an annual trip to an amusement park. It turns out that this is one of the least-busy days of the year at the park; I guess most families don’t celebrate maternal love and care with adrenaline rushes.

Several years ago, the roller coaster sisters decided to invite a mutual friend of ours, also motherless, to join them. It wasn’t a successful partnership as it turns out that this friend had an aversion to heights which is certainly a liability for an amusement park.

So, the next year, they invited me. I’m not motherless, but I am devoid of local matriarchal connections. Oh, and I love adrenaline and I’m not overly afraid of heights. It’s been an awesome tradition in which to be included. We’ve gone down to Florida, up to North Carolina and sometimes stayed put at Six Flags in Atlanta.

Regardless of location, we ride coasters. And then more coasters.

And, without fail, there is anxiety built before the first ride of the day. There is uncertainty, especially if it is to be a virgin ride with unknown drops and loops. One of the sisters always comes close to backing out and regrets not throwing in the towel as the ride clacks to the top.

And then, without fail, our delighted screams fill the air. And the sister that was the most hesitant becomes the most excited to run to the next ride.

Throughout the day, the supply of adrenaline is literally exhausted; the short lines do not allow ample time for the body to replenish its stores. By mid-afternoon, we can be seen completely relaxed on even the most terrifying ride.

Fear thrives in the unknown.

The sisters proposed a new adventure this year- zip-lining. I was by far the most experienced yesterday. Although this was my first visit to this establishment, it was my 5th time zip-lining. It was a known for me.

But it was unknown to the sisters.

The first challenge was to cross a 50 foot bridge that was built from widely separated (and swinging) boards. The bridge started at an elevation of around 25 feet and climbed to 40 feet where it ended at a small platform surrounding a large pine tree. The bridge felt unstable. The planks moved and the gaps between them were easily large enough to swallow even the largest man in our group and the holes drew the eye down – way down – to the ground below. The cables that acted as handrails were anything but solid. Even the anchor point of the tree swayed.

But all that was an illusion. We were each tethered to a cable running above the bridge with heavy ropes and clips. If we should fall and lack the strength to hoist ourselves back onto the bridge, three guides stood at the ready to lift us back to the planks. They even carried pulleys, ropes and bandages in their packs.

We were completely safe.

But one of the sisters didn’t believe it.

Or, more accurately, her primal brain hijacked her rational one and the former was screaming out the dangers on the bridge.

It was wild to watch. I crossed the bridge first. After clipping myself safely to the pine tree on the far side, I turned to look at the progress behind me. The sister, calm and confident moments before, was frozen a few steps onto the bridge. She knew she was safe. But her brain convinced her she was not. And her body listened. No amount of encouragement could convince her to complete that walk. She finally unlocked enough to back off the bridge and back to the known of the solid ground below.

Fear believes illusions.

Fear was not my companion yesterday. It was a comfortable environment for me and I knew the illusion of danger was just noise. But that’s not to say I’m not more than familiar with that powerless and incapacitated feeling when fear moves in. I’ve written about learning how to ski and overcome my apprehension of downhills. I’ve had similar experiences with biking (go ahead and laugh – I can zip line without a problem but a 3% downhill grade on a bike makes me nauseous!).

But I’m mainly familiar with the mental origins of fear. The psychological equivalent of the swinging planks and depths below. Those times when we have the safety systems we need, but we worry anyways. Where the body may continue forward but the mind freezes in place, unable to trust in the journey forward. It’s a place of internal lock-down. No amount of encouragement will release the mind from its hold.

But it doesn’t have to be permanent. We don’t have to live suspended on that bridge between where we are and where we want to be.

Begin by breathing. It’s a whisper to the body that it is okay. Safe.

Be gentle with yourself. Self-flagellation may alleviate guilt, but it is a horrible tool against fear.

If the unknown has you frightened, make an effort to learn. Information is soothing.

When you’re frozen in fear, back off. It’s not a time to be a bull.

Distract the brain. Take a break in your comfort zone. It builds your confidence.

Recall times you were fearful and preserved. It builds your confidence even more.

Wait until the fear has subsided.

And then try to approach again.

That’s exactly what the one sister did yesterday. When we arrived back at the lodge, we were thrilled to hear that she had elected to take part in a later tour. And she came back smiling.

The unknown had become known.

And the illusions of fear had been revealed.

Leaving behind a sense of accomplishment and confidence.

Innocent Spouse Relief

Posted on August 24, 2013March 6, 2024 by stilllearning2b

I’ve been receiving more questions about this program offered by the IRS, so I figured it was time to dedicate an entire post to the subject. Please note that I am not a tax expert (nor do I want to be!!!). I am simply sharing my experience, summarizing the information from the IRS and pointing you in the right direction for further resources.

From my book:

I received a notice that I had a certified letter ready for pick-up. My stomach dropped, as I had been conditioned to certified letters signaling more money owed or another bomb ready to drop. When the postmistress placed the stocky envelope in my hands, she uttered an apology.

“Sorry. It’s from the IRS. Nobody likes to get those.”

I thanked her and moved to the side of the room bracing myself against the green tiled wall as I slid my finger under to the flap to break the seal.

“We have determined that you are eligible for Innocent Spouse Relief.”

I let out a sharp cry as I slid to the floor, grasping the stapled pages in both hands. The tears began, falling from my eyes that tracked that single line again and again. The postmistress looked up, concerned. Leaving her current customer, she lifted the hinged counter section, kneeled next me, and inquired about my well-being.

“I’m great,” I said through the sobs. “I got Innocent Spouse Relief. The IRS gave me the justice the courts never did.”

“That’s great, honey,” she replied, looking equal parts relieved and confused.

Hours went by before I was able to read more than that single sentence. There was a 90-day waiting period where Timothy would have a chance to contest before they would issue a check. I did not care. I was fixated on that single word, “Innocent.” After enduring the months of attacks by Timothy and his attorney, and internalizing some his lies, I felt such relief at the conclusion reached by a third party.

I had long since given up my faith in labels, but that simple declaration from the IRS freed me from bonds I was not aware ensnared me, releasing me in the way that I expected from the court ruling.

My tax problem was one of several bombs in those first few days. My first indication of a problem came in a thick envelope just days after I received the text. The letter was very threatening in tone and it was clear it was not the first notice. It was simply the first notice that he couldn’t intercept. This one stated that we owed almost $3,000 for taxes from 2007. $3,000 that I didn’t have. And, to make matters worse, he had taken all of the financial files with him as well as the computer that was used to prepare the taxes. I had to order my own tax returns from the IRS to try to figure out what happened.

I had neither the constitution nor resources to go to battle with the IRS at that point. I was simply struggling to survive. So, using money gifted from family, I sent them a check. Over the next few months, two more letters came in about two different years. I cut two more checks.

I was furious. At this point, I had received the returns and discovered that he made false deductions. $10,000 to charity??? I probably dropped some stuff off at Goodwill but I don’t think my old jeans and some video tapes were worth quite that much. He had always been the one to prepare our taxes (yes, I trusted him completely) and, with electronic filing, I didn’t even have to sign in the later years.

I looked at the thousands I sent to IRS up as simply more money he stole from me. I lived in fear of another audit and more money owed. I tried to find comfort in the fact that the legal divorce at lease promised me that there would be no new tax problems cropping up.

Months after the divorce was final, my dad called me with some news.

“I just heard about a program with the IRS, innocent spouse relief, that I think may help you. I’ll send you the link.”

I remember clicking that link, skimming the fact page it led me to and starting to shake. It felt too good to be true. At that point, I had lost all faith in the system. My ex never followed the divorce decree, leaving me with a house entering foreclosure. He was already showing signs of failing to meet the requirements of his felony charge for bigamy (there’s currently a warrant for him). And, finally, it looked like the IRS could possibly, maybe provide some justice. It was a long shot; the majority of applicants for relief are turned down. But I was going to give it my best shot.

I printed out Form 8857, Request for Innocent Spouse Relief. I had to chuckle when they asked me for his current location and contact information; he could have been anywhere from Georgia to hell – I had no idea and didn’t want to know. I completed the form as best I could. But I didn’t stop there. The form only provided a laughable three lines to explain the circumstances. I attached around forty additional pages of background story. Essentially, I was trying to get them to see the whole picture.

I assembled anything I could to help them understand what happened. I included the papers about his felony charge, emails from him that ensnared him in lies, reports from the police, the divorce decree (which indicated his liability to assume the tax debt) and evidence of his lack of participation in its demands. I even threw in his mug shot for a little flavor. I felt like an attorney assembling a case. Which I pretty much was. By the end, I complied a 4″ stack which I sent to the IRS in a box.

And then I waited. Periodically, I would receive letters that they were considering the case. Then, about six months later, I received the letter that stated relief would be granted. He had 90 days to contest it and he never did. I don’t even know if they ever found him. Over the next few months, I received checks refunding the extra tax that I had paid and now the debt is firmly on his shoulders.

A side note: Georgia also has a state income tax. The process with them – from the initial letter demanding payment to the final granting of relief – has run about two years behind the federal case. Luckily, I did not have to mail a box to the state; they simply required the letters of relief from the IRS. I’m not sure how the other states handle this, but I would expect it is much the same.

From the IRS website, you are eligible for innocent spouse relief if you meet all of the following conditions:

You must have filed a joint return which has an understatement of tax;

The understatement of tax must be due to erroneous items of your spouse;

You must establish that at the time you signed the joint return, you did not know, and had no reason to know, that there was an understatement of tax;

Taking into account all of the facts and circumstances, it would be unfair to hold you liable for the understatement of tax

Here’s the IRS list (with all of the if-thens that make you feel like you’re reading code!) that helps you determine your eligibility. Just reading it makes my head hurt.

You must also file within certain time limits (this used to be two years but has since been lengthened and made more variable depending upon type of relief requested. The IRS considers many factors in deciding whether to award relief. From what I call tell, they are looking for evidence that the petitioning spouse had no knowledge of the erroneous information, has made changes to remove themselves from the situation and was a victim in some way or incapacitated during the marriage.

Here are the factors that I believe helped my case:

The divorce decree stated that he held the tax liability.
He was charged with a felony (unrelated to taxes, but still indicative of fraud and deception).
He demonstrated a history of deception, financial and otherwise.
He removed the financial files from the house.
I immediately paid the monies owed as soon as I found out about them.
He prepared the taxes.
I documented the emotional and financial impact that the divorce and associated problems had on me.
I provided the IRS with multiple pieces of evidence for each claim as well as a thorough description of the situation.
He failed to uphold the conditions of the divorce decree or the diversion granted in the criminal bigamy case.

Innocent spouse relief is not easy to obtain. Like anything with the IRS, there are confusing forms and rules that seem to be an endless shifting target. There are tax attorneys that feed on this and offer their services – at a steep price of course – to help you with your case. I never had that option nor do I expect most people requesting relief have those kinds of resources idly sitting around.

My suggestion? If you think you qualify, set aside a weekend to print the form and assemble your case. It may be time well spent. And, if you’re like me, receiving an official document that names you an “innocent spouse” can be worth more than the checks that follow.

To contact the Innocent Spouse Relief department:

1-855-851-2009

IRS

Innocent Spouse

Stop 840-F

PO Box 120053

Covington, KY 41012

The First Tears of the New Year

An Open Letter to the IRS

Marital Fraud: Questions Answered

Precipice

Posted on July 24, 2013 by stilllearning2b

Sleep has been elusive of late. I’ve struggled to fall asleep and then I find myself awake again far too soon. I’ve run my Kindle battery to zero every night for the past couple weeks. I’ve moved from bedroom to couch, either to escape Brock’s movements that seem to amplify when I can’t sleep or to avoid disturbing him with mine. I’ve resorted to Benadryl to try to force my brain to slumber, but my body just laughs it off.

It’s amazing (yet not surprising) how critical sleep is. When I am tired, everything feels insurmountable, from making decisions about the house to trying to compose an essay. My temper is short and my patience shorter.

I. Just. Want. To. Sleep.

When Brock comes in the bedroom to see me still reading or comes to check on me on the couch, he inquires, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

The short answer? I don’t know. I’ve never been a great sleeper and I’ve gone through periods where I struggled more with it than usual. Apart from the months after the divorce; however, I have not resorted to prescription sleep aids. Usually, it’s a phase. It seems like my body gets into the habit of sleeplessness and, like any habit, it can be hard to break.

The longer answer is that I am standing on the precipice of a time of great change. I know it’s coming, sooner rather than later. I can somewhat prepare but, no matter what, I cannot do enough now to make the near future any smoother.

I am in the last few precious days of my summer break before the whirlwind of the school year starts again. I just received word that Georgia has opted out of the assessment program that we have spent the last two years preparing for and there is talk of yet another curriculum overhaul. This means that the preparations that I did last year for the coming year are now null and void. I don’t know what I’m walking into next week.

We are set to move in the first couple weeks of September. I’m taking advantage of my time now to begin some packing but most of it will have to wait. Which, in a way that’s good as it says that we use most of the stuff that is in our house, but… it also means that the bulk of the packing will have to occur when I’m trying to acclimate to the new school year and Brock is consumed with some martial arts activities. Likewise, the needed purchases and updates can’t occur until after closing.

So, new school year with new assessments, new house and, let’s not forget, a new marriage all in the next couple months. All good things (okay, except maybe the new assessments), yet all change.

I think change can be easier when it comes in the form of a tsunami. You do not have the anxiety of anticipation nor the time to question it as it occurs. It just sweeps you up and carries you along as you struggle to simply keep your head above water.

Planned change can be harder. You have the illusion of control so it can be more difficult to simply let go. You can see it coming and foresee (and fabricate!) troubles that will come with it.

Right now, I feel like I should be taking action. I have time, something I will not have starting next week. However, that anticipation of the precipice is making action impossible since I cannot achieve the required rest.

I am going to do my best over the next few days to turn my back on the precipice, to not worry about what needs to be done or what may come up, and to simply be in my current moment.

Change is coming and maybe the best thing I can do to be prepared to give myself the gift of this moment. The edge will be here soon enough. Hopefully I can sleep without rolling over it.

Recalculating

Posted on January 10, 2013May 20, 2013 by stilllearning2b

Early April of 2010 was a strange time for me. My divorce had been finalized a few weeks before, I had given notice at my current school that I would not be returning the following year, I had just started falling for Brock and I was planning on moving to Seattle in June. I should have been in a panic. The life I was living had an expiration date. I didn’t know how I would make money or where I was going to live come June. I should have been scared of the unknown, especially since I am a planner by nature. Surprisingly, I was only slightly uncomfortable with the amorphous nature of my future. I think I was so relieved to have survived the divorce that I felt like I could accomplish anything.

I had been applying to school jobs online in the Seattle area, but I needed to visit the city in person to complete the background check needed to get my teaching certification in Washington. My friend and coworker, Carissa, was in a similar situation. She was ready to leave Georgia and wanted to move to the NW to go to graduate school. Like me, she had vague plans but nothing solidified. We decided to move against the spring break migratory patterns and visit Seattle that April. We planned on a combination of sightseeing and job hunting/ school searching while we stayed with my dad and his wife.

We rented a car and plugged in my GPS, which I packed since I had only been to Seattle once as adult (I was visiting Seattle the previous summer when I received the text that my husband had left). Now, if you are familiar with Seattle, you know there is an area through downtown where the interstate splits into 17 levels (okay, so maybe it’s more like 3, but it feels like 17). As Carissa and I were traversing that area in order to get from the airport to my dad’s house, the GPS instructed us to take a left turn from the top level where there was no place to turn. We ignored its command since we hadn’t taken out the extra rental insurance. A few moments later, the device announced, in a voice that sounded like a robot raised in Australia, “Recalculating.”

It became a common utterance of the GPS over the next week as we traveled around unknown areas. We laughed every time we heard that word and it became the theme of our week. I’m not sure if it was due to the excessive cloud cover in Seattle in the spring, our wrong turns, or divine providence, but I have never heard my GPS recalculate so much before or since. Carissa and I never became annoyed at the machine, we actually laughed harder each time it needed to recalculate. It wasn’t worth getting upset about. We trusted the GPS to get us there even if it took a different path than expected.

It was fitting, as Carissa and I were both recalculating ourselves during that trip. We went into the week with grand plans of interviews (for both) and university tours (for her). The reality? We went whale watching, took the underground tour, did the wineries, saw Vagina Monologues, listened to live music, visited the Pike St. market and hiked the foothills of the Cascades (every trip peppered with “recalculating”. We only made one future-related stop and that was to submit the fingerprints and other information for the background check in order to teach in Washington. Now, Carissa really wanted to take a break from teaching and become a full-time student. She was only applying as a back-up. Me? I had no desire to go back to school; I was applying to be able to bring in a paycheck.

Except I made the decision at the last minute not to complete the process.

My entire life, I have played it safe. I have always been conservative with career choices and money. I only took very calculated risks and generally only when I was okay regardless of the outcome. I’ve never been impulsive. I’m not one to fly by the seat of my pants. I am a planner to the nth degree. I find comfort and security in lists and spreadsheets.

But that week, I recalculated. I made the decision to put aside the plans (and, yes, spreadsheets) of the previous 8 months. I decided to shelve my preparations for a move to Seattle. I still don’t really know why I did it and I still can’t believe that I did. I chose to follow my instinct that spring rather than approach the situation more rationally. So, after traveling 3000 miles from Atlanta to look for employment in the NW, I started looking for Georgia jobs while seated on my father’s couch. Nuts? Absolutely. But, strangely, I felt calm about the decision.

Within a few weeks, I had a job in Atlanta lined up for the fall and I located an apartment. It’s a decision that I’ve never regretted but I still can’t fully understand. Yes, I had started seeing Brock, but that relationship was very young and we had no idea that it was going to persist. Honestly, at that time, I would have said that my need to escape from the memories of Atlanta was stronger than my feelings for Brock. So, why did I stay? What was it in that moment that allowed me to trust the GPS of my gut rather than the itinerary mapped out in my brain? I don’t know but I’m glad I listened.

It’s easy for us to try to fully plan our route through life. But sometimes, our vision becomes clouded or we make a wrong turn or divine providence intervenes and we have to recalculate. Sometimes we get upset when that happens. We want to get back on the planned route and continue the planned journey. We might get irritated at having our preparations interrupted.Yet, we never really know where a path will lead. Every journey has an element of faith. Sometimes we simply have to trust that a decision is the right one for us in the moment.

As a planner, I struggle with staying calm when things unexpectedly change. But now, when they do, I think back to that spring, Carissa and I laughing in the car, and my instinct leading me the right way. There’s nothing wrong with recalculating. Even if you traveled a long way to do it.

Now, if I could only go whale watching in Atlanta:)

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 3

Posted on December 12, 2012March 6, 2024 by stilllearning2b

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 1

Love After Divorce: Reflection on a Journey, Part 2

I was planning on moving in with Brock in June, once my lease had expired. Maddy, my elderly cat from my former life, moved in a bit early. I had asked Brock to look in on her while I was in San Antonio over spring break. He elected to go ahead and move her into his place. Brock had never owned a cat and wasn’t really a ‘cat person.’ Plus, we had Tiger to be concerned about. He is an amazing and very obedient dog that is not aggressive in the slightest, but he does outweigh Maddy by a good 90 pounds. Plus, at the time of her arrival into his home, he was still full of boundless (and clumsy) puppy energy.

Five Reasons My Cat is Smarter Than Me

Brock was amazing at orchestrating their introduction. He began by studying Cesar Millan’s recommendations for animal introductions, especially since Tiger had already been dog whispered. We brought Maddy over in her crate and set her on the floor. Brock used his body language to claim the cat as his while Tiger was allowed to sniff around. Maddy had known and loved dogs; she lived with 3 in our previous life. However, she was older and had also been traumatized by multiple moves and time spent around a growing baby. She was hesitant. But eventually, Brock and Tiger both won her over. She is now more social and less fearful than she has ever been. She has learned how to relax and trust others. Some parallels with her momma, perhaps? 🙂

Brock and I sometimes get irritable with each other. We get frustrated and occasionally feel misunderstood. This doesn’t happen often. (And, when it does, it’s usually about me feeling overwhelmed. Go figure.) We always work through the issues. It takes some time. I usually have to release some emotion first and it takes him time to find the right words. But eventually we get there.

He is a fire building machine - a great asset on camping trips! — He is a fire building machine – a great asset on camping trips!

It’s strange. Now that I know that a disagreement doesn’t mean he’s about to walk out the door, I like them. No, that doesn’t mean that I like to argue. I don’t; it’s not my nature. What I like is that it feels real. My ex and I didn’t agree on everything, but we rarely had to deliberately and methodically work things out. In retrospect, I think he actively avoided conflict and, with my anxiety, I was all too happy not to rock the boat. I have had to learn all over again to speak up when I need to and to be prepared to work it all the way through. I also have learned from Brock’s humility; he is always ready to admit when he is wrong or doesn’t know something. He has helped me see the world through the eyes of a constant learner, leaving my ego checked at the door.

Pardon Me Ego, I Need to Get Through

I am happier now than I ever have been. I don’t have the paralyzing fear of losing Brock like I did my ex. I’m secure in my attachment. I am more aware of our “individualness” within the partnership. I said about my ex,

“He had become fully enmeshed in my existence. Teasing the strings of him out of me would take time and a patient hand. I needed to find out where he ends and I begin.”

I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way again. I don’t if that is good or bad, but it is. That individuality is what creates some of the conflict, but it also means that we are each healthy and functional in are own rights. I feel like we are both conscious in our decisions and our choices. We are together because we want to be together, not because we are afraid to be apart. And that feels amazing.

It's difficult to see in the lighting, but these are two trees that have grown together at points. — It’s difficult to see in the lighting, but these are two trees that have grown together at points.

What Set Theory Can Teach Us About Marriage

It’s been interesting during the progression of our entire relationship – I went from acting married with short-term dates (not intentionally, it was just what I was used to) to being a step behind Brock during our courtship. He said, “I love you” first, he started using “our” first, and he was the one to initiate a real talk about marriage first. I am so thankful that we moved slowly. Too fast and he would have probably shut down and I would not have had the needed time to heal and move forward myself. It has been great to enjoy each stage without worrying about what the next has to offer.

Flowers in the Vitamix. That's how we roll:) — Flowers in the Vitamix. That’s how we roll:)

We had talked about marriage, more in the abstract than anything, at various points throughout our relationship. Neither one of us felt a strong need to legalize our relationship. We had no internal or external pressure to wed. We had been exclusive and committed for years. We shared a home and a joint account for home expenses (don’t worry – I still have my own separate accounts too:) ). I could tell that Brock was wanting more. We completed paperwork to give the other the power to make medical decisions. We became emergency contacts and beneficiaries. But still, he felt like there was more.

Removing the “Re”

Last August, we were visiting friends on the Georgia coast. (Let’s Go On An Adventure) We took a day trip over to Cumberland Island. While we were walking along the deserted dunes together, he asked, “Would you ever want to get married again?” I pulled a Lisa and gave him a non-answer, talking about how I wasn’t opposed to marriage and I had liked being married, etc., etc. He asked again. I said the same things. He asked a third time. By this time, we were spread out on the beach on our respective towels. I turned towards him, realization finally breaking through my defenses.

“Yes, I would.”

“Good,” he replied, “because I already made an appointment to go look at rings.”

The note that appeared on my desk a few days later.

I could have chosen to stay walled off. I could have decided to never risk love again. But life on those terms isn’t worth it to me. I’d rather love again and risk the loss than live with the certainty of being alone. I’m ready to embrace love with all its beautiful imperfections and glorious uncertainties. I choose to love.

With my ex, cohabitation, engagement, and marriage all felt about the same. That’s not the case this time. Mainly because of how it has impacted Brock – he has been much more vulnerable and open since that day. He never thought he would get married and, now that it is going to happen, he is able to relax more and reveal more. As for me? It just feels right. I love this man and I want that known. I love how we challenge each other and encourage the other to learn and grow. We have both learned from our pasts and have made different choices this time around. I do want to be married again. This time for real.

Tamely = team + familyThe memory card is already full of our adventures and I look forward to adding many more! — Tamely = team + family
The memory card is already full of our adventures and I look forward to adding many more!

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