Monday, November 7, 2022, this showed up in my emails from the courts:
My obvious question was “What above case?” since nothing was above these words.
I was, however, clearly told what to wear when I show up. I’ve attached the inclusion at the end of my brief notice, in case you are curious. (Yes, it is an eye-roll moment).
I bit the bullet and sent my attorney an email, knowing that as soon as I hit send, it became a financial investment. I guess by this point, I should know how much he charges to read my emails, but … it really doesn’t matter. My hands are tied and I need to know why I’m being told to show up in court. My attorney informed me the judge needed to reschedule our original court date of Dec 5, 2022, to Jan 20, 2023. And if you are wondering, no, no decision from our judge. Day 82. (You can follow my journey beginning HERE: Truth Series: ME)
I can feel stress creeping into my body. It usually starts with my jaw clenching, followed by a trauma headache piercing my forehead over my right eye, and my apple watch pings at me to breathe. Again, I’m watching my life tossed about by another unresponsive, and apparently, uninterested judge.
August 23, 2022- the day I met this judge. I actually had hope. I really did. I don’t know if she understands what it feels like to have zero power in the system.
My patience is manipulated;
My dedication to the financial stability of my children is ignored;
My schedule is taken for granted.
I sat in front of her, that Tuesday in August, and she looked at us (myself, my attorney, my ex, and his attorney). She said she understood. She said she’d be prompt. We all agreed that December 5 worked in our schedule… she seemed so eager to accommodate all of us.
Now, I find myself questioning the experience. It is a fight against gaslighting my memory- changing my reality to match what makes sense… when nothing makes sense. It’s like a purgatory I can’t escape. My stomach hurts. I’m really, really sad. I’m just one woman, one mother, one betrayed partner among thousands being beaten up by the family court system.
I’m not hopeful.
I am a survivor. I know God has me in a place working with a population of women who need to figure out how to survive this endless, bleak hole.
I will not be destroyed by a “family” court system turning it’s back on me.
I will not be ignored by a “family” court system determined to put me in an insane asylum.
I will rise to the challenge of fighting for justice.
I will pick myself up today after I give myself the gift of grieving in isolation.
I will put on the smile that prefers to settle on my face, let it penetrate my soul, and reignite my unremitting desire to walk through life with joy.
There is a bit of an upside to the delay of our court date- this will be the first time in 4 years I will not be in court in December. That gift lets me smile.