Thursday, January 28, 2010

Chapter Seven of Making Lemonade A Spiritual Journey Through Pain and Divorce

Baptismal of the Phone

Results of planning our last Thanksgiving dinner together turned out much differently than I thought. I was so tired of my husband calling her while he went to and from work and late at night when he thought I was sleeping. My anger got the best of me.

Two days before Thanksgiving, I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of breaking his precious cell phone consumed me until I gave in. I crept out of bed and went into the guest bathroom where I ran it under water until the screen went blank, dried it off and went back to bed.

Okay, this wasn’t the most “Christian” thing to do, but I was sick of him cheating. I was sick of her. I was sick of his lies he told me before he was leaving me. To me, the phone represented his infidelity, and I wanted to kill it. Many mistakes were made on my part during this time and during the marriage. It takes two to keep a marriage, as well as cause a divorce.

The next morning he discovered what I had done. Apparently, I didn’t dry off the phone as well as I thought, and he came into the bedroom enraged. Pulling the covers off me, he told me that I better have his phone replaced by the time he got home. I still had to live there until I finished school, so I did as I was instructed. That night he began sleeping in the guest room with the door locked.

We had turkey dinner, but no movie played. No conversation filled the room. Hatred seethed from him in waves. Not the hottest day in Hell could melt the igloo that was now my home.

Two days later, he flew out to see her for a week. Unbeknownst to me, he cleared out our bank account. I had gone for a massage for my birthday present, which he endorsed, and discovered my credit card had been cancelled, and I didn’t have any money in checking. Embarrassment and panic spread across my face. How was I going to pay for my service? How was I going to pay my bills that were scheduled? How was I going to eat until he came home? I promised him that I would never clear out the account. He could trust me. My sincerity backfired.

Racing home, I called him. He didn’t answer. Reluctantly, I called her. She didn’t answer either. I left messages for both of them, then called his mother, who was angry at his actions and said she would take care of it.

That afternoon I went to the mailbox and found a birthday card from his mother with a check enclosed. I knew it was God covering me because every year she was late giving me my cards. This year, it came early. The next day, his paycheck was deposited into the account, and I could pay my bills on time.

Finally, he called me. Although I was angry, I spoke to him in a calm manner, explaining the situation he put me in, and he said he would transfer the money back into the account when he came back, provided I take my name off the account and sign the Quit-Claim Deed. I reluctantly agreed.

Friday he returned. He took me out to dinner for my birthday. We apologized to each other for Thanksgiving. The next day, however, wasn’t so great. I was having a difficult time with my emotions and with the agreement on the bank account. It put him in total control and me without money. It also aggravated me that I was signing over my rights to my home.

While Steve went over the deal with the Quit-Claim Deed, I was taking out money and removing my name from the account. Agitated, I sat at the desk and let the tears flow. The lady started laughing at me. Not sure what my husband told her, I took the paper and as I signed it, I said, “You know he cheated on me? Now he’s taking my house away and all you can do is laugh at me?”

She continued laughing as they made eye contact. I wanted to jump across the desk and make her eat her smirk. How could she laugh at someone’s pain like that? How could that bank be so rude?

I cried on the couch. He filled out the divorce papers.

Happy Birthday.

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