One of the loose ends I've been wanting to tie up is saying a proper goodbye to my stepdaughter Jordan.
I loved her as if she were my own. And she was very easy to love because she was just such an adorable and pleasant little girl.
So it broke my heart that I didn't get the chance to let her know even though things didn't work out between me and her father, I will always hold her in a special place in my heart.
The last time I saw Simon face to face was before Christmas (see post "Wreckage Part III"), and I had asked him what he had told Jordan about our separation. The answer of course, was nothing because Simon has no clue about reality, let alone child rearing.
I couldn't put my finger on why this has been bothering me so much, to the point where I was starting to obsess about it. A session with my therapist shed some much needed light on this subject. Did I mention how much I am loving therapy?
As I was explaining the situation to my therapist, I started to cry pretty hard about it. I don't think I've cried that hard in a session since just after having thrown Simon out. The last time I saw Jordan, I told her I'd see her again real soon. And then poof, I vanished and Simon did nothing to explain why.
I made the connection to my mother's death, and how I've had zero closure with that. The last time I saw my mother alive was probably about a week before she passed away. I remember crying really hard, not wanting to leave her. She hugged and kissed me and promised she'd see me again real soon. And then poof, she vanished. I wasn't allowed to go to the funeral (neither did my brothers). I never got to see her again to have a final goodbye.
I remember for years after her death thinking it was all a mistake. After all, she had promised she'd see me again real soon. And my mom would never lie to me.
I didn't want what happened to me to happen to Jordan. Obviously I'm not her mother. And obviously I'm not on her top 10 list of most important people. But she was a loving little girl who bonded to me very quickly and I just didn't want her to be confused.
My therapist asked me what it was I wanted to do to bring me some closure. I told her that I wanted to write to Gillian, Jordan's mother, and simply say that I would have liked to have said goodbye in person. Since the circumstances didn't allow for me to do that, I wanted Gillian to at least explain to Jordan that I am saying goodbye.
So with my therapist's blessing, I sent an email to Gillian. Here it is, with the response I received.
To: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 5:21 PM
Subject: Loose Ends
Hi Gillian,
I'm not sure what Simon has told you, but he and I have been separated since July. I served him with divorce papers this past Monday. The whole thing should be finalized by the summer.
I wanted to let you know that I think of Jordan often. You have an amazing little girl who is so sweet and smart. You have done a fantastic job bringing her up.
I never got a chance to say goodbye to Jordan in person, and that has been a loose end I've wanted to tie up. So I thought I would just send you this email and if you feel it is appropriate, please let her know that she has and always will have a special place in my heart.
I wish you, Jordan, Jeff and your baby boy all the happiness in world.
From: Gillian <*******@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, Feb 22, 2008 at 7:17 PM
Subject: RE: Loose Ends
Hi.
I did actually know you were separated. I'm sorry things didn't work out. Jordan was upset when she heard and she still talks about you a lot. Trust me, I know how special she is! :)
Thank you for saying I had anything to do with that; she's just a super special little thing. I definitely will tell her - actually I will show her this email so she will know. I can tell you in advance that she will be very happy to hear from you.
Thanks, and the best to you too. Onwards and upwards!
gillian
In the moment it took me to read her response, I experienced something which I have never experienced before - closure.
Closure is peaceful, kind, quiet and light. I am grateful for this gift that Gillian has given me.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
08-FD-336102 - Part I
I am really glad that I had my Divorce Twin with me when I filed for divorce. It was a weird and unorganized building, with weird and unorganized people. I know the government has a bad rep for being totally ass-backwards, but for some reason I thought that was just a misconception perpetuated by people for whom the system did not smile down in their favour. I was wrong. The whole damn place was a disaster and it's no wonder why people constantly curse how our tax dollars are being spent.
We came off the elevator onto the 10th floor of 393 University Ave. There weren't any clear labels as to where we were. Just a big bulletin board with a ton of paper tacked to it. We looked to the right, and then to the left, and then down to our forms to make sure we got the right floor. Yup, 10th floor. We decided to go to the left.
A big mess of cubicles with a bunch of people meandering aimlessly was the scene we were met with. DT and I looked at each other and were both thinking the same thing - there is no way THIS is an official courthouse. We went back into the hallway to see if we had missed something, like a worm hole to get us out of there. No such luck.
We went back into the maze and saw a sign that said we were to get a number, with an arrow pointing to the left. So we look to the left. And all we see are more messy cubicles with more confused people wandering around. There was nothing indicating where we were to get a number.
I finally noticed a sign that said "Information" hanging over a desk that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the messy cubicles and wandering people. There were several stanchions around the desk, but they weren't placed in a manner which indicated where the line was to form. So we stood at the end of the stanchions, where we believed the line was to start. There was a man already at the desk speaking with the attendant. So we waited.
The attendant behind the desk waved us over. "How can I help you?" I say, "We're here to file for divorce." He looked up at the both of us, with a quizzical look on his face. DT piped up with, "Not from each other!" The lady behind us started laughing her head off.
He took a look at our forms and told us we would need to make copies, and gave us each a number. He pointed us in the direction of the copy room. It turns out that the government charges you FIFTY CENTS PER PAGE to use their shitty old photocopiers. If the stupid website had said anything about needing an extra copy, I would have just made it at work for FREE. Geez.
After spending $5 between the two of us, we went back into the crazy room and took a seat. It wasn't too long before my number came up and I made my way over to one of the messy cubicles.
The lady there looked like a pleasant woman. She said hello and asked me what I was there for. I said, "I'm filing for divorce." Now, I don't know what I was expecting her response to be, as I'm sure she deals with thousands of filings a year. But I was expecting something. I'm a young, nice looking girl. I would think a simple "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" would have sufficed. But she said nothing.
She took my papers and started typing, typing, typing. She had a fan turned on, it was set up just behind her monitor. My papers kept getting caught up in the breeze. Type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type. It was amusing at first. I wondered how long she would continue to just let the papers blow away. Then it got annoying. What should have taken her maybe 5 minutes had turned into 10 minutes because she had to stop every 10 seconds to keep my papers from flying away.
I wanted to scream "JUST ANGLE THE FUCKING FAN TWO MILLIMETERS TO THE LEFT" but instead, I looked around at the chaos behind the cubicles. One word sums it up - PAPER. Piles of paper everywhere. I'm sure to the untrained, non governmental eye it looks like a mess. But to those who have pledged their lives to making our legal system the fine bureaucratic machine it is, I was in fact looking at the most advanced filing system on the planet. Yeah right. After the lady finished playing blow and catch with my paperwork, she wrote a case number on it, signed it, stamped it, sealed it and asked me for payment. It cost me $167 (GST included!) for all that nonsense. She told me to go back to the information desk to be given instructions on what the next steps are.
We came off the elevator onto the 10th floor of 393 University Ave. There weren't any clear labels as to where we were. Just a big bulletin board with a ton of paper tacked to it. We looked to the right, and then to the left, and then down to our forms to make sure we got the right floor. Yup, 10th floor. We decided to go to the left.
A big mess of cubicles with a bunch of people meandering aimlessly was the scene we were met with. DT and I looked at each other and were both thinking the same thing - there is no way THIS is an official courthouse. We went back into the hallway to see if we had missed something, like a worm hole to get us out of there. No such luck.
We went back into the maze and saw a sign that said we were to get a number, with an arrow pointing to the left. So we look to the left. And all we see are more messy cubicles with more confused people wandering around. There was nothing indicating where we were to get a number.
I finally noticed a sign that said "Information" hanging over a desk that was placed haphazardly in the middle of the messy cubicles and wandering people. There were several stanchions around the desk, but they weren't placed in a manner which indicated where the line was to form. So we stood at the end of the stanchions, where we believed the line was to start. There was a man already at the desk speaking with the attendant. So we waited.
The attendant behind the desk waved us over. "How can I help you?" I say, "We're here to file for divorce." He looked up at the both of us, with a quizzical look on his face. DT piped up with, "Not from each other!" The lady behind us started laughing her head off.
He took a look at our forms and told us we would need to make copies, and gave us each a number. He pointed us in the direction of the copy room. It turns out that the government charges you FIFTY CENTS PER PAGE to use their shitty old photocopiers. If the stupid website had said anything about needing an extra copy, I would have just made it at work for FREE. Geez.
After spending $5 between the two of us, we went back into the crazy room and took a seat. It wasn't too long before my number came up and I made my way over to one of the messy cubicles.
The lady there looked like a pleasant woman. She said hello and asked me what I was there for. I said, "I'm filing for divorce." Now, I don't know what I was expecting her response to be, as I'm sure she deals with thousands of filings a year. But I was expecting something. I'm a young, nice looking girl. I would think a simple "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" would have sufficed. But she said nothing.
She took my papers and started typing, typing, typing. She had a fan turned on, it was set up just behind her monitor. My papers kept getting caught up in the breeze. Type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type, paper blowing, catch, type, type. It was amusing at first. I wondered how long she would continue to just let the papers blow away. Then it got annoying. What should have taken her maybe 5 minutes had turned into 10 minutes because she had to stop every 10 seconds to keep my papers from flying away.
I wanted to scream "JUST ANGLE THE FUCKING FAN TWO MILLIMETERS TO THE LEFT" but instead, I looked around at the chaos behind the cubicles. One word sums it up - PAPER. Piles of paper everywhere. I'm sure to the untrained, non governmental eye it looks like a mess. But to those who have pledged their lives to making our legal system the fine bureaucratic machine it is, I was in fact looking at the most advanced filing system on the planet. Yeah right. After the lady finished playing blow and catch with my paperwork, she wrote a case number on it, signed it, stamped it, sealed it and asked me for payment. It cost me $167 (GST included!) for all that nonsense. She told me to go back to the information desk to be given instructions on what the next steps are.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
File file file
So a few posts ago I had made the decision that I wasn't going to file for divorce. Well, I've changed my mind.
I kept reading that nasty little email Simon sent me for my birthday and the part where he said, "I'm still your husband so respect me" has raised more than a few alarm bells in my head.
I've dreamt about him every night this past week. In all of those dreams, he's come back to me and he's 100% normal. Also, I remember thinking to myself, thank goodness we got back together again and worked everything out.
I guess a small part of me still really hopes that someday he'll come knock on my door and tell me that he's changed, he's fixed it all, and he'll never abuse me again.
My DT is filing tomorrow and she's been encouraging me to do the same. When we talk on the phone, she'll randomly whisper "File, file, file" at the end of sentences. She's so hilarious - I thank my lucky stars I have a funny DT.
Today she called me to see if I could come with her to the court house tomorrow. (Of course) She slipped in another not-so-subliminal "File" message.
That, coupled with the stupid birthday email and crazy dreams, made me stop for a moment and really think about it again.
I was trying to get him to take responsibility for something in the marriage, hence leaving the divorce up to him. However the fact of the matter is, if he were the responsible type, we wouldn't be getting a divorce.
So folks, tomorrow is D-Day for me. Let the death of my marriage finally begin.
I kept reading that nasty little email Simon sent me for my birthday and the part where he said, "I'm still your husband so respect me" has raised more than a few alarm bells in my head.
I've dreamt about him every night this past week. In all of those dreams, he's come back to me and he's 100% normal. Also, I remember thinking to myself, thank goodness we got back together again and worked everything out.
I guess a small part of me still really hopes that someday he'll come knock on my door and tell me that he's changed, he's fixed it all, and he'll never abuse me again.
My DT is filing tomorrow and she's been encouraging me to do the same. When we talk on the phone, she'll randomly whisper "File, file, file" at the end of sentences. She's so hilarious - I thank my lucky stars I have a funny DT.
Today she called me to see if I could come with her to the court house tomorrow. (Of course) She slipped in another not-so-subliminal "File" message.
That, coupled with the stupid birthday email and crazy dreams, made me stop for a moment and really think about it again.
I was trying to get him to take responsibility for something in the marriage, hence leaving the divorce up to him. However the fact of the matter is, if he were the responsible type, we wouldn't be getting a divorce.
So folks, tomorrow is D-Day for me. Let the death of my marriage finally begin.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Done Over
My birthday party was a super duper SUCCESS!! Everything happened the way it should have happened 2 years ago.
I had 30 of my friends and family help me celebrate the end of a craptastic year, and the beginning of a bright and shiny new one.
Thank you to everyone who helped make this birthday a memory that will be treasured forever.
I had 30 of my friends and family help me celebrate the end of a craptastic year, and the beginning of a bright and shiny new one.
Thank you to everyone who helped make this birthday a memory that will be treasured forever.
Friday, February 08, 2008
WTF
This speaks for itself. A small mark on an otherwise perfectly lovely birthday. My apologies (always) for the grammatical horrors.
From: Simon <***********@gmail.com>
Date: Feb 8, 2008 6:01 PM
Subject: happy birthday
even though you like to put me down and bash me behind my back,im still the bigger person.
please take [down] those disgusting comments of me even if its true or not..thats not right..(THE BOWLING NIGHT EVENT)
im still your husband so respect me...ppl have asked me what happened and i just said it didnt work out..do you want me to say to ppl that you were a prude or disfuctional in relationships and bossy, and maybe a person that likes to be center of attention, just because she had a bad childhood.
no i wouldnt do that..actually quite often i think about you like today so dont be a bitch.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY...AND STOP BEING NASTY OK!!!!
THATS HALF THE REASON WHY I LEFT YOU!!!!
SO NO MORE BASHING ME PLZ...be an adult you are a year older act it.
From: Simon <***********@gmail.com>
Date: Feb 8, 2008 6:01 PM
Subject: happy birthday
even though you like to put me down and bash me behind my back,im still the bigger person.
please take [down] those disgusting comments of me even if its true or not..thats not right..(THE BOWLING NIGHT EVENT)
im still your husband so respect me...ppl have asked me what happened and i just said it didnt work out..do you want me to say to ppl that you were a prude or disfuctional in relationships and bossy, and maybe a person that likes to be center of attention, just because she had a bad childhood.
no i wouldnt do that..actually quite often i think about you like today so dont be a bitch.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY...AND STOP BEING NASTY OK!!!!
THATS HALF THE REASON WHY I LEFT YOU!!!!
SO NO MORE BASHING ME PLZ...be an adult you are a year older act it.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Rosie
This post has nothing to do with my marriage. However, it's exciting for me, so I thought I would share it with you all.
I am a devout Rosie O'Donnell fan. I have watched and read everything she has done. Including her now very famous blog at http://www.rosie.com/.
She has a feature called "Ask Ro", where you can submit one question daily. I of course have done this many times without any response. Usually someone else asks a similar question and gets answered, so I indirectly get an answer. Never my question, until TODAY! WHOO HOO. And a day before my birthday too. How cool is that?
Here's a picture of her blog's updated status:
I am a devout Rosie O'Donnell fan. I have watched and read everything she has done. Including her now very famous blog at http://www.rosie.com/.
She has a feature called "Ask Ro", where you can submit one question daily. I of course have done this many times without any response. Usually someone else asks a similar question and gets answered, so I indirectly get an answer. Never my question, until TODAY! WHOO HOO. And a day before my birthday too. How cool is that?
Here's a picture of her blog's updated status:
Here's a picture I saw of Rosie today:
And here's the question and answer about this picture:
Here's the permalink: http://www.rosie.com/blog/2008/02/07/ask-ro/ My question is the 12th one down from the top.
YAY!!
Monday, February 04, 2008
Labels
I am an email pack rat. Usually I just leave them in my inbox. I hate deleting them because I have found that more often than not, I need to reference an email. Sometimes even up to a few years after I received it.
Gmail has a bunch of handy features, my favourite being labels. Instead of creating folders to file away your emails, you just apply a label to it and then a single click will archive it. So anytime you need to find something, you just click on a label and it will pull up all the emails you've tagged. With Gmail labels, they exist as links on the left hand menu of your webmail view. I never thought twice about them until I started dating Simon.
He had this wicked habit of looking over my shoulder whenever I would check my Gmail, to see what had come into my inbox since the last time he snooped. He would ask a million insane questions and we would get into horrible fights. I started making sure to quickly slap a label on any new emails and then immediately archive, thus getting messages out of my inbox.
Then Simon noticed my label menu. Of course, that lead to him asking what the labels are for and to see the emails associated with each label. So I found a feature that could hide those too. So when he would look over my shoulder he saw nothing, no labels on the menu and nothing in my inbox.
We got into many screaming matches about my Gmail. He was convinced that I was hiding things from him since my inbox was always cleaned out and he couldn't see the labels anymore. He wanted full access to my email accounts. I was, and always will be adament about the fact that just because I was married to him, it didn't mean I had to give up my privacy.
It's taken me until now to bring back the label links on the side menu. The reason being that I was waiting for a package from Linens'N'Things. The tracking info was in an email which I had labelled and archived. It was getting annoying having to type the label into the search function every time I wanted to track my package. On the 28th time doing this, I remembered that I could just have my labels showing.
So I've turned them back on. And for the last week or so, I freak out when I log into my Gmail. I keep thinking that any moment, Simon will come around the corner, see my labels and start screaming at me.
I still have a long way to go to shake off the shackles of panic.
Gmail has a bunch of handy features, my favourite being labels. Instead of creating folders to file away your emails, you just apply a label to it and then a single click will archive it. So anytime you need to find something, you just click on a label and it will pull up all the emails you've tagged. With Gmail labels, they exist as links on the left hand menu of your webmail view. I never thought twice about them until I started dating Simon.
He had this wicked habit of looking over my shoulder whenever I would check my Gmail, to see what had come into my inbox since the last time he snooped. He would ask a million insane questions and we would get into horrible fights. I started making sure to quickly slap a label on any new emails and then immediately archive, thus getting messages out of my inbox.
Then Simon noticed my label menu. Of course, that lead to him asking what the labels are for and to see the emails associated with each label. So I found a feature that could hide those too. So when he would look over my shoulder he saw nothing, no labels on the menu and nothing in my inbox.
We got into many screaming matches about my Gmail. He was convinced that I was hiding things from him since my inbox was always cleaned out and he couldn't see the labels anymore. He wanted full access to my email accounts. I was, and always will be adament about the fact that just because I was married to him, it didn't mean I had to give up my privacy.
It's taken me until now to bring back the label links on the side menu. The reason being that I was waiting for a package from Linens'N'Things. The tracking info was in an email which I had labelled and archived. It was getting annoying having to type the label into the search function every time I wanted to track my package. On the 28th time doing this, I remembered that I could just have my labels showing.
So I've turned them back on. And for the last week or so, I freak out when I log into my Gmail. I keep thinking that any moment, Simon will come around the corner, see my labels and start screaming at me.
I still have a long way to go to shake off the shackles of panic.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Ancient Irony
A friend of mine did a Google search on my last name and sent me an excerpt of how my last name may have been derived from the name of a musical instrument at some point in its history. Which is cool as I'm a singer, and anything that connects me more to music is super awesome in my books.
The general meaning of my last name is to "shake hands in peace". I never even thought to look to see if there were any other meanings.
So I went to the link my friend had found and read up on where my last name may have originated. And much to my horror, I found this:
"...may also be derived from the Semitic (Arabic and Hebrew) 'sami' meaning 'to hear' and in fact the root word of the personal name Simon or Shimon."
Irony is an evil thing. I may have to go find this historian and hit him in the head with my separation agreement. :P
The general meaning of my last name is to "shake hands in peace". I never even thought to look to see if there were any other meanings.
So I went to the link my friend had found and read up on where my last name may have originated. And much to my horror, I found this:
"...may also be derived from the Semitic (Arabic and Hebrew) 'sami' meaning 'to hear' and in fact the root word of the personal name Simon or Shimon."
Irony is an evil thing. I may have to go find this historian and hit him in the head with my separation agreement. :P
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