The Tables Were Turning


Hiring my new attorney escalated my circumstances in many ways.

Some good… and some not so good! (That’s putting things extremely nicely.)

On the positive side, my counsel got the ball rolling to move our divorce forward. Very quickly, a trial date was set.  Dick was served with financial subpoenas. A deposition date was arranged.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was gaining control over the situation and the outcome could turn out positive for me.

Even the  hairs on the back of my neck were excited to finally take a break from endlessly standing on end and were relieved that they could  get some much-needed rest.

Ahhh. … life was looking pretty good!

This divorce thing — piece of cake! No big deal!

I am woman, hear me roar!

While starting to bask in the glow of  my new-found confidence and self-esteem,  it became clear quite quickly that the celebration, though thoroughly satisfying and well-deserved, was to be short-lived.

Well — it was definitely fun while it lasted.

Seriously though, did I believe for one iota of a second that Dick would accept all of the new demands, requirements and deadlines without lashing out in one way or another?

A girl could only hope and dream!

At the time, who knew that hoping and dreaming were the best things I had going for me.

Because at that point, there was no way I could have predicted, prepared myself for, anticipated or imagined in my darkest nightmare, the hell that Dick was about to unleash in my life.



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