Every time I think I’ve had one of the hardest days of my life, or hit the biggest speedbump, I can be sure that there is another larger, bumpier and sharper one up ahead. It’s good to have this mindset because life is definitely a journey, and it’s not always smooth.
Ever heard of collaborative divorce? Now you have.
Mike and I had our first meeting with a “divorce coach” this morning. If we proceed down the collaborative path, she will be our main point of contact. Involved in the collaborative process will be a child specialist, a financial analyst, and two lawyers trained in the collaborative approach.
I could go into the details of how it’s supposed to work, but I’m really quite raw and very tired from this morning and I don’t feel like it. If you’re curious you can read all about it at the link above. One thing I came away from the meeting with: if divorce is a shit sundae, collaborative divorce is a scoop of ice cream with shit sprinkles. It puts the family first, especially the kids, and contractually binds you to negotiate the terms of the divorce in the most reasonable way possible. There were a lot of tears during the meeting. There’s nothing like saying the words outloud to make reality set in and force you to face what you may have been avoiding. It was not easy and it was more than a little bit heart-wrenching, but we took that first step and it was a doozy.
Someone once remarked to me that ending a relationship is a series of tiny steps. The doubt in your head, the acknowledgement of issues between you, the first vocalization that something is not right - they are all tiny steps in one direction. Sometimes they can be repaired and turned back. Sometimes they can’t.
After all the head shaking and confused looks we’ve gotten after explanation how we are doing our separation, it was very validating to be commended by the divorce coach. She commended us for truly putting the kids first even though she can tell we are both suffering from our living situation. For those who aren’t aware, the girls stay put in our house and the parental units rotate in and out of it. We rent a small room about 25 minutes away from here where we stay on alternating weeks. It is difficult even at its best; for Mike who hates change in any shape or form, it’s incredibly difficult. She also told us that if the kids are still not acting out in school, we are doing something right. The Child Specialist will help us to determine how they are actually doing and suggest therapists for them if it comes to that. In the meantime we try to be open with them, answer the questions we are asked, and reassure them that we love the hell out of them.
Divorce is a terribly sad thing, no matter what. Mike and I still remain calm and mostly quiet with each other. It makes it worse. Neither of us seems to want to fight about things - at least not yet - and that makes it worse. There is no anger to propel me forward. I’m sure there will be on his side, sooner rather than later, but I just have a large empty hole of sadness and it makes me want to take very long naps.
This whole process will be draining, financially and emotionally. It adds another layer of guilt onto a sandwich that is already piled precariously high with guilt meat and mustard and shamed lettuce and pickles. This process is going to be expensive. The divorce coach and child specialist run around $175/hour. The lawyers require retainers. If we both end up with a divorce coach instead of using one, it will be twice as much. The financial analyst takes a retainer too. Emotionally the costs are not countable, at least not now. We fumble toward some resolution, mostly in the dark, trying not to fall down.
