Cabin Fever

Whoa, time flies, wish I could say I've been having fun... Been plodding along with post decree enforcement of orders and contemplating strategy for the next lawsuit in a few weeks...

Things are moving slowly, it could be the 90 degree summer days, but its more likely chronic cabin fever, the culmination of too many years, YES YEARS of uninterrupted caustic divorce irritation eating at my mind and emotion like a cancer.

The key is uninterrupted... Everyone outside the US understands the need for a Holiday (vacation) to recharge. We fail to grasp that simple fact in the US. This divorce just makes it all the worse.

For the entire litigation (over 2 years) with its constant threats, demands, case management needs, court appearances, I had no time to leave town. Not only did I quickly use up all vacation and sick days, I took a fair amount of "unpaid personal time" off. So much so that my company started questioning whether I was a full time employee. How could that be, well there was the two weeks tracking down my son's kidnapping in 2005, 35 scheduled court appearances, 10 scheduled days of trial, each with a similar amount of time before and after for prep and response. Just to emphasize the ridiculous the month of May 2007 I spent 3 full days per week, every week. on the divorce, by court order, that my ex was excused from, to finalize the case, mainly due to the oppositions legal game maneuvers, which still go on today three months after the final decree. One of those three days per week was spent in the court house.

So OK, two years high stress, no vacation, BFD (big fuckin deal), we've all done that, well higher... The last vacation was summer 2004. OK, three years, still BFD. Let me tell you about the last "family" vacation. I think my son enjoyed the trip to Orlando at almost 5. He went to DisneyLand of course, saw Aligators, Cape Canerival, rode in an air boat, almost got a ride in a swamp buggy. Somewhere I have the last "family portrait" taken at a returant of the three of us. So why whine, that sounds great.

It was pure torture for me, not just because I knew this would never be again, but because of my ex's constant and cruel taunting every fuckin chance she could get like a Chinese water torture designed to drive you insane. And it was no accident, nothing my ex does ever is, she is cold and calculating - literally - earning her one of my very few epitaphs of bitch.

Before, during, and after this "vacation" came the constant taunts, "Should we do the divorce before the vacation and get it over with", "Well as soon as we get back", every conceivable variation at every opportunity. Imagine when I'm standing in her cousin's kitchen who is a fundamentalist Christian who wanted our two families to join hands in a circle to recite a prayer of thanks to the Lord for bringing the two "families" together on this occasion. She was sincere, she didn't know, I bore no malice to this sweet inlaw who I knew and visited before on my several business trips to the area. No, but my wife joining hands and hypocritically praying to God about our "family" that she had all desire and intention of destroying was almost too much to bear. I half expected a bolt of lightening to come down and strike the bitch dead where she stood, and I secretly prayed that it would strike me dead and put me out of my misery. That's a vacation? JFSM!

Well let's go back another year, summer of 2003, four years ago. That was a real family vacation. No divorce talk, no taunting. My nearly 4 year old son pronounced Niagara in an interesting way. It was so funny, but has faded from my mind. He loved the Falls, he marveled at the power and majesty of them. He noticed everything about the trip, even the "Muffin Lady" who served breakfast muffin's every morning. He was and still is big for his age, he just made the height to go on the Hurricane deck. It is a daunting experience that has a bypass ramp that even some adults use as they near the power of the Falls. But like the brave trooper he is, he walked ahead right up to the closest point, water crashing down all around. I watched him closely, wondering if he was scared frozen or OK... After a few moments, he mater of factly said "We can go now". That moment sticks with me, my brave and wonderful son.

That was my last real break, 4 years ago, 4 years of unrelenting hell and shit, yearning for relief, to breath free, to fly free. But this divorce has grounded me. I am so hoping to be free again. To experience a break in this world of litigation that seemingly has no end as at least two more actions are already guaranteed for at least two more years. I can't last that long, I won't last to the end of this year. I had a doctor who heard of my situation after writing a script for some lab tests, scribbled another one and gave it to me, I should post it... On an official doctors Rx pad, the Latin slang phrase for "Don't let the Bastards Get You Down". Well when the bastards send armed law enforcement to your front door, even when you are with your child, a piece of Rx paper and those wise words just don't work. And I wish I meant only once. No better way to make friends with your neighbors than have police parked in your driveway regularly.

But under the best circumstances I can only hope for a personal vacation, a family vacation (well with my son, not my ex) is out the question, my ex bitch has seen to that. I can't even take him to the zoo let alone on a vacation. That is one of the two post decree actions that will continue for another two years, my effort to move toward normal visitation through a mediation process ordered by the court, a hard fought concession to her being the sole guardian with no rights for me as she demanded. But that will have to do for now. It's time, I'm overdue for a break. That's the Rx I really needed.

Sometimes the best way to not to let the bastards get you down is just to get the hell away from them. (jqism).

For another view of this topic see my latest entry in my Personal Blog.