Why I needed a protective order after my divorce and what happens now?

Since the hEX and I separated, he has teetered on the edge of sanity.  I don’t mean the normal strife that goes with a separation and divorce.  I mean because of his harassment, alarming behavior, aggression, etc., I felt like a prisoner in my own life.  If it wasn’t him blowing up my phone spewing venom and prose, it was friends who had heard from him and were scared for me and my kids.  If he wasn’t driving by my house while leaving me threatening messages, he was showing up on my doorstep with new girlfriends in tow.  You never knew when storm demon hEX was going to hit.  Back then, I actually cared and wanted him to be healthy and happy.  Back then I would weather the storm in hopes that we could rebuild a stronger life, a life that would withstand the storms and we could live in peace.  What I couldn’t see back then was that the storm wasn’t an external force pushing him into scary, destructive behaviors.  The storm wasn’t childhood abuse or too much alcohol making him behave this way.  What I failed to see was that HE was the storm. 

Then came the wonderful and awful day that the Court issued a 2-year protective order.  This beautiful piece of paper that says for the next two years he is not allowed within 500 feet of me!  I walked out of that courthouse and for the first time in years, I exhaled!  Then I went home, collapsed on my bedroom floor and cried.

What’s with all the tears?  I was just handed my life back and I had no idea of what to do from that point.  You see, he had his court ordered alcohol assessment, his anger management classes, a whole wealth of programs and support to help him.  Where was my support?  Where was the program that was going to teach me how to breathe again, how to lead a normal life again?  When you spend so many years living in ‘survival mode’ you forget how to just ‘be’.  And no, it’s not just like riding a bike.  If you actually survive living in ‘survival mode’ for so many years, it changes you.  Once the ‘survival mode’ button is pushed, you are already not the same.  Once you come out of survival mode, you don’t breathe the same as before.  Actually, you have to learn to breathe all over again.  I had no idea how to start breathing again.  How do I rebuild a life for me and my kids?  Again, where were MY programs and support?  It was just me.  Me tearfully clutching that piece of paper and two little babies who needed me to be okay. 

When the crying subsided, I heard a voice, the Mad Hatter voice, “you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.  You got this!”  With the support of my amazing angels, my wonderful family and friends, I have rebuilt my life.  It is a good, quiet, blissfully normal life.  I’m no longer “that woman” that everyone feels sorry for.  People no longer ask me how I'm doing with a sympathetic head tilt.  My house is no longer “that house” on the street that the police are always at.  And with the protective order getting ready to expire, I’m feeling very threatened.  I am feeling like my blissfully calm life is threatened. 

You know how structures are built differently in areas that are prone to earthquakes? Or floods?  The possibility of that structure having to withstand an earthquake is something that is taken into account when the structure is built.  What my heightened emotions and anxiety has shown me in the last few days is that I rebuilt my life without reinforcing the structure to withstand the day that protective order expires.  How am I supposed to handle having to be in the same room with him now?  How am I supposed to handle watching him drive away with my children as opposed to leaving them with my ex-mother-in-law for visitation? 

I study two different styles of martial arts.  I train my body to be prepared in case he or anyone else dare attack me again.  I have read tons of material on dealing with harassment, training my mind to effectively handle these situations.   But my emotions are dreading that day he is legally allowed access to me again.  I wish I had a class, a program, a book, that will teach me how to make this transition and maintain my quiet, stable life. 

In the writing of this post I’m starting to feel traces of calm.  Now there is this little voice in my head…I think it’s coming from my heart…and it’s saying “I make the path.  I got this!”

How Jury Duty Is Just Like Divorce....

OK, so maybe it's not.  Though I shall include as many references to divorce that I can- in order to make it some how relate ;)

So my experience starts out ridiculously
early in the morning (8:45 report in time?  Seriously?) 
And since I tend to be a tad "panicky" in unknown and forced social situations- I skipped the morning coffee as I'm assuming no one appreciates a shaking crazy lady in their court of law.

I get there- and play Warrenton's version of "Where's Waldo" There's a huge obvious sign for parking Lot A- and an itty bitty -you will probably be distracted by the big shiny loops of razor wire on the next building over and totally miss it the first few times- sign for Lot H.  What happened to Lots B-I?  You're gonna need Dora to find those.  I seriously cannot help you there.

So I find the Holy Grail that is Lot H- only it's kind of two different parking lots and I noticed more people were parked in the downhill parking area than the smaller top one that I pulled into- so I move my car to the downhill lot.  When you're surrounded by rows and rows of police cars, you kinda have an urgent need to get things right. At this point I can officially check "Found Parking Lot H and Successfully Parked the Car" from my To Do List. 
I pull out my trusty letter from the Sheriff and confirm in the "Will I Be Searched?" section, that yes, I can have my cell phone with me so long that it's turned off or on vibrate and that I shouldn't attempt to smuggle in weapons of mass destruction in my Va-jay-jay.  Pepper Spray and Mace are also frowned upon for obvious reasons.  (And I'm assuming they would be Va-jay-jay irritants as well.)

So, a nice hike up the hill that lovingly reminds me that my fall allergies and out of shapeness make breathing while moving a lot harder than it should ever have to be and I'm dutifully checking the building numbers for #40.  Whomever labeled the parking lots must have numbered the buildings as well as they are jumping around out of sequence like a line dancing squirrel on crack.  Luckily a nice Mom with toddler in tow was able to walk me to the front door like a kindergartner on their first day of school. 
Thanks Mom! :)
*Checks "Find Entrance to Building" off her To Do List*
And I'm waiting in line for my turn at the Scan and Grope- when I notice the sign posted on the door is a picture of a cell phone in a big "No" circle.  There's no verbiage to explain this- just an obvious visual note that cell phones are as welcome as knives and guns.  In other words, not at all.  I step out of line and reread the letter from Sheriff Fox again.  He clearly states that cell phones are OK, so what the hell people?  After weighing in my head, do I trust the Sheriff's letter or the Big Guys with Guns? Big Guys with Guns won that mental standoff hands down.  So back out to the car I go.  And thank the Gods for deodorant on my second trek up the Hill of Death!
*Can now check "Find Entrance to Building On Her Own!" off my To Do List*
I reenter the Scan and Grope line and one of the aforementioned Big Guys with Guns, is telling the person in line in front of me that yes, it's OK to have your cell phone on you so long as it's on vibrate.... WHAT THE EFF IS THE DEAL WITH THE CELL PHONE "NO" SIGN THEN????  *Sigh*
Dear Faquier County Circuit Court,
Please add verbiage to your cell phone "no" sign to save my fellow citizens from experiencing the mental duress I went through while visiting your lovely establishment today.
Sincerely,
Evil Twin AND THIS IS MY LAST NAME IN ALL CAPS AS YOU CAUSE ME MORE MENTAL ANGUISH WHEN YOU INSIST ON SENDING THINGS TO MY FORMER MARRIED NAME- I'M DIVORCED YOU PEOPLE!!!!  HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU THAT????
*Deep Cleansing Screams*  *Deep Cleansing Screams*
OK- so  the building has been entered....
(Sadly I didn't get the added thrill of a grope as I did not set off the metal detector- mental note: pierce something kinky before going back on October 18th)
So I get to the nice guy who's checking in victims and I again explain that my summons was sent to my married name which is not my legal name- and he sends me on my merry way to the courtroom with the Sagely advice of "Jury A is down the stairs."
Walking in- that was the most "My brain is not comprehending this setup" moment for me- as to the right are all these people sitting in auditorium style chairs and they're facing downstairs where the judge sits and stage area is.  I walk downstairs as I am one for following directions- but when I get to the row of seats- I notice almost every other frigging person in there is sitting in the above section.  I'm sitting there next to some woman in a suit.  Did I just seriously invite myself to the wrong section? Is the Judge going to walk in and dismiss my sorry behind for being a jerk who can't follow basic directions?  So- back up the stairs I go (are you sensing a trend here?  Getting things right on try one is not my strong suit.)
I ask the nice guy again where I'm supposed to be sitting.  "Jury A is downstairs." 
*Noted*
OK- so back down the stairs I go.  Obviously everyone has just seen me walk down the stairs, sit, look freaked out, get up and walk back up the stairs only to walk back down the stairs moments later to sit again and look horrified.  I am now a one woman freak show for the upstairs people :(  Not to mention- being on the ground level gives you a direct line of sight to the upstairs people's crotches.  So not OK!!!  And it's not like I can play off my discomfort by pretending to be on my cell phone either.  There is no "Game Face" for this level of terror.  I try to deflect discomfort by chatting up Woman in the suit next to me.  Since I absolutely suck at polite conversation while being uncomfortable- I think I told her every Jury horror story known to man.  Luckily, she was really cool and just as uncomfortable as I was.  Moments later, the rest of Jury A start to file in- and notably most of them are not in suits (where the heck were you people when I needed you? You so fail me!) and I'm still there chatting, shifting nervously in my chair and trying not to notice that the woman in the top row of the upstairs people is wearing a skirt.  (Mental note: NEVER wear a skirt to Jury Duty- It's not a pretty nor a welcomed sight for Jury A)
Mental scaring aside, the next hour or two is pretty normal - Woman in a suit and I are now besties and have decided that we want to sit on a boring case. 
Woman in a suit: "Like a land dispute..."
Me: "Or a domestic dispute over cows"
Woman in a suit giggling uncontrollably: "Yes, please let our case be about stealing cattle!"
Me: "Domestic cattle theft!  Or two people are divorcing and we need to decide who gets custody of the chickens!"
She then decides maybe I'm not the best person for her to sit next to as we are both giggling uncontrollably.  (Take that you smug upstairs people MOFO's!)
Woman in suit:  "If you make me start giggling before the Judge and I get in trouble, I'm taking you down with me."
Me nodding: "Sadly we just may be the first Jurors to ever get sent to Time Out."
I'm now picturing my face on warning posters around the court room. "If you see this person, do not engage in conversation with her."
So at this point- officer I have no clue what his name was- starts to set up the DVD for our viewing enjoyment.  Both Woman in a suit and I are visibly cringing as we watch him push button after button to no avail..
Woman in the suit whispering to me: "Press the Play button!"
Me: "Look!  He found Pause!"
It's like we were a two person cheering section for someone playing the Claw Game.  And much to our delight, he was able to find Play after exhausting every alternative on the machine.  Truly the highlight of our day thus far.
So the video watching was exactly what you would expect.  I was almost able to get through it without laughing.  It's not my fault as the Judge talking pronounced "Juror" as "Jur-WAH!"
(Holy shit- I think she just called us "awesome" in French!)
That and there was a point in the video where they explain that when you're on the Jury- you shouldn't read any local papers (not a problem) or try to conduct your own investigation into the case online (Oh EFF!  I can't Google this?  But I need to Google everything!!!! It's what I do!!!!)
But then I was laughing again when the Juror on the video told his tale of woe-
"I'm used to being able to go home at night and talk to my Wife about what went on in my day...."
Dude, you are seriously Effed now.  Your upholding the Court's rule of not talking about the case just planted the seed of suspicion and doubt in your marriage.  She is plotting your demise as you sleep....
She knows that you're not talking to her because you're fantasizing about being with the Plaintiff.... Your ass is TOAST!  *Laughs the bitter Divorced Woman*
So what follows this is an interesting experiment in human interaction.  They send all of Jury A into a small room that is engulfed by the biggest ugliest table known to man.  Not only that- the bathroom is in the room with you.  A simple door is what's separating you from people doing their business. So we're wedged in like sardines and the line to the bathroom is as close standing and awkward as it is when you fly Coach. Sorry you're trying to sit there looking normal while I have my butt in your face! We just all barely squeezed into that room.  I'm sitting between people, looking forward at people and there is no escaping that this is the most socially awkward experience of my life.  What do you normally do when you're in a waiting situation in public?  That's right- you check your phone.  Then we had the added paranoia- of "you are not allowed to take notes while sitting in the Jury Room."  Umm, notes of what?
What My Notes Would Look Like: "Sitting in a cramped ugly room with minimum artwork.  Everyone is feeling awkward and no one is talking.  The line for the bathroom is hideously long.  Thank Gods I don't have to go right now... Oh holy hell is that instant coffee?  Seriously?  Would I ever be desperate enough to drink that?"  (Riveting, I know!)
So again, you have me in an awkward situation....
Me to the room:  So what the heck do they mean "We're not allowed to take notes?  Take notes on what? "Jury B was in the room with us and then they were not.." 
Woman in the suit:  "I'm just happy we get paid for this!  I didn't know that we would!"
Then someone else mentioned that it was total BS that some of them got stuck in 2 hour parking since Lot H was full- and how the Court wasn't going to give us a "get out of ticket" pass.
Me: "Yep- there went your $30!" "The Court giveth and the Court taketh away!"
Awkward conversation continued for what felt like hours of waiting.
Me: "Maybe this is a test to see if we're patient enough to sit on a Jury?"
Other Juror: "Or see how long we can be quiet"
Me: "I hope not.  I would fail that test every time."
Awkward waiting was briefly interrupted when someone from the outside world opened the door.  (FREEDOM!!!!)
Nope- she was just grabbing a stack of styrofoam cups.
When the door was closed again...
Me:  "I knew they were having a party out there."
So- hours later- it turns out that they weren't keeping us in the room to punish Yours Truly- the lawyers were deliberating the case- it was settled out of court and we were all granted our freedom. Until October 18th anyway....

LMAO at the expense of my Mr. Coffee...

So, back in the late '90's I worked with two women, we will call them Thelma and Louise.  About 3 years ago Thelma started working at the firm I'm at now.  We're not in the same department so I don't see her too often but I did today and we chit chatted for a few minutes and then she says

Thelma: Hey, I met your ex-husband last Summer.
Me: My ex-husband? Really? Are you sure?
Thelma: yeah, yeah I'm sure.  You remember Louise?
Me: of course!
Thelma: well she and I met for a drink at McGees's (the bar across the street from my office) after work.  We were sitting at the bar, talking when some guy came over and started chatting us up. He sat down, we were laughing, having some fun and he asked us what line of work we were in.  We said patents.  He said that his ex-wife was as well.  He asked where we worked and I said 'right across the street.' He chuckled and said 'no way, so does my ex-wife'.

[I have to interject here, this bar is literally two stone throws away from my office.  And a good 40 minutes from his office, which does beg the WTF question...but I digress...]

Thelma: whose your wife? [demon hEX replies] Oh, sure, I know the good twin! I've worked with her for years...

And then she said that once she finished detailing our history he just got up and walked away.  She and Louise were looking at each other like "did we say something wrong?"

So, to recap, my ex-husband who is blissfully married to wife 3.0 was hanging out at a bar last summer (a bar that is across the street from my office and 40 minutes away from his office/home) chatting up pretty women he doesn't know?  Besides WTF?  What's a good saying here, a leopard never changes his spots? A tiger never changes his stripes?  Thank God and good riddance, he's someone else's problem now?

LMAO...I need to google coffee makers...

Mr. Moodypants Objects to his nickname...

One of my favorite things about the Evil Twin/Good Twin dynamic is our nicknames for our cast of characters.  I can’t give you any criteria of when you will be christened with a nickname from us, or even how you become nicknamed.  All I can tell you is that if you hang around with us long enough, you will eventually acquire a nickname.

Mr. Moodypants has serious objections to his nickname.  Hindsight being 20/20, I can give you a list of reasons and events that led to Mr. Moodypants being nicknamed.  But instead I think I will just tell you what Mr. Moodypants means to me.

I met Mr. Moodypants when I was 8 years old.  He was, without a doubt, the cutest boy in Mrs. D’Aleio’s 3^rd grade class.  He quickly became one of my very best friends! He called me every night at 8pm sharp (bedtime was 8:30).  Sometimes we would stay on the phone until 9, whispering, so our mom’s wouldn’t hear we were still up!  I still remember sitting in my parents dark kitchen, whispering into the phone, hoping I could have just 5 more minutes to talk to this cute, sweet boy!

Mr. Moodypants  chased me all over the play-ground at school and when he caught me, he didn’t pull my pig-tails the way the other boys did.  He just let me go so he could chase me some more (hmmmm….some things never change! :p)

I would say that Mr. Moodypants was probably the first boy to break my heart.  His parents sent him to a different school.  I sat on the floor of my room and sobbed.  I was positive he would find a new best friend and forget all about me.

Mr. Moodypants taught me how to ride a BMX bike.  Mr. Moodypants helped introduce me to good beer at Main Street.  For as long as I can remember, Mr. Moodypants has had a smile that will light up a room and every heart in that room.  Mr. Moodypants was a good friend to me during  some difficult times in life.  I’ve always been grateful for the encouraging e-mails during the legal aspect of my divorce.  I’m grateful for his business knowledge, which he generously shares!

Mr. Moodypants is a true friend.  He will do anything and everything to help and support the ones he loves.  He is smart, loyal, kind, and all around amazing!! He truly is Captain Wonderful!!

 

Lifeboats in the Sea of Divorce

Let me start of by saying that the Good Twin is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me in my life.  Not only is she a Twin survivor in the soul ripping nightmare that is divorce- she's a frigging "well" of all things positive and meaningful in life.  She and I often reflect on what was that "moment" that brought us together. 
Ironically, Good Twin was someone I had a cloudy yet positive recollection of in High School.  I can't remember us having any classes together (she swears that we took German together- but being a repeat failure in Spanish I can honestly say "que?")
But she was definitely one of those "we never really hung out, but I so like you anyway" Facebook Friend requests.  It wasn't until I realized that my marriage was tragically over- and my Facebook posts started reflecting how scared, insecure and out of tune with the Universe I was- that Good Twin started Facebook messaging me.  At first it was links to her Live Journal and as so much of what I was going through was a mirror to what she was going through- I read her Live Journal Posts and felt an immediate connection- here was someone who not only didn't judge me- she was there beside me through every broken thought and hurt and "how much of a monster am I" feeling that I was experiencing!
The first time we hung out in person- she made spaghetti for us at her house.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that I frigging hate spaghetti with a passion- but after the wine was flowing- we connected like no tomorrow!!!!
I was also blessed with a friendship of someone I call HRH.  He was my first true love.  At 15, he embodied all that was right in the world.  Not only was he a gorgeous heartthrob of bad boy proportions- he had this natural spirituality and the belief of championing the underdog- and at that point in my life, I had strong beliefs in what was black and what was white in my existence- and nothing could change my bull-headed ways. I used to be the champion of the underdog- but the insecurity of being a teenager totally under minded that.  Not only did he speak "Evil Twin-ism" he was able to convey to my soul alternative ways of viewing situations- and he did this knowing that my ego was on the line- so he never put me on the offensive- he had this way of explaining things that made me look past my own limitations- and is it any wonder that it took me 7 years to get over his gorgeous ass? 
So flash forward to the me that just started to grasp  that my marriage was over.  I became friends with HRH on Facebook because my Husband and I were trying for a child of our own. I went through a spiritual cleansing phase that meant I would view every past relationship with open eyes and open heart- and that I would right any spiritual wrongs that I did- so that the Universe understood that I was creating a new life with the understanding that I wasn't a perfect person- and if I had the chance to honor and set right those relationship mishaps of my past- I was all about that.  So even though HRH was the heartache I never got over- our natural friendship overcame everything.  He was the only person I've ever felt comfortable enough to expose my "ugly side" to and in the way that captured my 15-year old heart- he never called me out or judged me. Even when my spiritual journey meant embracing "liquid courage" and blasting him with every insecure fibre of my being.  BTW- HRH- if you ever read this- I am so sorry and thank you!!!!
That's where "Lifeboats in the Sea of Divorce" comes in to play- I hope that everyone who has to endure this Dark Night of the Soul- has that spiritual rock- that comes through the the most randomness of places- and speaks to your soul and reminds you that no matter what- you are amazing- and that there is someone who sees all the good inside you.