My Last Hope:
“Before you act on this unlawful self-help remedy, please consider very carefully that we could be rid of each other for good in 2 1/2 wks. If you choose instead to take my belongings to the dump, displace my cats, and/or lock me out, know that that decision will propel us into a costly, protracted battle for… months? Years? I don’t know. Be reasonable. Be wise. Let me go. Above all, PLEASE don’t cast my babies out. If you choose to break the law in spite of the disastrous consequences that will invite, just text me to pick up the girls, please! After this weekend, you’re a stranger to me and I don’t know what you’re capable of. I have to imagine the worst case scenario possible and suppose you’ll do it. Please don’t hurt Penny and Cricket. They’re all I have. I’ve been good to Ollie, loved him with my whole self. Do the right thing, even if you choose wrong tomorrow. It didn’t have to come to this. The cops told you exactly what a legal eviction would take, and I’ll be gone before you could even see a judge for that signature. Which you wouldn’t get. You ARE wrong in this instance, Jax. Stop.”
All I have left beyond that is prayer. I can’t skip work, and I have about an hour at home before I leave for rehearsal. I’m scared, but calm somehow. For now. Who knows what tomorrow’s nerves will look like? Oh, god. It’s going to be a long day.
This is the hardest thing I’ve been through as an adult. It’s hard to say that, but it’s been constant and unremitting for 2 solid months – a grief, panic, anger, and heartache combo like no other – and building to the most ludicrous, horrifying, painful frightening weekend and subsequent 3 days, ever. This is ridiculous, but not dismissable. If only it could be so easy. I’m terrified.
I hold a spot of hope in my heart that they were bluffing, or that the intervening days have given them the chance to review their options, their odds – since doubtless they actually think they can prove their ridiculous claims – and realize the risk they run of keeping me glued to them for the foreseeable future. “There were 3 of us in this marriage” won’t belong to Princess Diana alone if they don’t stop their pursuit. They’re wrong. They’ll lose. And it will take forever. Bless your beautiful union – Darlings – and shed the ex-girlfriend at the start. Your chances aren’t good, just based on the haste of it all, but add the stress of what we’ll go through together, and it’ll ruin you.
I won’t. Our legal entanglement will. And I won’t care.
Seriously. Don’t be this stupid! Are you really this stupid?!! Just leave me alone, you assholes. Fuck my ex-boyfriend. I’m not even sorry that his hateful wife will eat his heart out someday. He earned it. He deserves it. He chose her. Just leave me out of it.
And someday soon, I won’t need those thoughts anymore. It will all be gone. He really did me a favor, if I can just get through tomorrow first, and the coming weeks next.
Hang on, Christie. You’ll know by days’ end tomorrow.
Oh my god! I was home for 2 1/2 hours before I found this.
I printed it Thursday, when Jax first threatened moving up my move-out date before the end of our verbal agreement. (The subsequent text conversation made it a written agreement.) (Which isn’t even required for evidence. Verbal counts.) I didn’t put it on his desk for days, hoping he’d come to his senses or calm down. It was so out of character for him, I kept saying. Of course, I see, instead, that it’s who he is now.
It’s been sitting there ignored since then. I highlighted the info cops reiterated over the weekend before I left for work yesterday, and it remained, as ever, untouched, until today. Is it an indication of the path they’ve already chosen, regardless of what I say? Is this happening? Am I losing everything tomorrow?
Oddly enough, scared as I am, I laughed out loud. And they call me ridiculous. WOW.