We’ve Been Deposed

Well, my husband called me for a good reason on Saturday. He said his lawyer called him to tell him we’ve been deposed for this coming Tuesday. Wow.

His lawyer wants to prep us on Monday. I can’t believe this case is finally gaining some momentum. I’m also sort of surprised that they want to depose me. I was not an employee.

I’m no legal expert, but I firmly believe they are deposing us to try to suss out what sort of witnesses we’d make so that they can base their offer on that.

My husband sounded really nervous and I said, “Don’t be! This is our chance to shine. We’ll be calm, poised, dignified, and make great witnesses. He is the opposite of that!”

And that’s no exaggeration. This guy’s a drunk. He’s slimy, loud, brash, a crook and a blatant misogynist. There’s no poise or dignity anywhere where he’s concerned. He would make the worst witness. By now his lawyers probably realize that.

I know I’ll be nervous too, but I plan to rise to the occasion. I told my husband, “They ruined my mother fucking life. I’m ready for this — bring it on.” He said he felt better knowing I was feeling fierce about it.

He told me he spoke to his lawyer again about our agreement, and his lawyer told him that he’s legally bound to honor the agreement and it cannot be altered unless both parties agree to alter it. So I feel better about that too.

Is it possible that my life will soon be back on track? I dare not get too excited. Even though he’s deposing us this week, the case is scheduled for October, and God knows how much they could stall it if they wanted to. You just cannot count your chickens.

But let’s face it, it’s impossible not to. The big question is HOW MUCH WILL IT BE? Enough to get my car repaired? Enough to help my daughter with her finances? Enough to start a new business and a new life?

Before I decide what to do with it I also plan to go to an accountant and get advice. I want to know how it’ll affect me tax-wise and make sure it’ll be considered part of our divorce settlement.

I’m still paying several hundred dollars on some back taxes for 2012 because I didn’t pay the fine for cashing in one of my 401ks. It’s the first time in my life I’ve owed taxes that I didn’t pay on time. I plan on going back to being an upstanding citizen.

I decided, then, to go back to my journal and read on, from January 2013 to October 2013, when we separated. It was even harder to read than the earlier London part, believe it or not.

First, we were not back here long before I left him and I was feeling strong. I stayed away from him for over two months and kept communication mostly to email and text.

But his pleas to get me back were truly relentless. I have page after page of emails and texts from him that went from abusive to cool indifference to pathetic begging. I never would have had those if I hadn’t insisted that I would not talk to him on the phone. He hated it, but he begged and begged.

Even when he wore me down and I went back, I knew it was a mistake, and, as usual for us, when I went back to him, our finances and future took yet another turn for the worse.

These people played with our lives as though we were chess pieces. They had no right to do that.

When the hotel owner began to harass us we were living in a basement “apartment” which I put in quotes because it was simply a storage room with an adjoining bath — not fit for human habitation. But it was supposed to be temporary because the owner had told us that he wanted to train someone he could trust to run things so that he’d be free to travel.

Only I guess fear began to possess him because when I returned to the hotel to live with my husband again, this man became abusive. I can’t write any more about case specifics.

I was alarmed as I read of my constant debilitating migraines, chest pains, foot pain, and general ill health. The migraines and chest pains were 100% due to stress of our situation both in London and back in the USA. I was trying to get my doctor to perform a gastric by-pass operation on me but my insurance said I wasn’t sick enough.

We wanted to leave the hotel, but didn’t have a penny to our name. He was so resentful that I refused to ask my family for money and that we were not welcome at my parent’s home. He could not fathom when I said to him that I’d never been so poor in my entire life, not even when I was an 18 year old new mother. He had taken me to new lows and there was no end in sight.

He began to leave me at the hotel five or six nights a week, and then seven. It crept up on me because the hotel is downtown and he’d go out on foot, so it always felt like he was just around the corner. And I was miserable both physically and mentally and I was so ashamed of my weight and clothes. We didn’t have a penny to spare, so I could not justify going to bars with him.

Reading the journal last night it was clear to me when he began to cheat and that was really hard to take. It started earlier than I thought previously. It started when we were still at the hotel. The person who I suspect is/was one of the other women seemed even more probable after I read the journal. I was with him on a very rare night out. We had only a few dollars to our name. We were trying to appear as though all was well. We were sitting outside because he smoked and we ended up sharing a table with an attractive woman about 30 years old. He lit her cigarette. He flirted with her, trying to impress her when he found out she was a music teacher, he talked about the masons and she seemed to find that fascinating. And then, to my horror, he offered to buy her a drink. You have to understand that we didn’t have more than $10 to our name. As I read on, there were other suspicious incidences, mysterious texts, etc. Too painful to recall now.

It got to a point where he would not even pretend that being gone seven nights a week was odd, or wrong. It got to a point where I was literally begging him to spend one night a week with me and he looked at me and said he couldn’t because I made him too miserable. It was really, really difficult to read how he flatly refused to spend any time with me. He had given up. He was courting or fucking someone else. I filled him with disgust. And he lied and lied and lied.

I reminded him of all his failures. And he not only had stress from me, but from his mother, kids, and dad. He just retreated. He often talked about giving his mom and me some of the settlement money and simply disappearing.

But over and over and over I kept thinking, my god, just weeks ago he was crying and begging for me to return to him. I was his “life” his “wife” his “everything.” Now, none of that mattered. I was shit.

I was also really struck by his incomprehension of money and how to handle it. And also by the fact that hid money from me, but I never hid it from him. I can’t believe I was with someone like that.

I read all the way through to the night I took the overdose and then shut my computer down. The rest is fresh enough for me.

Ironically there would not be a case at all if I hadn’t gone back to him. Things were dreadful and this man, his employer, mistreated and abused him. Obviously the case has some merit, but how much is anyone’s guess. That’s why I feel that we must be so good at this deposition that they know that under no circumstances will they want to bring the case to trial. We would appear as two calm, clean cut people whose lives were played with and the hotel owner is still an abrasive and abusive drunk.

I felt depressed last night after I read all that. It was actually more bleak and dire than I remembered. To see me now, going to swim six days a week, about 70 pounds lighter, the difference is truly night and day. I’m sure when they see me on Tuesday they will hardly recognize me.

I spent a couple of hours making a timeline of important events from that time and emailed it to my husband. I told him to read it and call me today because I want to go over some things with him before he sees his lawyer tomorrow. I read an article in the Guardian not that long ago about a young college student who was raped when she went for a massage and she didn’t report it. Then she found out he had been arrested for doing it to someone else, so she gathered her courage and came forward and told the authorities it had happened to her too.

She was brave and strong and for a year waited for it to go to trial. When it was her turn to get on the witness stand, she was calm and cool. I forget the circumstances, but I think there was a hung jury and she had to wait another year to get back on the stand for him to be re-tried. The first time, the jury could not see her pain because she was calm and collected and matter of fact, but the second time she just let it come out, and he was found guilty. My point is the jury responded to her differently when she appeared as an innocent victim put through a horrifying experience, than if she just spoke about it with no emotion.

I’m not saying we should act or lie, but we should be careful to let it be clear that by this man playing with our lives, our lives were ruined and that’s the absolute truth.

Even though reading about that dreadful time made me sad, it made me glad that we are apart. I suppose in my own way I should be thankful that it happened, because it allowed me to get out of an abusive relationship with a little bit of money (hopefully).

This case makes me feel dirty and I can’t wait for it to be over. If, when it’s over, my husband’s attorney thinks I have a case, I’ll let him proceed with it even though I feel shameful about it. Yes, it’s legitimate, but many people would just count their losses and walk away. I just don’t come from a sue-happy family. My husband does. But I am angry at this man and I want vengeance.

I want to put all of this behind me and get on with my life. As you have read, I have so many ideas and I am eager to put one of them into motion. I want to begin to earn an income and feel pride in myself again. A year from now I’d like to have a young business that is making money and be dating a man who respects me. I want my husband to become a distant memory. I want to be living in my own apartment or home. I want to be helping my parents financially.

Is this the light at the end of a very, very long tunnel? Perhaps.

 

 

 

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