Cross posted with gooseandganderreport.wordpress.com
Scorched earth divorces, as discussed in the book, Divorced from Justice, start out by the spouse with deep pockets (SDP) and cutthroat attorneys cutting off the innocent spouse from any financial support. Then, SDP's attorneys throw every stalling tactic, legal (and not so legal) maneuver, and obfuscation at the innocent spouse. As her attorneys fend off the various maneuvers, her legal team runs out of funds.
While on paper, there are protections in place to protect the innocent spouse, the reality is quite different. Attorney Penelope Bryant wrote about coercion (see http://tinyurl.com/4t8pjbc) and the long-lasting, devastating effects on the spouse and her children.
I have been told that I should describe myself as an undocumented victim of domestic violence. Undocumented because like many others, my divorce court has routinely denied enforcement of domestic violence laws since my abuser is the one with deep pockets. So, even though I've attempted to just move on with my life after 26 years of marriage, my Ex has repeatedly used the court to deny me my rights to my share in the assets from the marriage at the same time he's forcing me to take his extortion debt, take his lavish vacation debt (think Bonaire, Islemorada, and Vail) and debt taken to hide his asset-hiding.
As I am struggling to fight back against my Ex, who took the entirety of the retirement assets, dissipated the value of the marital home by over $100k, and has tried to incarcerate me on several occasions for failure to pay utility bills in the dissipated house (think holes in the roof, kicked in doors, and broken boiler) even though I am financially destitute due to his court maneuvers, I can't help but think about how these scorched earth divorce tactics are similar to the seizing of assets and power by political bullies, most recently the GOP in Wisconsin.
As I struggle to fight total financial devastation and probable homelessness, my personal Patronus (think Harry Potter) is to channel Luke Skywalker trying to shoot the death star, in the first Star Wars movie. As he is being shot at by the Evil Empire's fighters, Luke channels the Force as Obi-Wan Kenobi implores him to focus using the force, to shut out the distractions as he focuses on the target he must take out in order to save humankind.
As citizens are attempting to fight against the takeover of our country by corporations (think Wisconsin and the Koch brothers), I think about the similarities between scorched earth divorces and the disenfranchisement of our workers, families, communities, and country.
First, the corporates took away many of our rights when they changed bankruptcy laws, allowing credit card companies (think Bank of America) to charge loan shark credit card rates and policies, then they reduced funding to such an extent to legal assistance programs that those programs still remaining had few resources to make a difference. The corporates bought out SCOTUS (think Bush v Gore), are trying to control access to the Internet, and ignore open meetings acts, and have used the government for unfettered attacks on whistleblowers.
They want us to believe that we have no option but to comply. Therefore, we must figure out ways to fly under the radar and cover the backs of those who still have resources to fight peaceful yet effective battles.
In order to survive, to preserve any shred of decency and life, we must prioritize and focus, yet decentralize our peaceful attacks. We need hundreds of wikileak-type sites. While we decentralize, we need to find ways to share resources to enforce ethical laws and practices.
More later... I have to get back to fighting my own legal battles. I am still not out of the woods in my own divorce. My Ex continues to stall, obfuscate, submit frivolous motions with perjured affidavits and has so far prevailed in the court system.
In the meantime, even if you feel you have no energy to fight these battles for common decency, talk to your neighbors and find ways to pool and stretch your energies. Our children are relying on us.
Showing posts with label domestic abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label domestic abuse. Show all posts
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Update on courthouse corruption
Well, I wasn't incarcerated at Cook County Jail by my Ex's attempts at extortion. For more information, please read my update at http://www.bullyfatigue.wordpress.com
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Fleeting Pockets of Joy Amid the Abuse
This morning, I longingly looked out the window at my poor garden, overgrown with five-foot tall weeds. The weeds are so pervasive, it is difficult to see the pink and white stargazer lilies, blue balloon flowers, and purple coneflowers that have somehow hidden themselves from the voracious deer’s nightly feeding frenzies. And then, I saw it. An emerald glimmer of beauty darting from one orange lily to another. A tiny hummingbird, and then a florescent yellow goldfinch, visiting my garden which only moments before seemed hopelessly, irretrievably choked off from anything resembling its former self as a source of joy.
I remember how this garden evolved. When my sons were small, I would tend this garden after work as my boys played in the front yard and sidewalk. This garden was always known as “Mom’s garden” and it grew like my sons: starting out as dreams hatched while poring over January’s blitz of garden catalogs, then planting the tiny bulbs, seeds, and plants, full of promise of what they would become. Despite my organic battles with slugs, rabbits, chipmunks, and squirrels, despite my battles with the school district to provide appropriate educations for my sons, despite my desperate entreaties to prevent my husband from compulsively borrowing yet more money to buy his custom-made shirts while continuing to pay off a corrupt contractor bent on cheating us with an addition that would never be completed, my garden and my sons grew into sources of great joy. I allowed myself to feel pride as my neighbors would compliment me on my garden, bursting with color and surprise pockets of flowers that enticed Monarchs, hummingbirds, and goldfinches. I allowed myself pride as my growing sons achieved in school, sports, and Boy Scouts. Ashamed of my inability to have a home life like my neighbors, I hid my efforts to single-handedly rebuild the kitchen, to patch kicked in doors, to save money while he went off on “guys only” scuba trips to Bonaire, and to fend off the verbal detritus of never being “good-enough.”
And so, the festering winter of family dysfunction and divorce that had gradually sneaked into my life took over like dandelions in a yard during vacation. Shoved out, locked out, starved out, and cut off from adequate funds to defend myself in court and to pay my obligations, my garden and my relationships with my sons lay fallow. Occasional fleeting pockets of past joy would peek out as perennial flowers or furtive get-togethers with my sons tried to push their way through the choking weeds of dysfunction to sparkle in the sun before being stomped down by a neighbor’s dog-do or a nasty Narcissistic communication from the Ex.
How can it still be such a Siberian winter when it is ninety degrees outside? Even though my ex took essentially everything, the Courts still seem bent on perpetuating, bent on enabling the continued denial of equal treatment, denying due process to those who, like me, do not have funds to fend off scorched earth divorce tactics. Friends ask how this could happen, aren’t there laws to protect women in 26 year marriages? Aren’t there domestic abuse laws? Aren’t there laws preventing him from taking essentially all of the assets and retirement funds? What about the contributions I made to the marriage? How can the Court allow the father of my children to get away with taking everything, to get away with continued coercion, to get away with enforcing an unconscionable agreement forced upon me after continually denying me time and funds to hire adequate representation to protect my rights in court?
I only know that our legal system has become so inaccessible to those who don’t have deep pockets to fend off abusive legal maneuvers that innocent people, coerced into confessions by the John Burges of the world, sit on death row awaiting vindication. I only know that the Goldman Sachs of the country can avoid admitting guilt as they pay a fine that is a mere pittance of the funds they stole. I only know that students with diverse learning needs only get an adequate education if their parents can afford private tutoring. I only know that women who are abused are only protected if they have their own deep pockets, their own funds to hire top-notch legal teams complete with public relations savvy.
I have come to believe that protective laws without adequate enforcement are worse than no laws at all. Reasonable people believe that, because there are protective laws, if a spouse is denied an equal share of the marital estate or a suspect is convicted of a crime, then it must be due to clear-cut fault or guilt. Claims of coercion are ignored and lives are forever ruined. Only if reasonable people, such as the Innocence Project at Northwestern, persevere to challenge the John Burges of the world, are convictions overturned, but many lives are forever ruined because of our two-tiered system of justice. Most of those who are cheated out of justice in divorce courts are told their only choice is to walk away and start over. Corrupt divorce lawyers, pockets bulging with family assets seized through churning cases, are never reported and move on to the next case.
Unfortunately, my ex is apparently not done with me yet. It seems he will not be satisfied until he has kept his promise to make me destitute and not satisfied unless I am homeless. He continues to use his attorneys to prevent me from reclaiming what belonged to me, to refuse to uphold his end of the unconscionable agreement, and continue his legalized harassment.
However, I also know that in the middle of this July day, this ninety degree winter of domestic abuse, I found a fleeting pocket of joy today. As I longingly looked out the window at my poor garden, overgrown with five-foot tall weeds, I saw that fleeting pocket of joy. The weeds are so pervasive, it is difficult to see the pink and white stargazer lilies, blue balloon flowers, and purple coneflowers that have somehow hidden themselves from the voracious deer’s nightly feeding frenzies. Right there, I saw it. An emerald glimmer of beauty darting from one orange lily to another. A tiny hummingbird, and then a florescent yellow goldfinch, visiting my garden which only moments before seemed hopelessly, irretrievably choked off from anything resembling its former self as a source of joy.
I must remind myself to nurture my garden, to hold onto those fleeting pockets of joy in relationships, and realize that, despite my current life of destitution, I AM capable of new ways to nurture healthy relationships with my sons, of creating things of beauty, and giving to others to make this world a better place.
I remember how this garden evolved. When my sons were small, I would tend this garden after work as my boys played in the front yard and sidewalk. This garden was always known as “Mom’s garden” and it grew like my sons: starting out as dreams hatched while poring over January’s blitz of garden catalogs, then planting the tiny bulbs, seeds, and plants, full of promise of what they would become. Despite my organic battles with slugs, rabbits, chipmunks, and squirrels, despite my battles with the school district to provide appropriate educations for my sons, despite my desperate entreaties to prevent my husband from compulsively borrowing yet more money to buy his custom-made shirts while continuing to pay off a corrupt contractor bent on cheating us with an addition that would never be completed, my garden and my sons grew into sources of great joy. I allowed myself to feel pride as my neighbors would compliment me on my garden, bursting with color and surprise pockets of flowers that enticed Monarchs, hummingbirds, and goldfinches. I allowed myself pride as my growing sons achieved in school, sports, and Boy Scouts. Ashamed of my inability to have a home life like my neighbors, I hid my efforts to single-handedly rebuild the kitchen, to patch kicked in doors, to save money while he went off on “guys only” scuba trips to Bonaire, and to fend off the verbal detritus of never being “good-enough.”
And so, the festering winter of family dysfunction and divorce that had gradually sneaked into my life took over like dandelions in a yard during vacation. Shoved out, locked out, starved out, and cut off from adequate funds to defend myself in court and to pay my obligations, my garden and my relationships with my sons lay fallow. Occasional fleeting pockets of past joy would peek out as perennial flowers or furtive get-togethers with my sons tried to push their way through the choking weeds of dysfunction to sparkle in the sun before being stomped down by a neighbor’s dog-do or a nasty Narcissistic communication from the Ex.
How can it still be such a Siberian winter when it is ninety degrees outside? Even though my ex took essentially everything, the Courts still seem bent on perpetuating, bent on enabling the continued denial of equal treatment, denying due process to those who, like me, do not have funds to fend off scorched earth divorce tactics. Friends ask how this could happen, aren’t there laws to protect women in 26 year marriages? Aren’t there domestic abuse laws? Aren’t there laws preventing him from taking essentially all of the assets and retirement funds? What about the contributions I made to the marriage? How can the Court allow the father of my children to get away with taking everything, to get away with continued coercion, to get away with enforcing an unconscionable agreement forced upon me after continually denying me time and funds to hire adequate representation to protect my rights in court?
I only know that our legal system has become so inaccessible to those who don’t have deep pockets to fend off abusive legal maneuvers that innocent people, coerced into confessions by the John Burges of the world, sit on death row awaiting vindication. I only know that the Goldman Sachs of the country can avoid admitting guilt as they pay a fine that is a mere pittance of the funds they stole. I only know that students with diverse learning needs only get an adequate education if their parents can afford private tutoring. I only know that women who are abused are only protected if they have their own deep pockets, their own funds to hire top-notch legal teams complete with public relations savvy.
I have come to believe that protective laws without adequate enforcement are worse than no laws at all. Reasonable people believe that, because there are protective laws, if a spouse is denied an equal share of the marital estate or a suspect is convicted of a crime, then it must be due to clear-cut fault or guilt. Claims of coercion are ignored and lives are forever ruined. Only if reasonable people, such as the Innocence Project at Northwestern, persevere to challenge the John Burges of the world, are convictions overturned, but many lives are forever ruined because of our two-tiered system of justice. Most of those who are cheated out of justice in divorce courts are told their only choice is to walk away and start over. Corrupt divorce lawyers, pockets bulging with family assets seized through churning cases, are never reported and move on to the next case.
Unfortunately, my ex is apparently not done with me yet. It seems he will not be satisfied until he has kept his promise to make me destitute and not satisfied unless I am homeless. He continues to use his attorneys to prevent me from reclaiming what belonged to me, to refuse to uphold his end of the unconscionable agreement, and continue his legalized harassment.
However, I also know that in the middle of this July day, this ninety degree winter of domestic abuse, I found a fleeting pocket of joy today. As I longingly looked out the window at my poor garden, overgrown with five-foot tall weeds, I saw that fleeting pocket of joy. The weeds are so pervasive, it is difficult to see the pink and white stargazer lilies, blue balloon flowers, and purple coneflowers that have somehow hidden themselves from the voracious deer’s nightly feeding frenzies. Right there, I saw it. An emerald glimmer of beauty darting from one orange lily to another. A tiny hummingbird, and then a florescent yellow goldfinch, visiting my garden which only moments before seemed hopelessly, irretrievably choked off from anything resembling its former self as a source of joy.
I must remind myself to nurture my garden, to hold onto those fleeting pockets of joy in relationships, and realize that, despite my current life of destitution, I AM capable of new ways to nurture healthy relationships with my sons, of creating things of beauty, and giving to others to make this world a better place.
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