The Big Split, Part II

The Big Split, Part I, can be found here.

When I get emotional, I get symptoms. Severe fatigue, hives, sore joints, and aching lungs have all shown up at one point or another, over the years. The theme for my divorce years was a terrible heaviness, like gravity had been multiplied a dozen times. There were days when I could barely pull myself up off my sofa. At times I thought I might not be able to keep working. I don't know how I managed to hang on to my job.

After my ex and I had lived apart for one year, according to Ontario law, we were permitted to begin divorce proceedings. But first we had to figure out what to do about the house we had bought with his mother. I had to get my name off the mortgage and have it signed over to the two of them.

We had agreed that if he would handle this changeover with the bank, I would handle the paperwork for the actual divorce. I can't prove this, but I strongly suspect that he was not in any hurry to finalize things. It took 14 months to get the house ownership transferred.

That done, it was time to fill in the divorce papers. I'm sure you know the saying: "A man who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client." Well, lawyers charge a pretty penny, but it only costs $400 to get divorced in Ontario if you fill in your own paperwork, so I decided to be that fool.

The process of filling in those papers was one of the most difficult that I have ever been through. And it wasn't because of the content, either. We had vastly simplified things by transferring ownership of the house before proceeding with the divorce. There was no contested property and we had no children. All I had to do, essentially, was fill in our names, addresses, and dates of birth on around a dozen forms, answer checklists of simple questions, and then get us both down to the courts to sign them all in front of a notary public.

However, because of my emotional state, mired deep in grief and depression, I may as well have been writing a university-level biology exam in Greek. I would stare at a form asking for my name and address, and my mind would go absolutely blank. I forced myself to answer one question at a time, using all my willpower to push through the artificial confusion. It was like running in a nightmare, when your limbs are made of lead and you can't move forward.

Finally, after a lot of effort, all the papers were complete. I brought them to the courthouse to have them checked by a clerk before setting a date with my ex to do the final signing. I took a subway train downtown and then walked two blocks to the court building. The sidewalk was flat, but the heaviness was so great that I felt as though I were struggling up a steep slope all the way there. Every step was like climbing a mountain. It took all my strength to keep going.

When I finally got into the proper office and found the correct clerk, I thought that I might faint. He was very kind and patient with me, going over all the papers and reassuring me that I had done them correctly. My legs were rubbery as I left. The hardest part was yet to come.

To Be Continued...