As the endless months of this brutal legal battle dragged on, my heart raced with desperate fury—I poured every ounce of my soul into fighting it, treating the case as my only job, my frantic lifeline. Tears soaked the pages as I pored over court rules deep into the night, my fingers shaking while I unraveled Mitchell’s every cruel tactic, exposing his ruthless plan to seize full control and wipe me from Samuel’s world. His lies cut me like shards of glass, but I struck back fiercely, arming myself with unassailable evidence to escape the dark trap he’d set, my breath ragged with terror at losing my everything.
Forged in betrayal’s blaze, I fiercely believe the first filer grabs a savage edge—I’ve seen it crush souls in those hollow courtrooms, friends collapsing under ambushes, strangers sobbing beside me, all blindsided like I was. My spirit cries for change! Demand a law that strips away these cowardly strikes: Force the betrayer to confront their spouse face-to-face first—no lawyers shielding them—just raw truth to expose the pain together. And mandate a six-month cooling-off in every state, a compassionate breath to steady shattered thoughts, tame emotional tempests, and perhaps salvage dialogue if any kindness lingers.
But no—these surprise assaults explode without mercy, gutting us, rattling our foundations until we’re left gasping, weeping, adrift in agony. Ordinary folks like me, who’ve never faced those looming, frigid court halls—monoliths of gleaming wood and thunderous gavels that devour us, magnifying every fear until we tremble. My legs still weaken recalling that first step inside, pulse hammering like doom. We deserve grace, not this carnage—a chance to mend before predators circle.
From the nightmare’s brutal dawn, the court shoves the Domestic Relations Standing Order (DRSO) at me—a “fair play” manifesto signed by every judge, commanding status quo: No selling assets, no cutting utilities, credit, or family ties. It vows to protect the weak from financial tyrants. Yet Mitchell defies it brazenly, stabbing my heart with each violation, while I battle alone as pro se, filing frantic motions—hands quaking in rage—to demand enforcement and end his chaos.
He rips me from his health insurance, exposing me to ruinous illness; ignores Samuel’s dental bills, letting my boy’s pain mount as I panic; erases me from all accounts, obliterating our shared life like trash. And the judges? They blatantly ignore my cries, refusing hearings—their inaction a profound abuse of discretion, trampling justice by dismissing pro se pleas and letting one party flout rules without consequence, eroding trust in the system and perpetuating harm on the vulnerable.
Months of torment later, I scrape funds for an attorney, my evidence towering—emails, proofs of his breaches—begging them to confront the judge and halt this torment. They dismiss it, whispering, “Don’t upset the judge.” Upset him? Fury ignites me—why safeguard a gavel’s pride over a mother’s life? My existence crumbles: Financial access vanishes, bills cascade into collections, debts he once handled now spectral threats. My credit plunges from 700s to 439, barring any lifeline as I fight to survive.
With every aching fiber, I condemn those cowardly lawyers and callous judges—they betray the DRSO they signed, mocking justice. Six years I limp without insurance, a walking dread of untreated ills, until pride crumbles and I claim state aid. Fair? Mitchell hoards six figures in comfort while courts dump me on taxpayers—why absolve him, burdening the public? My soul howls at this raw shame.
Worse, I swallow humiliation daily, lugging food bank bags for Samuel and me, rummaging thrift stores for scraps, hands raw from survival. I sneak these heart-wrenching runs during school hours, hiding my tears and hunger from his pure eyes—sparing him the sight of Mommy’s stripped dignity. How can courts, equity’s guardians, let high-earners like Mitchell thrive while the other spirals into poverty, taxing the state? This blind spot shreds me—a hypocritical “family” court where might crushes mercy. How many endure this daily nationwide, at what taxpayer toll? I’m eternally thankful for the aid, but the system never should have excused Mitchell’s duty amid our case.
Leave a Reply