I Live on Edge Because I Live With My Separated Husband

I’m in survival mode

No one tells you that the divorce process is arduous.

If I had known it would move as slow as lard, I’d have started this in 2018 with the hope of finalizing it in 2025. Almost everything has to be done in sequence (not in parallel) which means I can’t move out until my name is off the home loan, I can’t get my name off the home loan until certain papers are filed by the court, and those can’t be filed until my husband is served my petition for dissolution of marriage.

And that file is sitting with the county court. I imagine it as a brown envelope on someone’s desk, begging to be opened. In reality, it was sent electronically. But that’s less melodramatic in my mind.

There’s no doubt that I’m getting fucked financially in this divorce. Joseph had so many meltdowns (while we were imprisoned together due to the pandemic) that I developed PTSD from his hysterics and rage. I just want to get the bare minimum cash that I can and get the hell out.

This morning, a well-intentioned friend of mine told me I should hold off until the housing market improves. “Yeah, no shit Einstein,” I thought. I typed back that I’m not moving out to upgrade my living conditions; I’m moving out because I’m homeless, losing money because I’m essentially renting my current house.

My friend asked about Joseph’s inheritance, which is single-handedly the reason he can stay in our house because it’s not a shared asset in a divorce. I knew what she was getting at: why aren’t you putting the house on the market to drive up the value of your payout since he’s buying you out?

My real estate agent gave me the breakdown of what he would list our house for and what the approximate closing costs would be. Most likely, it would sell in 2 days with $100k over the asking price.

There is no way Joseph would willingly put the house on the market to see the “actual” market value of the house. Which means I’d have to pay big bucks for a lawyer. He’ll pay big bucks for a lawyer. Subtracting the cost of those legal bills would equal any additional money I could get from this house.

Even worse, we’d still live together while going through all of that. My anxiety skyrockets just imagining it.

Every time I tried to move the needle a little more in my favor, Joseph goes balls in with either a meltdown, rage, or legal threats. He tosses out, “this is war” and “now I’ll have to get the best lawyer in our county”. Not once have I brought up that I would get a lawyer.

To make it as amicable as possible, not only did I promise him I would never get a lawyer (despite his continued threats to do so), I did 8 months of side hustles to pay for mediation. During the financial session, when we discussed our income, I brought up that I don’t intend on continuing the side hustles once I finally acquire a home. Joseph didn’t like that I hadn’t put the side hustles as income on our financials; I pleaded with him to not count them because I’m only doing them to pay for the divorce and have a fighting chance at buying a house.

“You made a ton off Etsy last year,” he scoffed. “That’s because crafters like buying gifts in December so that’s when I made more,” I replied. “Which I used 100% to pay for this very mediation session. Last month I only made $120.”

Joseph gave me attitude when I noted that I shouldn’t pay 50% of the mortgage as rent when I’m officially off the loan. It took me a day to get the courage needed to ask for a calm, non-confrontational chat about it.

I pointed that I had been totally cool despite him backing out of the original plan to split his inheritance if he could get a postnup saying he gets half of mine (my parents are still alive), that I didn’t put the house on the market to drive up the price, and I didn’t pursue his inheritance despite it comingling with our marital funds.

Shaking, I asked him to throw me a bone because he won’t be homeless in this scenario. He has the house. I’m scraping every penny just for a fighting chance at getting a house in this market just to end up with a house 1/4th the size with a mortgage higher than his. Since Joseph is taking on the loan on his own after I move out, anything I provide him before that is pure profit (it’s not like I’m taking away from a potential renter who would provide him an income).

Immediately, Joseph said that it sounded like he needed to lawyer up because of my “threats”.

Pointing out my goodwill and chill attitude thus far to save a few hundred bucks doesn’t make them threats. I rushed to promise that I’d never get a lawyer, no matter what.

Yeah…so we agreed that I’ll pay 40% of the monthly mortgage, not 50%. I’m a smooth negotiator (eye roll). I didn’t push the issue because his immediate rush to threaten a lawyer intimidated me and I didn’t want to cause further discord while we’re in the same house.

I tiptoe when asking about the process to refinance. I’m at his mercy to get it done and he doesn’t have much incentive until any paperwork is officially filed (which is moving at the aforementioned pace of lard). I did all the administrative grunt work throughout our marriage and ironically, the one task I’m happy to complete is the one task I’m unable to do for him.

In the absence of any control in my situation while I wait, I created a spreadsheet with anything we own worth more than $100. Since he’s not moving out, it’ll be too easy for me to not consider the added costs of dishware or the modem.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. And I feverishly added everything to the spreadsheet.

I admit: I became somewhat irrational. The next few paragraphs may sound like the rant of a crazy person.

Joseph is keeping the entire equity put towards this house because that’s the sum of his inheritance. But that doesn’t factor in all the money I put into the house when we moved in. The house was gutted and renovated. The current house price doesn’t factor in that we have new flooring in the house or an epoxy coating in the garage. It doesn’t factor in the two new ceiling fans or the four new bathroom mirrors. It doesn’t factor in the nine areas that had recessed lighting put in or the fortune spent to replace the locks with Multi-locks on the absurdly high number of doors. It doesn’t factor in the spa tub or the new bath fixtures.

I’m not moving into another house needing repairs and replacements when I contributed to the replacement of items in this current house. I don’t care if they’re bolted to the ground. They were purchased after we bought the house. His inheritance didn’t cover all of that. And the market value of the home is going off of the original home’s appearance, not the upgrades and renovations.

Do I sound petty? Maybe. But just the cost of the bathroom fans and the towel shelf cost $100. I’m the one who spent months with young kids, one autistic, cooking them dinner after work in the living room or managing the contractors despite that I have an actual day job. Joseph didn’t do a thing other than arrive home at 8:30 pm to survey the rubble. I know the little details that I had to discuss with the contractors and I know how expensive it added up.

Heck, it’s not like I want to be reimbursed for the labor (which is 70% of the cost of a renovation). I just want a fair split of the items I bought after we moved in. I’m not considering things like the flooring, new cabinets, or new countertops. But I’m certainly putting in the price of the fancy-schmancy showerhead ($869) and kitchen range hood ($669). I want the value of the four bathroom mirrors ($400) and the new garbage disposal ($117). Don’t get me started on the solar panels.

Side note: before anyone flips out at the amount spent on things, this was supposed to be our Forever House. It was worth the investment so we wouldn’t have to replace things again later.

Great, spreadsheet complete. One problem…I have to get Joseph to buy in on this.

I spent most of the day shaking with anxiety at the thought of asking him to sit down with me to go over the list. This isn’t the fear of actually sitting down; this is the fear of asking to sit down to review the list. I’ve crumbled three times on my newly-installed grey-stained engineered hardwood floors with raging anxiety attacks because sticking up for myself always results in Joseph’s pushback.

I’m scared.

I’m scared that he’ll look at this list and not see that the items purchased count as new, as opposed to including them in the value of the house (our real estate agent didn’t go inside the house, he approximated the listing price which in hindsight maybe wasn’t the smartest idea). I’m scared that he’ll argue tooth and nail over every item. I’m scared that I’ll cave and let him have his way.

There’s another part of me that’s scared because I no longer have anything to lose; that part will say, “fine Joseph. I tried being fair. Bring on the lawyers.”

It’s late afternoon and I know it’s time for me to send the text asking Joseph to carve out time to review the spreadsheet so we can assign assets to each of us. My heart is racing and my hands are tingling numb from the anxiety. I choose to text because we rarely see each other during the day and if I bring it up with the kids around, they’ll bombard me with questions.

“Can you sit down with me this week to go over splitting up some of the bigger stuff? I made an Excel spreadsheet with $ attached. I figure we should try to do that now so if there are any disagreements, we can work with the mediator to figure it out. Plus that way we have an idea of what is needed to buy, etc.”

I sent the text two hours ago. I’m on Joseph Time for a reply, which will be a confirmation without an agreement on a date and time. Then, I’ll spend every evening this week asking him to sit down and he’ll reply with “Can we do it later, I’m not in the mood right now,” or “Let’s do it another day, I’m too tired.”

The point of this post isn’t about the dollar amounts that I’m spending on this divorce.

My point is that whether anything I say is irrational or not, the end result is Joseph threatening a lawyer. That’s if I’m lucky; at his worst, he threatens legal action while yelling and swearing.

I have no doubt that a year of social isolation with someone who threatens legal action and curses at me when I stand up for myself (even if it’s to tell him not to swear at me anymore) will result in me needing therapy for years to come.

And let me make it clear: I’m not completely innocent. I’ve had plenty of irrational moments. Hopefully I get a pass because I don’t yell, curse, or name-call. In the grand scheme, neither of us is behaving at our best.

First things first: get out of this house and end this marriage.