Our Only Real Asset Was His Mind

…the thing the judge never understood

Today, I have the privilege of working with my therapist on the issues of retraumatization of my divorce. I know it’s a privilege. But its also necessary if I am going to get my life in order after the disaster of the past two plus years.

I am grateful to have her and her skillset. It’s not my first rodeo with trauma therapy. I wish it were so. I wish so many things right now.

Yesterday, as I received the final orders from the judge, I realized that there was one simple thing that she had never understood, no matter how hard I tried to explain.

There were no real marital assets. He owned his car, my car, the kids car…and we have a house. The house was bought 21 years ago, with my dad’s help. Without dad, we would never have had a house…ever.

That’s because my ex was in school for 20 years. I helped pay off his bachelor’s degree until he started his master’s. Then, when he started his doctorate, my dad paid off his master’s degree.

We had the debt remaining on my car, the house, and his doctorate’s loans. We have a little equity in the house-because it was refinanced a little while back, but it is not really significant and we live in the Midwest, so the house isn’t worth much, no matter.

I remember joking my now-ex during and after his final degree that everything we had worked for, for over 20 years, was in his head. I had sacrificed everything for his education. My life had been put on hold. I had worked three jobs out of the house, homeschooled, managed our bills and home-life alone. I had orchestrated the taking out of the trash, the fixing up of a constantly breaking-down home, and cutting of the acres of grass.

But I had done it willingly. Because his education was someday going to pay off. And our family was finally going to have a dad…and I was going to have a husband. Boy, was I wrong.

I had no idea that years later, it all would come back to bite me in the butt. All of that sacrifice left me scrambling and with the entire load of marital debt. He has his car, 50K in his pocket (from me), his education, his retirement, and his six figure income because of that education.

I have an old farmhouse and 150K of debt, four children who need a parent still, my schooling to finish (2.5 years worth), and no retirement or savings, let alone a decent income.

Yes, I work. I work a lot. But, here, where I live does not offer work that pays enough to make my bills. A clock in-clock out job would not even pay my mortgage. But these days, my studies need to take the front row seat, no matter.

Because someday, I will have to pay off all that debt. I will never have a doctorate. Even if I wanted one, I will never have that privilege. I will never make six figures either, because I will likely never work that much. I will need to be present with my children through all of their life’s transitions and celebrations.

I will be there to prepare for weddings and welcome grandchildren. I will be there to help move into homes and celebrate holidays. Something traditional would not work. So, my creativity will have to win out here.

My greatest asset has always been my mind, but it has not had a dollar sign attached to it. My mind was the creative genius that cared for a family of 6, living under the poverty level for nearly 20 years. My children did not suffer. I am lucky enough to have connections and live in a place that had scholarships for children’s choirs, robotics, scouting, and dance. They have wonderful memories of these years of their lives. I am so grateful.

My creative genius took everything off his plate to ensure his success and juggled it so he didn’t have to worry about anything but his schooling. Yes, I know, I’m a glutton for punishment. And I did suffer…a lot.

My mind and body are still suffering and will for some time. It takes a long time to recover from the kind of abuse I endured. And yet…I have no choice but to continue getting up in the morning, clock in at work, do my homework, feed and care for kids through a pandemic and beyond, and try to heal.

She didn’t get it because she couldn’t. It’s too complicated and complex for someone who wanted to simply run numbers. So she ran numbers and I lost. I lost in every way possible. I lost for the entirety of the 27 years of the marriage. And now I lose for 30 more years paying it off.

I was the only one in that courtroom she didn’t understand, my brother (a lawyer) told me. The other men in the room all had their PhD’s or JD’s. I was the homeschool mom, with an almost-bachelor’s degree. I had worked (likely) harder than any of them had for the past three decades of my life. But I, unlike them, had nothing to show for it in the bank.

I have my children. And that will sustain me through this. It has to.

Single Mom Life 101, complete.