Too hot..
The weather is too hot for me... I'm hiding in the house where it's a bit cooler, but still slowly melting.
In other news, I'm still not divorced. I just had to send yet another list of my stuff that's left in the house to my solicitor, because Paul won't speak to me on the phone to sort things out. It's now beyond a joke with what's going on, and it's doing my health no good whatsoever. My solicitor has been communicating with Paul's solicitors and there's currently an argument over who gets to divorce whom. I, naturally want mine to go through, and Paul wants his to go through. The thing is, from what my solicitor has told me, if Paul goes with his divorce, he has to swear under oath that the particulars are true and correct. If he does, then he will be committing perjury. There's enough proof that his particulars are a fabrication out there, so he can't plead that it was what he saw from his point of view.
This is not confirmation of service of his papers by the way. They were sent to my solicitor and I only know about the particulars third hand. I originally wrote a cross-petition, so I had to know some of the stuff he'd written, and trust me, it's a load of crap. The problem with the cross petition is that it costs 300 quid to submit it to the courts, which is 300 quid more than I have spare. Actually, it's 300 quid more than I have, never mind spare. To get fee exemption, there's a time limit to get proof of income in. My solicitor had to ask the benefits service for proof... The time limit is 14 days. The benefits service take 3 weeks... Needless to say, I can't get fee exemption, so that's the cross petition out the window.
My divorce was issued in late January or early February, and only recently have we had anything from his solicitors. They've been whining that their divorce was issued first. I don't give a monkey's chuff. At least mine is accurate.
Well Mr B's solicitors, kindly ask your client if his particulars are in fact the truth or a complete load of utter bollocks fabricated to make him look like a poor, long-suffering husband instead of the ignorant, selfish, bullying wife-beater he really is.
A small snippet...
Paul said I was constantly ill. I was off work in 2002 for 6 months caused by depression, which he didn't help by having an online affair with an American, which I found out about while still ill. Nice, huh? I was also off work from June 2005 and was given ill health severance in April 2006 because of a balance disorder following a partial thyroidectomy to remove a tumour on my thyroid. During this period of illness, I found out he was having "fun" with a friend of mine, parked in his car in the car park behind her house. He's such a caring husband, isn't he?
After that I apparently had a couple of days work here and there working for an agency after I was ill. The truth is that I worked one day in an HR department at one company, then the following week started working in HR in another company in town. I was a temp there for 3 months, then they took me on for a 9 month contract, so I was there for a year total. Hardly a few days here and there.
Paul accused me of hiding the mail. First off, he was told less than 24 hours after I left where all the mail was, since he was looking for some tickets to something that he had ordered. I had moved it from its customary open cardboard box next to where he parked his bike every day to a black bag in the same place, as I needed the box to pack some of my more delicate things in. I regularly (for regularly read "every time it got to a state where I could hardly open the door") scraped his mail off the hall carpet and shoved it in the box, because he never picked any mail up off the floor. There were piles of mail in the hall, dining room, living room... Just about everywhere really. There's enough people who saw it too to prove him a liar. I generally opened my mail. He waitied for people to phone him asking for cash rather than dealing with paper bills that came through the door. I sometimes paid them anyway rather than wait for the "Final demand-pay-up-or-get-cut-off" letters.
Paul said I admitted that I wanted to have sex with another man which he found hurtful. Hurtful my ass. The truth has been documented here: he told me to go get it elsewhere because he was dysfunctional. I was staying with friends the weekend of that conversation, and they were witnesses to the whole lot. More proof of his lies.
Ah well, if he insists on being done for perjury, that's fine. Last person I can think of getting done for it was Jeffrey Archer, and he went to prison for it. Your choice Mr B.
I know he probably doesn't read this, but perhaps someone could give him a hint that it might be worth his while to take a quick squint at this one. It's for his own good. Really.
While you're reading this Mr B, just a little heads up about something your "friends" have been saying. There's some who have met the bird, and frankly one comment that keeps getting mentioned is that it looks like you're dating your gran. Their words, not mine. I at least have the guts to put it in public what people are saying. I've never met her, so I have no clue what she looks like, so the opinions are not mine. I'm just passing on the comments that you will never hear from them.
Ah well, shrink again tomorrow to try and get through the mess that's been left in my head by Mr B. I'm still having nightmares, not sleeping properly, eating too little and my doctor has already complained that I'm dehydrated because I'm not looking after myself. The Bear is doing his best, blessim, but he's getting really annoyed about the situation I've been left in and the callous treatment that I'm getting from Mr B. This is one of my better days where I managed to go out, but didn't really like being away from the house.
The good news is that I've managed not to self-harm for a couple of weeks now, so that's a bit of progress. Mind you, it's probably because digging bloody great holes in myself no longer hurts. I don't have any painkillers in my house either, so that means I can't overdose on them either. It hasn't stopped me thinking about it tho.
Ho hum... 3 month waiting list for psychiatric treatment for the PTSD... I'll wait... I just want to get past this whole mess and move on.
The bit I find unfair is that Paul has a life, a job, a house, money, good health and can go where he wants, when he wants. I am stuck indoors most of the time, can't work, get a pittance from the government that has to cover all my bills, rented accommodation that's not secure as the lease is being sold at the moment, and my health is crap. I can't even go to Beltring because he will be there, and I can't be doing with living on temazepam and other tranquilisers just to go to a vehicle show. Mr B has contributed absolutely nothing to my health or wellbeing since the day I left. I tried to take things to the amicable stage and got a kick in the teeth when he posted in his blog (couldn't even tell me himself) that he was just making the right noises in the right places and wasn't even interested.
I'm in limbo. I want out. I want a life.
In other news, I'm still not divorced. I just had to send yet another list of my stuff that's left in the house to my solicitor, because Paul won't speak to me on the phone to sort things out. It's now beyond a joke with what's going on, and it's doing my health no good whatsoever. My solicitor has been communicating with Paul's solicitors and there's currently an argument over who gets to divorce whom. I, naturally want mine to go through, and Paul wants his to go through. The thing is, from what my solicitor has told me, if Paul goes with his divorce, he has to swear under oath that the particulars are true and correct. If he does, then he will be committing perjury. There's enough proof that his particulars are a fabrication out there, so he can't plead that it was what he saw from his point of view.
This is not confirmation of service of his papers by the way. They were sent to my solicitor and I only know about the particulars third hand. I originally wrote a cross-petition, so I had to know some of the stuff he'd written, and trust me, it's a load of crap. The problem with the cross petition is that it costs 300 quid to submit it to the courts, which is 300 quid more than I have spare. Actually, it's 300 quid more than I have, never mind spare. To get fee exemption, there's a time limit to get proof of income in. My solicitor had to ask the benefits service for proof... The time limit is 14 days. The benefits service take 3 weeks... Needless to say, I can't get fee exemption, so that's the cross petition out the window.
My divorce was issued in late January or early February, and only recently have we had anything from his solicitors. They've been whining that their divorce was issued first. I don't give a monkey's chuff. At least mine is accurate.
Well Mr B's solicitors, kindly ask your client if his particulars are in fact the truth or a complete load of utter bollocks fabricated to make him look like a poor, long-suffering husband instead of the ignorant, selfish, bullying wife-beater he really is.
A small snippet...
Paul said I was constantly ill. I was off work in 2002 for 6 months caused by depression, which he didn't help by having an online affair with an American, which I found out about while still ill. Nice, huh? I was also off work from June 2005 and was given ill health severance in April 2006 because of a balance disorder following a partial thyroidectomy to remove a tumour on my thyroid. During this period of illness, I found out he was having "fun" with a friend of mine, parked in his car in the car park behind her house. He's such a caring husband, isn't he?
After that I apparently had a couple of days work here and there working for an agency after I was ill. The truth is that I worked one day in an HR department at one company, then the following week started working in HR in another company in town. I was a temp there for 3 months, then they took me on for a 9 month contract, so I was there for a year total. Hardly a few days here and there.
Paul accused me of hiding the mail. First off, he was told less than 24 hours after I left where all the mail was, since he was looking for some tickets to something that he had ordered. I had moved it from its customary open cardboard box next to where he parked his bike every day to a black bag in the same place, as I needed the box to pack some of my more delicate things in. I regularly (for regularly read "every time it got to a state where I could hardly open the door") scraped his mail off the hall carpet and shoved it in the box, because he never picked any mail up off the floor. There were piles of mail in the hall, dining room, living room... Just about everywhere really. There's enough people who saw it too to prove him a liar. I generally opened my mail. He waitied for people to phone him asking for cash rather than dealing with paper bills that came through the door. I sometimes paid them anyway rather than wait for the "Final demand-pay-up-or-get-cut-off" letters.
Paul said I admitted that I wanted to have sex with another man which he found hurtful. Hurtful my ass. The truth has been documented here: he told me to go get it elsewhere because he was dysfunctional. I was staying with friends the weekend of that conversation, and they were witnesses to the whole lot. More proof of his lies.
Ah well, if he insists on being done for perjury, that's fine. Last person I can think of getting done for it was Jeffrey Archer, and he went to prison for it. Your choice Mr B.
I know he probably doesn't read this, but perhaps someone could give him a hint that it might be worth his while to take a quick squint at this one. It's for his own good. Really.
While you're reading this Mr B, just a little heads up about something your "friends" have been saying. There's some who have met the bird, and frankly one comment that keeps getting mentioned is that it looks like you're dating your gran. Their words, not mine. I at least have the guts to put it in public what people are saying. I've never met her, so I have no clue what she looks like, so the opinions are not mine. I'm just passing on the comments that you will never hear from them.
Ah well, shrink again tomorrow to try and get through the mess that's been left in my head by Mr B. I'm still having nightmares, not sleeping properly, eating too little and my doctor has already complained that I'm dehydrated because I'm not looking after myself. The Bear is doing his best, blessim, but he's getting really annoyed about the situation I've been left in and the callous treatment that I'm getting from Mr B. This is one of my better days where I managed to go out, but didn't really like being away from the house.
The good news is that I've managed not to self-harm for a couple of weeks now, so that's a bit of progress. Mind you, it's probably because digging bloody great holes in myself no longer hurts. I don't have any painkillers in my house either, so that means I can't overdose on them either. It hasn't stopped me thinking about it tho.
Ho hum... 3 month waiting list for psychiatric treatment for the PTSD... I'll wait... I just want to get past this whole mess and move on.
The bit I find unfair is that Paul has a life, a job, a house, money, good health and can go where he wants, when he wants. I am stuck indoors most of the time, can't work, get a pittance from the government that has to cover all my bills, rented accommodation that's not secure as the lease is being sold at the moment, and my health is crap. I can't even go to Beltring because he will be there, and I can't be doing with living on temazepam and other tranquilisers just to go to a vehicle show. Mr B has contributed absolutely nothing to my health or wellbeing since the day I left. I tried to take things to the amicable stage and got a kick in the teeth when he posted in his blog (couldn't even tell me himself) that he was just making the right noises in the right places and wasn't even interested.
I'm in limbo. I want out. I want a life.
posted by Me at 3:47 pm
1 Comments:
And you fully deserve a life. He has put you through hell hasn't he? And I hate that leaving him didn't even end your hell. I worry about you, constantly. And everytime you update something sad on facebook it breaks my heart. you're a strong woman and you can and will get through this.
And when I have moved, theres always a place for you in my home if you need it. Always. I know it's hard, sounds hard a fuck, but somewhere there is a light at the end of the tunnel, just keep looking for it.
<3
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