The Lies My Ex Spews (And Why We Shouldn't Do Drugs)

A couple of weeks ago, I had court again with my ex. We were there for the ongoing saga that is the child support issue, and thank you Lord, when I got there, BEST DAY EVER.

My regular judge was on vacation.

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And the stand-in judge looked like he needed about a gallon of coffee and a few grams of something illegal just to stay away for the next twenty minutes.

Basically, I loved that judge.

Unfortunately for me, before I even got the chance to have my case heard by this new, amazingly awesome judge, my ex asked Mr. Attorney Man if he could speak to me in the hall.

"Sure, why not," I said. I mean really, what could possibly go wrong in that situation (besides of course, everything).

I'd like to say that I agreed to do it because I had suddenly adopted some primal warrior attitude that was giving me the bravery I had previously lacked, but I'd be totally lying. Rather, that morning I was feeling rather stoic about the whole thing. I hadn’t been scared to walk into the court room, but I honestly think it's because my ex has dragged me through so much over the last few years, that I have begun to feel almost numb as of late. Abuse, rape, infidelity, lies, addiction, financial ruin, abandonment, hurt children, stalking, new wives, new children, and a never-ending court process, has all lead me to a place where I just feel numb to his destruction of me.

I really don’t think there are many more ways that he can hurt me. 

So into the hallway I went, where he began to spew his lies and play his victim card, and in turn, forget "stoic," because I instantly felt like my head was going to explode.

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“You took out a car insurance policy on my car, and when you got into an accident, my rates went up!” he hissed.

It was then that I made the snap decision that rather than physically attack his lying ass and get myself thrown in jail, I would take the high road...

... and passive aggressively chat with him.

Because why not.

It's not like my goal was to try and befriend the man again, and logical conversation had long since proven pointless, so why not take the opportunity to entertain myself a bit?

I'm awful, I know. I've thought about it, and I'm fine with it.

“That doesn’t even make any sense” I told him flatly. “Why would I spend my money, to put you on my car insurance? Also, I haven’t had any claims run through my insurance, and even if I did, why would that affect your rates if I'm not on whatever policy you have?”

“Well you did!” he told me, arguing his position as fact before launching into all of his other complaints, which included the way I modified my home loan and why I had done it illegally (I did not), and the stress of a second job that he supposedly had to get just to pay his child support obligations.

A job he then refused to disclose to me and Mr. Attorney Man, because “it’s none of your business!”

Except that it is, because by law, I’m entitled to know about any and all of his employment.

But nope, not in ex’s world, where the planet revolves entirely around him and his agenda.

"It is my business" I said, "so what is the job?"

"None of your business" he replied.

"It is my business" I said, "so what is the job?"

"None of your business" he replied.

"It is my business," I said, "so what is the job?"

And no, you didn't lose your place, I'm just repeating myself because that is exactly what the two of us did for the next three minutes; both of us in some stupid power struggle that I was DETERMINED to win.

I will win, because not only was I freakishly enjoying his extreme level of annoyance, but also because I live with two children who have trained me well for this!

"Can I have some cookies?" "No, you can't have any cookies because we are eating dinner." "Can I have two cookies?" "No you cannot have two cookies because we are eating dinner." "Can I have one cookie?" "No, you can't have a cookie because we are eating dinner." "How many cookies can I have?" "You cannot have any cookies because we are eating dinner." "Can I just have two cookies?" "No cookies, because we are eating dinner!!!"

I HAVE BEEN TRAINING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR THE PAST SEVEN YEARS.

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"It's none of your business" he said again, to which of course, I asked him again what the job was.

“IT’S JUST STOCKING” he finally blurted out when I broke his will after I asked him 5 times in a row what the job was.

“Stocking what?” I replied.

“Nothing” he said.

“You stock nothing? I inquired.

“Nothing you need to know about” he said.

“Is it a legal job?” I asked.

“YES!” he said with such exasperation that he followed it up with “they pay me taxes!”

“They… pay… you… taxes” I said slowly.

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“I pay taxes to them, whatever, it’s none of your business” he relented in a way that assured me his head was now dangerously close to exploding.

When I reminded him that legally all of his income was my business, he avoided the subject by launching into how he would like to make it known that he does not appreciate me hiring someone to follow him around and investigate him.

Oh that's good. That's real good.

An exact replication of him and I at that moment:

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I didn’t hire anyone, and if I had, I probably hired the wrong guy because I had no idea that my ex was married with kids, and has a second job.

BUT WHATEVER.

This paranoia is why we don’t do drugs, kids! This is classic drug use at its best, and it is a prime example of what it was like to live with him. Nothing ever made any sense, and in his world, all of his illogical daydreams were out to get him.

Eventually Mr. Attorney Man got tired of the two of us bickering (Read: ex making shit up and me taking great delight in sarcastically poking him), and ushered us back into the court room. When court was done and we were walking down to the elevator, Mr. Attorney Man commented on how much I’ve changed, and how I’ve gone from being so terrified of my ex, to willingly standing less than two feet from him.

“Well,” I began to explain. "The thing is, I’ve realized that I survived all the hell he put me through, and there isn’t much that he can do to me in a court house. I mean really, at best, he could get like one punch in before someone would tackle him. I can take one punch.”

Yet even though it was said in jest, there is a lot of truth to it. I’m not scared of him in court anymore. I’m not scared to stand in front of him and pry into the lies he tries to feed me. And I’d love to say that it’s because I feel a lot stronger now, but I’d be lying.

I honestly feel like I’m just not scared anymore, because I’ve become so desensitized to the ways in which he can hurt me, that my fear of him has just been washed away with the rest of my damaged emotions.

When I walked out of court that morning and saw him next to my car, I stood there for a few minutes before walking over, getting into my car, and driving away.

I then pulled over into a lot a few blocks over and completely melted down.