In an earlier post titled “Sometimes I Need a Little Help“, I introduced you to DivorceCare in a story about the first holiday season after Butch and I separated. It’s a story about how DivorceCare helped me at a time when I didn’t even know I needed help. The experience revealed to me that in order to get through the experience of divorce, there were going to be times when I would need help. The holidays were just the first lesson.
The next lesson began shortly after our divorce was final on December 2, 2015.
The first thing you should understand before I tell you my story is that during our marriage Butch handled most of our finances. We talked about them and made decisions together although I relied heavily on his opinions regarding the best decision to make. I knew what was going on with our finances; I just didn’t do any of the actual work. I also knew that I was unprepared for financial life on my own.
During our separation and the process of divorce, Butch and I kept all our finances together just like they were during our marriage. However, before our divorce was final we had already separated some things that each of us used frequently like credit cards and our Amazon account. We were going to file our income taxes jointly in 2015 for the last time since our divorce was final so near the end of the year. Since Butch had all the records, he gathered all of that up for our CPA. I was very glad about that because, as I explained, that sort of thing was completely out of my wheelhouse. I definitely did not have those skills in my toolbox. (Let’s see. Is there one more cliche I can use? Nope, can’t think of one.) With the divorce final, we began separating our finances in earnest. Untangling is a better word for it because, after forty-six years of marriage, money and assets had really gotten tangled up.
There were some things like the real estate we owned that were going to be complicated to work out. And then there were easier things like separating our cell phone bill which turned out to be somewhat difficult. I did that one because I was the primary account holder. However, I’m pleased to report that I managed quite well. And medical insurance. Oh, my, I don’t even want to think about that again much less write about it! Causes my heart to pound just to write that I don’t want to write about it. Simply put, there was a lot of work to do to untangle our accounts. Due to my financial inexperience, I faced a long, steep learning curve and one I had to manage very quickly. It was a baptism by fire.
All of the untangling usually began online, of course. And sometimes it could all be done online. But, as you know, something that’s done online always requires a password. Because I hardly ever logged into some of the accounts, seeing that box labeled “Password” made my mind slip into a fuzzy blankness. Password? What’s a password? Am I supposed to know that? All the untangling was very hard on my brain. And caused a lot of stress.
Besides the password thing, Butch and I had to sometimes communicate about where we were in the process with some account or other. Or the worst was one of us, usually me, made a mistake that required a lot of extra time to straighten out causing additional stress. Those conversations held their own brand of stress just because of the nature of our relationship post-divorce. We didn’t yell or call each other names. There was simply a lot of emotion around interacting with each other.
But, and this won’t surprise you if you’ve read many of my posts, I thought I was handling it just fine. Then I starting noticing that I was crying more than usual. I am a big cryer so I wasn’t alarmed until I found myself crumpled on the floor crying one afternoon. “Hmm…,” I said to myself, “Maybe this isn’t normal crying”.
Then came the afternoon when I was so frustrated and stressed that I turned off all the lights, pulled the drapes, fixed myself a drink and watched Netflix for the rest of the day. “Yep”, I said to myself, “this is definitely not normal.”
Shortly after that I was scheduled for a follow-up visit with my primary care doctor. I was determined to be honest about what was going on in my life and ask for an anti-depressant. So I did. He was very understanding and didn’t give me a hard time or ask a lot of judgmental questions. He asked questions, of course, but just normal need-to-know sorts of questions. And he wrote me a prescription. My first anti-depressant. Another first to put on my “First Things I’ve Done on My Own” list.
Just in case things weren’t crazy enough, I was going back to Australia for my nephew’s wedding in February. So in the midst of untangling and depression, I was planning and packing for a trip to the other side of the world. By the time I left, I had been taking the anti-depressant for only a few days and I couldn’t tell if it was working because of the travel. But at least I wasn’t lying on the floor crying with a drink in my hand.
When I got back from my trip, there was still some untangling to be done. I found I was better able to face the situation and the word “password” didn’t give me fuzzy brain. I think it was sometime in March by the time everything was settled. I remember sending an email to Butch describing some untangling issue I had untangled and thinking that’s it, the last thread is untangled. I sent the email and went for a run, a very invigorating, satisfying run.
Asking for help is never easy for me. And admitting that I needed medical help was especially hard to overcome. But I’m so glad I did. The medication relieved my depression so I could function. And no side effects. After about six months I felt like I didn’t need them and weaned myself off. Then I visited my new Austin dentist. After a very thorough examination, he explained to me that I needed a new crown and an old one needed to be re-done. I cried. That probably doesn’t surprise you like it surprised me. I went home and started taking the anti-depressant again. Apparently I wasn’t bullet-proof. Six months later, I weaned myself off again. I haven’t had to take them again, although I have learned enough not to pronounce myself bullet-proof.
Sometimes I need a little help. Yes, that was me saying that. It’s still very hard for me to ask for help. Whether it’s a big or little thing, it’s hard. But I’ve learned that if I ask and get help I feel better that I had a helper in the task or decision and my helper is happy that they could be, well, helpful. We are both blessed in the process. Even if my helper is my doctor and the help is an anti-depressant.
I’ve had to learn the lesson over and over again. And the lesson is: Need help? Make like Nike and just ask for it.
Thanks for dropping by for a read. I hope you found my story helpful.
Be safe and stay well,
Woodpile Kitty ATX
Woodpile Kitty 
Great reminder Kay!