It was December 2001 and that was when I started to "clean house".
J was in jail, sitting on warrants out for his arrest, for unpaid support.
This was the third time. I couldn't afford to keep bailing him out, especially when we was running from the law (all of which I didn't know until AFTER the wedding!).
I got pissed. I was upset. I was angry. I cried. I screamed. I hated him. I was mad at what he did to me. I was mad for what he did to our family. I was hurt. I started packing boxes, filling then with everything that belonged to him. I piled everything in the back of his van. In the boxes, just to be mean (kinda), I threw in a couple of our wedding invitations, just for the "turning the knife" factor.
I then spoke with the attorney on New Year's Eve, signed on the lines, and they served him the papers while he sat in jail. I had my doubts, I had my fears, I didn't trust him, but his van was packed, his stuff was out of my house, and the keys were in the vehicle, waiting for him to drive away.
