I needed to find a lawyer and I needed to find one fast. On Sunday, I spoke with a friend’s daughter, who happened to be a family practice attorney. She explained the process to me, answered all of my queries, sounded very competent, was very nice and easy to talk to. The only drawback was that her practice was in downtown Chicago. I lived in a northern suburb (about 30 miles away) and in a different county, which could have potentially presented some problems down the road. I also had the names of two other attorneys in my area whom I wanted to consult with as well and called them up on Monday morning. One couldn’t see me until Friday morning (too long of a wait). The other had an opening that afternoon at 4:00, which I immediately secured. HIs office was 10 minutes from my home. The convenience seemed like a perk, especially if I would be needing to go there on a regular basis. We talked for quite a while. He seemed aggressive in his approach as to how he would handle my case (which was what I needed). He wanted to get to court as soon as possible to file for divorce on the grounds of irreconcilable differences and mental cruelty and get an emergency TRO (“temporary restraining order”) to prevent my husband from spending the money he took out of our account. Since I didn’t have the luxury of time to meet the other attorney in person, I hired this one. At that moment, I felt confident in my decision. Truth be told…what did I really know about divorce attorneys and how credible they were?
Discussing my upcoming divorce with him seemed so surreal. After all the years of wanting to end my marriage and finding a million excuses why I wasn’t ready to do it, (not that I was really ready at that point either) I was actually going through with it. Suddenly my mind was flooded with all of the thoughts, questions, fears and concerns that kept me paralyzed from moving forward for so long. How was I going to handle the stress of a divorce when I had so many other issues to contend with as well? How was I going to make it on my own? How would I manage financially? Would I grow old alone and unloved?
At that point I decided to resign myself to the fact that I wouldn’t have to wonder much longer. What choice did I really have? In the grand scheme of things, it was time to move forward. So why I was feeling that I was about to be pushed out of an airplane without instructions on how to open my parachute as I catapulted toward the ground?