CONFESSIONS OF A THIRTY-SOMETHING YEAR OLD
I Got Divorced on My Boss’s Bed
Marriage is pronounced. Divorce is granted.
On December 10, 2020 over virtual court the State of New Jersey granted me my divorce. Although my ex-husband and I separated in June 2015 and tried co-parenting throughout the years, there was no heavier weight lifted off of me than the one when the Court “ordered and adjudged” that the [prison] marriage be dissolved and that each of us be freed and discharged from the obligation thereof.
With those choice of words, I think the “Court” pronounces people into a damn prison. Apparently over 53% of those same couples decide to escape the prison system. For many divorcees, they end up with more debt, financial court obligations (child and/or spousal support), and a bad taste in their mouth about matrimony.
On the afternoon I was freed, I was at my boss’s house that converts into our office during business hours. Once the judge called my name after about two and a half hours and listening to all the divorce cases for the day, my boss allowed me to take the video call in her bedroom for some privacy. Prior to this day, I always wondered how I would feel at this very moment. Was I going to be emotional? Happy? Regretful? None of the above applied.
I was indifferent.
This was simply paperwork. Just legal matters. Simply logistics. And of course, my ex-husband didn’t show up which wasn’t a surprise since he hadn’t shown up in our marriage or family for all the years leading up to this.
The judge reviewed all of the requests including child custody/arrangements which I totally messed up but she informed me that I could always return to those matters in the future with a modification. I was willing to file a modification in the future regarding the children just so I can get the divorce part over with. The judge made sure I understood and was of a sound mind.
I thought to myself: “Your Honor, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Everything sounded like music to my ears but I just had to make sure I was granted my name change since I made sure to include it on my paperwork. After 10 years and 1 month of being legally bound in hell, the judge freed me and was the first to address me as Ms. Maldonado.
I always hated labels, stereotypes, and stigmas. I never wanted to be a statistic as I navigated through life. “Divorcee” was just going to be another label under others I’ve had throughout the years — unwed teen mom, single mom, welfare recipient, homeless/impoverished. The truth is labels are a part of life. They may help to identify us in periods of our lives (whether positive or negative) but we can never allow them to define who we are for a lifetime.
Divorce isn’t shameful nor does it define us. It doesn’t make us unlovable or unforgivable. Divorce, just like marriage, is a choice. After all the years of uncertainty, I chose me and it was the best decision I ever made.
Side Note: A few days later, my daughter told me that her father was in Puerto Rico on December 10th. Ironically enough, on December 10, 2021 — exactly one year of my divorce — I was in Puerto Rico celebrating life and success.
