I fired my divorce attorney last week; I should have done it sooner. I hired him on advice from a counselor at church, but from the beginning there were red flags, starting with his 'modern chaos.' office decor. On my first visit, I saw boxes haphazardly stacked around the room and paintings leaned against walls as though he was just moving in, or maybe out. Trouble was, that never changed, but because I myself am a messy housekeeper, I didn't judge too harshly.  
    As the months drug on - eighteen of them, to be exact - his lack of housekeeping became the least of my worries. Days and sometimes weeks would pass without my phone calls being returned, and as my court date drew near, I began to feel desperate, irrelevant, and even invisible.   
     Finally, four days before we were due in court, with no case prepared that I was aware of, self-preservation made me pick up the phone and hire another attorney, one who I hope will be my advocate. The following morning, the judge granted a postponement of our court date.
     I am now living for January 3, 2014. 



Update: January 13, 2014
Another postponement. I am now living for February 11, 2014. 


Update April 13, 2014
Another postponement. I am now living for August 29, 2014   
 
 
     A friend once told me that money is coined life. Those words reverberated in my mind the day I learned how little the last 30 years of my life might be worth. As I drove home, I tried to console myself with the knowledge that having raised and schooled my seven children was its own reward, but the truth stung like my welling tears; I had traded my life for theirs, and there is little coin to be had in that bargain.      
 
 
     I can't say when I first began to suspect that I was invisible, only that I have no memory of not feeling so.  As a child, I was timid and self-conscious, fearful of embarrassing my parents or myself, so I stayed as quiet as possible and was relieved to go unnoticed.  By the time I was in my teenage years, I had become an attractive girl, fair of face and figure, and not being noticed was no longer an option,.  But while my physical-self received  attention to spare, my soul-self remained always in the shadows. 
     My boyfriend loved me, of that I was sure, but never more than he loved his own dreams. When I married my first husband, he saw only the girl he wanted me to be, choosing to believe that I was ready to be married, in spite of my words to the contrary.  Our brief relationship ended in divorce, but produced my first born son.  I remarried, and at once began to pay the price of what scripture calls, 'being unequally yoked.' God help us all.   
     Six children soon followed, and it became easier to believe that I was a woman of substance, not shadow.  Their interests became my interests, and their dreams, mine.  Through the years, I rode their coat tails into the future, pretending that I had a life of my own and had not merely co-opted theirs.  
     And now, after 30 long and lonely years, my lifeless marriage is mercifully coming to an end, and I realize I have never been more than wallpaper; wallpaper against which all things more important have been arranged.  My children, now grown, have moved on to more interesting backdrops, and my husband, well, he never did see the beauty of my pattern, and after years spent without protection from life's elements, it has all but faded away.    

 

KarenGrace Reflections of an Invisible Woman