Moving home – getting closer

I knew that I could push and push and come away with a phenomenal result. It was reasonable, there was precedent, I wasn’t being outrageous.
But… I thought about my man friend who’d spoken of the heartbreak and betrayal.

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After the court date with Mr Staff Sergeant Pollyanna last week it was determined that with some fuzzy maths and a lot of luck, me and Missy can move home and have it transferred into my name.  I would have a place where, as I keep up with the very reasonable mortgage payments, nobody would be able to make me homeless again, ever.

One of the very reasonable conditions was that I raise a mortgage for the value of the outstanding loan amount and also an amount to pay off Mr P because one of the houses had more equity than the other.  Mr P got house #2 plus some money, I got house #1 plus the kiddo and a mortgage.  It is fair.

After chatting with divorced friends and hearing how their court dates went before I had to attend our court date, I was anecdotally advised that things would go well.  Very well.  You never feel like that on the day or in the days preceding.  One lady friend spoke of very high percentages, one man friend spoke of being ripped off and left with nothing.

There reached a moment near the end of the day where, from my perspective, I had a choice.  Mr P was becoming unreasonable and irrational on some personal matters which had been substantiated by the government in relation to our daughter.

I knew that I could push and push and come away with a phenomenal result.  It was reasonable, there was precedent, I wasn’t being outrageous.

But… I thought about my man friend who’d spoken of the heartbreak and betrayal.  It coalesced in my mind in an almost intangible way that I had an opportunity to display compassion and not leave the other party feeling humiliated.  I had no requirement or responsibility to show compassion but I was impressed that it was the right thing.  Sure we could have more, but we had enough to set up a new home.  I conceded the point deliberately.  We all agreed.  We metaphorically shook hands through our representatives.  Face was saved by the other party.  Nobody was humiliated.  Nobody was homeless.  Nobody had reasonable claim on feeling hard done by.

Since that decision, which was a deliberate decision and based upon the two conversations with friends, held at different times and under differing circumstances, something great has happened.

We have been able to raise the mortgage on my salary alone.  I received the news today.

More than that, for the first time in years, I feel safe.  Really, I haven’t felt safe in years.  I was scared in my own home most of my days, when we left I was scared of retribution or people (a particular person) lurking and causing harm.

Something settled.  It is an unusual and peculiar sensation.  A crushing weight lifted off my clavicle, I can breathe, I am not scared to take something to the bin outside.

It is a great feeling.

The natural woman in me wanted to push, to punish Mr P, to see how he felt being made homeless.  It was what he deserved.  He deserved no mercy.

I am glad it listened to that  more reasonable instinct, that still and small voice.  So much good is coming from it.

Listen to your instincts.  Follow your gut.  Actively make decisions.  It’s a great life if we continue choosing our path rather than bobbing along.

Author: Pollyanna Whyte

Single LDS Mormon Mum/Mom living in England. This is our blog on emotional health, fun, parenting, life, divorce, starting over, friends, family, church things, and budgeting. Stop by, tell us what you think, feel free to share (but credit the source please).

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