I joined a gym, the one in the old Wellington mall. I set play dates with the neighborhood moms. I went to a Mary Kay party and was almost convinced I needed to become the next up and coming sales rep driving a pink car. Almost. I never saw Bruce, I was essentially a single mother. He would be off at work, or a strip club, or where ever. We did the obligatory block party thing with the neighbors. Yuppie life. Until one morning, just shy of a year later on a Saturday, I got a knock on the door. Bruce was “working”. It was our landlord. She was there to evict us. There has to be a mistake. I tried calling Bruce at work, only to learn he hadn’t been there in the last 3 days. There has to be a mistake. Bruce kept the check book in a drawer in the little foyer area. I run to it and check the ledger. No it’s all right here, rent check number 135 in the amount of 950.00. I show her. Never got it. I say how much do we owe? over 3 months. There has to be a mistake. I inspect the check book ledger, everything appears to be in order, FPL, Cable, water, rent it’s all here. Never got it she says again. I call my grandparents, they are closest and ask them to come over right away. We call the bank. This can’t be happening. Everything in the ledger is a lie. All of it. The checks have been made out to cash in actuality. He had paid just enough of everything to keep it on, the electric is past due, the water is past due, the cable…all of it. All of it is a lie. I don’t even know where to begin. I am hysterical. I am homeless again. My kids, they’re older now, they are going to understand that I am taking them from their home, their new friends. I am throwing up, violently throwing up. I can’t stop. My grandmother, my nana is trying to comfort me, this is the first time they offer me a place to stay, she knows I am blindsided. The landlord is kind enough to see that I am clearly unprepared for this as well and gives me a week to pack my things. She was prepared to have us removed and lock the house with the assistance of the police. I am grateful, humiliated, devastated, grieving the loss of my “normal” life for my children. There are no words, just me crying and throwing up. My grandparents take the kids for me, my mother is on her way, we are in touch with the neighbor who married Bruce and me, she is also the manager of the bank I am now in debt to. It takes me seven years to clean up the financial ruin that he left me with. There are more years with him after this and I will get there, but seven long years. He has never paid a dime in child support, has never contributed to the well being of his kids. He lives in Virginia with yet another wife and is apparently an author of a few books.He has never checked on his children, never looked them up, never looked back. Must be nice.
Published by christiepage "pando pandemonium"
Confessions of a mad mind~ Author of A Practical Guide to Forgiveness from an Impractical Survivor, Oh Go Fix Yourself and She was the Stuff of Stars, Christie Page was born in Falmouth, Massachusetts. She lived in the Nobska Point Lighthouse with her mother and father who were stationed there as a result of his service in the Coast Guard. Shortly after the family made their way to West Palm Beach, Florida where she grew up continuing her love affair with the ocean. She has two children Joshua 26 and Laura 24 and currently resides in South Florida. In 2015 Christie left her twenty year medical career to pursue her passion for writing full time and has been featured in the world’s largest mindful living publications including Chicken Soup for the Soul, elephant journal, Sivana East, Thirty on Tap and The Urban Howl. She was also a feature columnist for Controlled Chaos magazine. An active yogi, hoop dancing enthusiast and self-proclaimed whiskey chick, she is a third generation breast cancer survivor, recovering anorexic/bulimic and is on life six or seven of her nine lives. She has been homeless and sheltered, rich and poor, loved and hated and believes her experiences have lead her down a path of spiritual exploration and awakenings. Christie wishes to share her journey with others in an attempt to come to peace. She writes to clear space from the rolodex that is her muddled mind. Christie View all posts by christiepage "pando pandemonium"