Apparently Lawyers Don’t Take Fairy Dust as Payment (I think they should)
Back in December, I received an email from my lawyer while my sister, Maria, was visiting me from Utah. Maria is my older sister, and she’s a very bossy, no-nonsense Virgo. She took my phone and read the email, then she texted our little sister.
“Her lawyer just quit.”
“What? Why?”
“Because she offered to pay him in fairy dust.”
“Sigh.”
“Sigh.”
Now, you may be wondering what the heck?
And before you throw me under a rainbow unicorn bus on the way to fairyland, let me explain.
Maria’s plane was delayed by hours, so we were binge-watching Stranger Things, sitting on my Lovesac couch, the one I can’t get off of without some major rolling and somersaulting–thank goodness for my years in the circus.
My lawyer had been threatening to quit my case for some time because I owed him money. Now, I had already paid him boatloads of money, but I still owed him and with frozen bank accounts, I was unable to pay him. What a great system! Anyway, he quit.
So rude!
But it turned out to be good.
I really liked my lawyer. He was eye candy, with a deep soothing voice and some excellent stories. He also was a really good person, highly ethical, and super smart. However, this whole process was so deeply emotional, and I often felt like molten lava inside, and not the good molten lava you find in the middle of a chocolate cake, but the fiery kind you find in an ugly gray mountain, so I would see his mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear him talking. I didn’t want to discuss anything with him– I just wanted him to make it all go away.
In his email to me, explaining his withdrawal, he actually cited the fact that I offered to pay him in fairy dust as a reason for his quitting, elaborating by saying I didn’t “respect the process”. What? Me? How strange that I wouldn’t respect the process of my family falling apart with betrayal that cut me like a hot knife in a chocolate cake. (Why oh why do I always have desserts on my mind?)
How crazy of me that I didn’t respect the process of my family imploding in such a vicious and painful way, a way that hurt my children more than they had already been hurt! How bizarre that I wouldn’t be respectful that now my children were in a system that didn’t know them, or our family, and some stranger in a black robe was making important life decisions with the capacity to hurt them more. He was right. I didn’t respect the process. I hated the process.
And yes, it was true. When he kept badgering me for money, I told him I would be happy to pay him if he only took fairy dust, and I pulled out the bottle of glitter I always keep in my purse.
I thought he got my sense of humor, (my sisters and dear friends find me hilarious) but I guess lawyers are less amused by my hilarious antics.
After he quit, I didn’t feel bad — I felt liberated and free of the crushing waste of money — anything spent on lawyers is throwing away money that could be spent on the kid’s futures.
And in the end, my ex and I had a rational moment and went around all the lawyers to come to our own agreement and just like that, it was over.
Now don’t get me wrong. I was and am terrified of my future and how I will support my kids.
But a friend of mine posted this on her social media:
“I hope when the time comes to bet on yourself, you double down.”
And a light bulb clicked on for me in my dark swamp of a brain.
“Marci, you have always had an extraordinary life. ALWAYS. You still do and you always will land on our feet. What are you afraid of?”
Well, for starters, I’m 50 and been a stay at home mom. My previous career was belly dancer and circus acrobat, two things I can’t do anymore unless people are impressed with my skills rolling off my couch. That I can still do.
“But you can write. You can think. You can create. TRUST YOURSELF! BET ON YOURSELF!
DOUBLE DOWN!
So just like that, like the flip of a switch, or the flip of a circus acrobat, I believed in myself again. It wasn’t gradual. Or maybe it was and I just didn’t notice. It was one minute from “I’m terrified my life is over” to “We’ll be fine”.
How about that?
So in the end, I’m glad my lawyer quit. If he hadn’t, if he had been able to take fairy dust over money, the divorce process would continue to crush my soul and take it’s toll on me and the kids.
And now… we’re free.
And we can rebuild.
And do you know what helps rebuild broken hearts? Fairy dust. I’m pouring some over my head right now.
And one more thing — when I send my lawyer his final check, I will be including some pink glitter in the envelope.
(Sidenote: Fairy dust helps you get through quarantine with sparkle!! Throw some around your house, then roll in it. Or throw it in the air and run under it. Sisters help too.)
