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Dispatches from Divorce: Dropping Off Papers at His Workplace
I got divorced eight? or seven? or nine? — a number of years ago. I have processed and therapized and owned my shit since then. And now sometimes I write about it. This is a story about friends who love you through it. Some identifying information has been changed.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. My friend Cori came to Chicago to teach an oncology massage workshop, and she arranged for my friend Alexa and I to be her teaching assistants. Eventually, after helping her a few times, I would get to teach the workshop on my own and become a continuing education provider. This all fed into my career goals — to be a teacher and to teach nationally. Oncology Massage was one of my favorite things. I worked at a cancer treatment center a few days a week, and I was starting to get referrals from them into my new practice. Being Cori’s TA pushed me even further along that road.
In the midst of this weekend, Cameron and I were still finalizing our settlement agreements and getting everything together. Recently, upon cleaning out some of the closets in the condo, I found a spyglass that I knew had belonged to Cameron’s grandfather. It was tucked deep in the back of the coat closet, so I thought he must have overlooked it when he moved out several months ago. I also had some signed papers to get to him. I…