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My marriage is finally, legally over.
After:
12 years, 6 months, 27 days
4,594 days
110, 256 hours
6,615,360 minutes
396,921,600 seconds
That is how much of my life I spent legally married to my now ex-husband.
On December 9th, 2024, I received the call from my divorce attorney that my divorce was {finally} finalized and signed off by the judge that was presiding over the trial. As my attorney read over the judgement and began to address what the next steps were going to be, I let out the hardest and longest wailing cry I have ever experienced. Besides the moment I learned of the carbon monoxide accident that took my mother’s life, I have never made such a guttural sound. I couldn’t hold back. It was over. A divorce that had been years in the making was actually, finally over. I never thought that the divorce would go the way that it did, but to be honest I really had no idea what to expect. I didn’t get married expecting to become a divorced woman at the age of 41. I didn’t get married expecting anything that happened in the course of those 12.5 years.
My ex-husband and I separated many times throughout the course of our marriage. I moved out twice. He moved out twice. I filed for divorce twice. He was arrested for domestic violence against me once. We had, over the course of our relationship, five different couples’ therapists. I attended a treatment center for trauma I experienced in our marriage. I wanted to get pregnant and start a family. We never did. I had an unexpected hysterectomy. We both lost our mothers within six months of each other. In the time that I knew him, he lost multiple members of his family to old age and other reasons. I lost five members of my family, one to cancer and four to old age. We had jobs, we started careers, we lost jobs, he ran campaigns and successfully won three elections during the time that we were married. As a couple we went through a lot. A lot of love, a lot of stress, a lot of heartache and there are scars that are both visible and some less obvious that will always be there. Neither of us were perfect. I made significant efforts, but I could never achieve the level of perfection required. I can’t speak for him, but I know that I said things that I wish I hadn’t said, made choices I wish I hadn’t made, did things that I wish I didn’t do.
Why did I chose to trash my wedding dress the way that I did? I had a lot of feelings surrounding my wedding dress, the accessories from the day and the memories surrounding all of it. I didn’t want to destroy my dress, not because I had the feeling of wanting to keep it the way it was from that day, but because my mom was with me when I purchased this dress. If I ever choose to get married again, she won’t be there to see it. She won’t be there to help me try it on. She won’t be there to help me zip it up. I didn’t want to destroy my dress to the point that it was incinerated or needed to be thrown away for that specific reason, so instead, I turned my dress into a piece of art that I can keep.
As the divorce was drawing to a close, I wanted a way to symbolically end my emotional tie to my wedding and ultimately, my marriage. A close friend and confidant came up with an idea to adorn my dress with my trauma, and then wash it away as I leave my literal past behind me. I loved this idea because I had used a processing tool like this before when I was in treatment in 2020. When I was at The Refuge, A Healing Place; we had this project where we lied down on our backs on the floor and our bodies were outlined on a large piece of paper. What we did next, was write or draw out our trauma on different parts of our bodies with words, shapes, symbols etc. The point of this was to show where our physical and invisible scars were.
In preparation for this emotional and liberating project, I spoke with my therapist to talk through a list of words that I could write all over my dress. We spoke about traumas that I had endured, names I was called, ways I was abused and more. The point of this was to be therapeutic. To take the shame out of how I felt in the moment of being called those things. Take the power away from the abuse and to relieve the pain I have carried with me as a result of years of trauma. I used washable paint, chalk, and markers to write out my traumatic words and memories from my marriage all over my wedding dress, and trust me, this brought up even more feelings than I could have anticipated.
After I was done writing the nasty language, words, and hurt all over my perfect and pure white gown, I got into the bathtub and I washed away the words that couldn't define me anymore. The colors wouldn't completely disappear, just like the scars that were left of my marriage on my dress, my body and my soul. I let the colors run and color the dress in a new way; watched the water take the ugly words that were there and bleed into soft lines and blurred rainbows of colors. It left something truly beautiful. Some of the words barely washed out, some of the words became invisible to the eye, some of the colors were left in streaks, blobs or barely there. The point of this was to show that all of the negative things that happened to me, that were said to me, or engrained into my mind would never ever leave me completely, the scars would always be there but now they were faded. Less sharp. What was left was a beautiful mess, and I think that describes the effects of the trauma from my marriage perfectly. The colors dyed the dress into something new, just as the trauma from my marriage changed who I was and will forever be. I like to think that my new life symbolizes the beautiful mess that my dress turned into. Something different, something unique, something that can't be undone, but that ended up better, more beautiful and more treasured than it ever was before.
I know that I tried so damn hard to keep our marriage together, I tried so hard. I begged and pleaded with him to be honest with me and our marriage counselors about his infidelities. I would show him proof that I had surrounding his affairs, and he would consistently tell me that it wasn’t happening and that it was all in my head. I let an affair that he had for multiple years completely destroy me. I was actually forced to dine with his mistress at the same table on occasion. I did my best to swallow my pride. I would silently cry in bathrooms at events and restaurants. I would sit at home and plead with him through text messages to please come home. That affair was the hardest part of our marriage for me. It was harder than any other girlfriend he had. It was harder than walking in on him with other women at strip clubs. It was worse than the physical, verbal and sexual abuse that I endured.
The gaslighting and manipulation that caused me to question my memory, myself and my reality, completely destroyed me. I recall sitting in a counselors office as I shared with her the copies of text messages and call logs that I had. The photos and emails; every piece of information I had that confirmed what I worst feared. Followed immediately by him lying about what was happening. Him telling me and our therapist that I had no idea what I was talking about because none of this was real and telling her that he was "worried" about me. That he thought I needed an adjustment in my medication because he was concerned for my safety. The psychological abuse I endured in all those years destroyed me and has taken years and lots of therapy to undo and I still continue to work on this to this day.
The gaslighting and manipulation towards our friends and our family also tore me apart. I used to refer to it as him setting little “fires.” He would mention things about me (most of which were not factual) to cause our family and friends to doubt me and let them think that I was completely crazy, unstable and that I couldn’t be trusted. To undermine my mental health is a way to try and discredit me and, unfortunately, is something that I still deal with in the Peoria community still today. I know that I have lost a lot of people in my life due to this. I think that these little “fires” are still being set, which frankly breaks my heart and I hate that there are so many people no longer a part of my life that I always enjoyed when they were there.
For example, I used to have a group of women that I golfed with. I was not particularly close with them but I very much enjoyed their company and spent nearly every Thursday evening in the summers with them on the Weaver Ridge golf course. The year I filed for divorce, my ex celebrated holidays with this group of women he had never spent much time with before. Why? Why would he want to start spending time with a group of women that I golfed with? The following spring, at a board meeting for an organization for which I served, one of the women approached me during the meeting and asked me why I wouldn’t accept his apology. She said that she knew he felt bad and wanted to stay with me. I told her that it was no longer safe for me to be with him, and I had to choose my emotional well-being, safety and mental health over the marriage. I even gave her some other more detailed reasons why I left him, assuming this woman could understand the importance of another woman advocating for her own well-being. Instead, she said I would probably regret it because he was a “good man.” I made the choice to end that conversation. A couple of months later, when I was leaving a performance of the Peoria Symphony Orchestra with someone I was dating, I said hello to her and attempted to politely make an introduction. She looked at both of us and said again that she didn’t understand why I wouldn’t take my ex-husband back. I was shocked, shook and devastated. The following summer I was not added to the email list for that golf group, and I barely speak to any of those women anymore. One of the women would go on to attend a day of our divorce trial and provide him with (inaccurate) information about me that was attempted to be used against me. To say this has all been a tough learning experience is putting it lightly. This is something that I am quite sure has happened with numerous of our shared friends as the invitations to events and social gatherings that I always received before are no longer being extended to me.
The attempt at manipulation that still occurs towards me is awful. The twists that are made to stories and facts are frankly insane. When the series, “My Recovery Journey” began and came to a conclusion last year, I received a lot of calls from the local media regarding my story. Not because of who my ex was, but because I was sharing a story that was empowering to women in dangerous situations and people were interested in spreading awareness if I was willing to speak on how my healing journey has come about. I worked with a local news station on a special report about domestic violence that both the team at the station, myself and my team spent a lot of time on. We met several weeks in a row, discussing the nature of my story, planning how my story would be presented to the viewers of the station and even recording the emotional interview with a reporter and camera crew. Due to the sensitive nature of my story, it was important to me and my team that the story was handled delicately and accurately. The week that it was scheduled to air, I received information that it was going to be held and then eventually was told it would never be airing. After a lot of other conversations with a connection at the station, it was confirmed to me that my ex-husband and his “representatives” had the story killed and it would never be shown. I still cannot believe that actually happened. The story was about advocacy, using my experience to help others in similar situations. I want my story to help others which was why I worked so hard on the series of blogs, My Recovery Journey, and was speaking to the news station about it. To have his reach shut down the local news station was disappointing, unfair, and unethical. This is why victims don't speak up. This is why men in power get away with things they shouldn't.
I also received a lot of calls from the Peoria Journal Star and I told the journalist from the paper that once my divorce was final I would speak to him because I was concerned that if I gave any statements when he was writing his articles, before my divorce was finalized, it could negatively affect my divorce proceedings and could also pose a safety risk for me. I told him when it was finalized, I would be happy to provide a statement. I have a feeling now that because I chose to not provide a statement to him, it affected me negatively in the coverage of his stories on our trial. On multiple occasions there were very specific details that were reported incorrectly and there were very, very personal things about me unnecessarily written in the media. The cost of my expenses (which were inaccurate), how I spend the money I have, and my mental health journey, which was attempted to be used against me in the trial. I will say this clear for everyone who seems to be confused why this was a violation. I am not the one who was elected by the Peoria community. I am not the one that needed to answer to constituents or the taxpayers, yet my personal, financial, and medical information was published in the paper (with a fair amount of it incorrect). Things like the cost of my car payment and rent amount, as well as where I lived ended up published in the paper. These same details were not written about my now ex-husband, the person who is the elected official. There was some coverage regarding my testimony but very little compared to the amount of time that I sat on the stand versus the amount of time that my ex sat up there. I was mocked by the journalist; I was storied as someone who is unresponsible, possibly unreasonable, and the amount of inaccurate information published about me was astonishing. Yet the threats, misuse of funds, illegal acts and other things that came out in court regarding my ex were never mentioned in his articles. He chose to divulge personal information about a private citizen and not the same information about someone that was elected by the citizens of Peoria. Was I being paid back for not giving him a comment last spring when he contacted me about my blog? Is there no truth in journalism? I explained to him that I didn’t feel comfortable about how he was asking for comments, all the messages that he was leaving me on my voicemail, and I was concerned about my safety before the end of the divorce. In one article, he wrote about the amount of spousal support we were “requesting.” The amount, or even the request written about is pure fabrication. In the state of Illinois, the amount of spousal support received in any divorce situation is a set number based off of an algebraic equation and combined incomes of the two parties. One does not walk into divorce court and demand the amount of spousal support that you want. It is based off Illinois divorce legislation and he would have known that if he had done his research.
The judgment that came through was in opinion of my attorney, myself and other attorneys that I spoke with, nowhere near fair. Yes, that is my opinion and due to how the law works, the judge’s decision is what rules. Throughout the divorce process, my legal team sent over numerous settlement proposals that were all fair. I was even asking for less spousal support than Illinois law would have required and I was simply asking for 50% of our joint assets. Every time we sent anything over to my ex and his attorney they would not negotiate. Zero response. In the times that my ex-husband and I spoke either verbally or over text message throughout the process, he would continuously tell me that he would not settle, that the judge would have to decide and he would make sure that I got nothing. Did I think I would actually end up with absolutely nothing in the end? No, no I did not. He had for years threatened to leave me with nothing except my clothes and my car (just like his first wife before me.) He promised me that I would be left penniless and “homeless and living in the Salvation Army.” I never thought that any of that could actually happen, as Illinois is a state where there are no-fault divorces and spousal support is a math equation and debt/equity is simply divided as fair and equitable. Never, ever did I think that a judge would not provide me with 50% of the equity of the home that we shared and I helped to pay for. Never did I think that the judge would afford me with zero dollars in support when my husband supported me not working and also was a big reason why I walked away from my real estate career. A career that I started and grew for five years before he joined in with me. Never did I think that the judge wouldn’t force him to repay me money that I received from my mother’s estate after her death in May of 2020. Money that he said he “remodeled the house with”. This settlement we received after the reason why she died was because the pool heater at her new home malfunctioned and poisoned her. The heater that my ex was taught by the previous owners how to operate. The heater that he turned on that day and that later resulted in her untimely death. Let that sink in. He turned on the pool heater incorrectly, which led to a gas leak that resulted in her death. Then he and his insurance company financially settled with the estate for his role in her death. Then he used funds from her estate to "remodel the house", of which I get nothing.
Now fast forward to February 28th, 2025. My attorney had filed a motion to reconsider. We went back into the courtroom in front of the same judge and my attorney provided case law as to why his judgement was not lawful. My attorney stated facts and provided legal citations and information. The judge did not rule in my favor. My ex-husband’s attorney stood up and, in referencing my current job as an online influencer, brand affiliate and community advocate, said that I would be better off "getting a job at a gas station." Are you kidding me? Is this real life? I am working to establish myself as an online presence of strength, mental health advocacy, and sharing my story to inspire others. I am partnering with brands for spreading awareness and connecting my followers with products, brands, and causes that are important to me. I am working every day at that career, just as I worked every day on my real estate career. Insinuating my work is useless and fruitless is unprofessional and not applicable in the court setting. My career wasn't on trial. I was being punished because I wanted to get out of an unsafe marriage. I wanted to be able to protect myself. I didn’t want to be raped anymore. I didn’t want to be scared anytime I saw him order a Jack Daniels and Diet Coke. I didn’t want to be lied to anymore. I didn’t want to be made fun of anymore. I didn’t want to get hurt anymore. I didn’t want to have to hide and make excuses for bruises anymore.
As time goes on, I know that things will work out for the best, that good will prevail. I know that what has happened to me both through the trauma of my marriage and the struggles through the divorce proceedings, will shape me for who I will forever be and that’s okay. I know that I am not perfect and I had my part in the problems within our marriage but I won’t apologize for standing up for myself or for speaking of the abuse that I endured and chose to walk away from. He can say all he would like on the abuse never existing, but photographs, audio recordings and the night the police intervened do not lie. Being bullied to publicly take back what had happened the night he was arrested is probably my biggest regret throughout my entire marriage. I worry that this could happen to another woman and I feel badly about that.
I will forever keep my now, imperfect, wedding dress from my imperfect marriage. I won’t keep it in a box in a storage closet or even packed away in a basement. I will keep it hanging in a closet that I don’t use every day but regularly see. It will hang there as a reminder that I am resilient, I am strong, and I am perfectly imperfect and I am happy with who I am. Although I wish I had never gone through the trauma from my marriage: the psychological and emotional abuse, the hatred spewed towards me, the repeated sexual assault, the fear I held for my life; it very much proved the phrase, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” If none of these things had ever happened, I wouldn’t be the strong, healthy, brave, resilient person that I have become and for that I am grateful. No one gets married expecting or desiring to get divorced one day. Most people hope that their fairytale will never end, I was one of those people.
So, like my dress, I will forever be changed and I am absolutely okay with that. Although my scars will fade, they will forever be apart of me and that is something I am at peace with. I know that my mom is looking down on me and is incredibly proud of me for finally freeing myself of the trauma that was my world. She tried for so many years to help me get out of the toxic cycle of abuse that I was living with. She helped me retain my first attorney twice before I finally got the strength to end my marriage for good. She would pick me up when I was cowering and crying. She would, without question, drive up from Lincoln to my home in Peoria when I would send her a text that I was afraid, I wasn’t safe and things at home were out of control. I am so thankful for her support and that she instilled the strength in me that she did.
This divorce was the right decision for me, my safety, as well as my mental and emotional health. I did have times during the process when I would cry myself to sleep and realize that some of the “promises” he made to me were coming to fruition. He promised me that if I divorced him, I wouldn’t receive a thing. He promised me that he would destroy me publicly. He promised that if I divorced him, I would leave with less than I came into the marriage with. He was correct. He kept his promises. I am still completely flabbergasted at how it turned out, but regardless of that I know that I will be okay. Good prevails. Karma is real. Everything will eventually come out in the wash. I know that I left for the right reasons, and I know that standing up for myself was the right thing to do.
I wouldn’t have made it through this without my mom and the strength that she instilled in me. Thank you, mum. Thank you so much for picking me up when I was down and thank you so much for standing beside me when I needed the support. Thank you for teaching me that loving myself was important and thank you for looking down on me from above. I love you.
With Love,
Heather
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