I find myself in a precarious situation, sharing a home with my estranged husband as we navigate the complex divorce process.

The journey of divorce is often more challenging than anyone prepares you for. Had I anticipated the sluggish pace, I would have initiated this process back in 2018, hoping to finalize it by 2025. Everything must occur in a specific order. I cannot vacate our shared home until my name is removed from the mortgage, which can only happen after the court processes the necessary documents. Those documents are pending because my husband needs to be served with my divorce petition.

I envision that file sitting in a brown envelope on a desk somewhere, waiting to be opened. In reality, it was submitted electronically, which feels far less dramatic.

Financially, this divorce is a significant burden for me. Joseph's numerous emotional outbursts during our time confined together due to the pandemic left me with PTSD. All I desire is to secure a minimal cash settlement and escape this situation.

Earlier today, a well-meaning friend suggested I wait for the housing market to improve. I thought to myself, “No kidding.” I explained that my urgency to move isn't about upgrading my living situation; I'm essentially homeless and losing money by staying here.

My friend inquired about Joseph's inheritance, which is the sole reason he can afford to stay in our home since it isn’t considered a shared asset. I understood the implication: why not list the house for sale to increase my payout since he’s buying me out?

My real estate agent evaluated our home and provided an estimate for its listing price, along with potential closing costs. It’s likely the house would sell within two days for about $100,000 above the asking price.

However, I can't see Joseph willingly putting the house on the market to reveal its true value. This scenario would necessitate hiring a lawyer, which would be costly for both of us. The expenses from these legal fees would likely offset any additional profit I could make from selling the house.

To make matters worse, we would still be living together throughout this process, which heightens my anxiety.

Whenever I attempt to advocate for myself, Joseph responds with anger or threats of legal action. He declares, “this is war” and threatens to hire the best lawyer in the county. I have never mentioned hiring a lawyer myself.

To maintain a semblance of peace, I assured him I wouldn’t seek legal representation, despite his ongoing threats. I even took on multiple side jobs for eight months to afford mediation. During our financial discussions, I indicated that I wouldn’t continue those side jobs once I have my own place. Joseph objected, feeling that I should include that income in our financial calculations, despite my explanation that it was solely to fund the divorce process.

“You made quite a bit on Etsy last year,” he scoffed. I clarified that my earnings peaked during the holiday season and that last month I earned only $120.

When I tried to address the fairness of paying half the mortgage while I’m still on the loan, I mustered the courage to ask him for a calm discussion about it.

I reminded him that I remained cooperative even when he reneged on our original agreement to split his inheritance if he obtained a postnuptial agreement entitling him to half of mine. I had not put the house on the market to inflate its value, nor had I pursued his inheritance, even though it was intertwined with our marital assets.

With trembling hands, I asked him to consider my position, emphasizing that he wouldn’t face homelessness. He already has the house, while I'm struggling to secure a smaller place with a mortgage that exceeds his.

Joseph’s immediate response was to suggest he might need a lawyer due to my “threats.”

Highlighting my cooperative demeanor does not equate to issuing threats. I hurriedly reassured him that I would never seek legal counsel, regardless of the circumstances.

Ultimately, we reached an agreement where I would pay 40% of the mortgage instead of 50%. I didn’t press further since his quick response to lawyer up intimidated me, and I wanted to avoid escalating tensions while still living together.

I tread carefully when discussing refinancing, as I depend on him to initiate the process, and his motivation is lacking until official paperwork is filed—something that is moving at a snail's pace.

Throughout our marriage, I handled all administrative tasks, yet the one thing I’m keen to finalize—the refinancing—is something I am unable to do.

With no control over my situation, I created a spreadsheet cataloging everything we own valued over $100. Given that Joseph isn’t moving out, I might overlook the costs of everyday items.

The more I contemplated this, the angrier I became, prompting me to feverishly add items to the list.

I confess that I have become somewhat irrational. The following thoughts may resemble the ranting of a deranged person.

Joseph intends to retain all equity built in our home, which stems from his inheritance. However, this neglects the considerable funds I invested in renovations when we moved in. The home’s current market value doesn’t account for upgrades like new flooring, renovated garage finishes, or additional fixtures we purchased post-move.

I refuse to move into a new home that needs repairs when I contributed to the renovations in our current residence. His inheritance does not cover all the improvements made, and the market value reflects only the house's original state, not the enhancements we’ve made.

Am I being petty? Perhaps. However, even basic improvements like bathroom fixtures cost money, and I managed all renovations while juggling my job and caring for our children. Joseph only arrived home to witness the aftermath.

I don’t expect reimbursement for my labor—after all, that comprises a significant portion of renovation costs. I simply want an equitable division of the items I purchased after we moved in. I’m excluding major renovations, but I will include the cost of specific items like the high-end showerhead and kitchen range hood.

Now, I have my spreadsheet completed, but I need Joseph to agree to it.

Today, I grappled with anxiety at the thought of asking him to review the asset list. The fear isn’t about sitting down together; it’s about requesting that time to go over the list. I’ve crumbled under pressure multiple times, overwhelmed by anxiety, due to Joseph's pushback when I try to assert myself.

I feel scared.

I fear that he won’t recognize the items I purchased as new contributions rather than part of the home’s value. I worry he will dispute each item on the list and that I’ll succumb to his demands.

Conversely, there’s a part of me that feels liberated because I have nothing left to lose; that part might say, “Fine, Joseph. I tried to be fair. Let’s involve lawyers.”

As afternoon turns to evening, I know I must send the text asking Joseph to set aside time to discuss splitting our assets. My heart races, and my hands tremble with anxiety. I choose to text him since we rarely intersect during the day, and raising the issue in front of the kids would only invite a barrage of questions.

“Can you sit down with me this week to go over splitting some of the bigger stuff? I made an Excel spreadsheet with values attached. I think it’s best we do this now so that we can address any disagreements with a mediator before moving forward.”

I sent that text two hours ago and now await his response, which will likely come as a noncommittal acknowledgment without a specific date or time. I anticipate spending the week asking him to sit down, only to receive excuses like, “Can we do it later? I’m not in the mood right now,” or “Let’s schedule it for another day; I’m too tired.”

The purpose of this narrative is not to dwell on the financial figures tied to my divorce.

Instead, I aim to emphasize that regardless of my rationality, the outcome is still Joseph threatening legal action. I’m fortunate if it ends there; in his worst moments, he resorts to yelling and cursing.

I am certain that a year spent in isolation with someone who threatens me legally and resorts to verbal abuse will leave lasting scars, requiring years of therapy to heal.

And let me be clear: I am not without fault. I have had my share of irrational moments. Perhaps I deserve some leniency for maintaining my composure without resorting to yelling or name-calling. In the grand scheme of things, neither of us is at our best.

First and foremost: I need to escape this house and end this marriage.