This past month for me has been one of personal leaps and bounds, yet, at the same time, one of intense disappointment and disillusionment with a system that was set up to protect people just like me. A few months ago, when I got my divorce papers in the mail with the intention of filing on my own, I figured that, since I am an intelligent and well-read person, I could file on my own with little difficulty. I was prompted by a friend of mine to look for help from a women's shelter, to see if I could get some financial assistance or, better yet, find a lawyer to help me pro bono. I figured if I explained what I have endured and showed them our financial statements and they could see how my marriage has only exacerbated my emotional state I would be the perfect candidate for free or reduced legal counsel. When I called the legal services agency in my area, I got a rude awakening.
Legal aid is only available for victims of domestic violence.
Threats made against me, that I would be killed, surely would count, I thought. The fact that I have been seeing a psychiatrist for years not to help me deal with the effects of this emotional abuse, and that she would testify for me if necessary, would prove that I have suffered a terrible sort of insidious abuse that slowly destroys someone from the inside out. Never mind that the sheriff never came because the phone was ripped from the wall and the car keys were hidden from me and, being 10 miles away from the closest town, I am essentially stranded out here. The next step after my futile and disappointing meeting with legal services was to call the Family Violence program in my county. I found out just how uncomfortable talking about this to strangers is.