COLLABORATIVE DIVORCE GROUP TAKES EMO MOM TO LUNCH

It was only a week ago that I started my Emo Mom site. Didn't know blog was short for weblog. Never heard of the blogosphere. Never thought anyone but a few friends and my mom would ever log on. And I bet my mom hasn't even done so.

Now today, I find myself at a lunch with some collaborative divorce professionals who had contacted me because of a previous post detailing my negative experience with collaborative divorce.

How would I know that somehow my humble little blog post would end up careening through the blogosphere, landing along the way on some servers for those who apparently put in Google Alerts for such things.

I was contacted by a nice attorney (I know, it's sort of a non sequitor) but he seemed legit, had a website, appeared lawyerly in his web photo. He wanted to assemble a group of professionals who work in the field of collaborative divorce and meet me for lunch. I agreed, then quickly panicked.

I emailed my fellow bloggers from The Writers' Net. What if they were really serial killers? Body part snatchers? I had my blogger BFF Karen call me at a certain time. I mail her a list of code messages. If I said I was going to Borders, it meant call 911; if I mention Rite Aid, the group appeared safe; if I said, "How high is his fever," it meant I was bored stiff and could run out to retrieve my "sick child." Obsessively, I thought of several more.

I sent the list to Karen. She's scrambling, trying to figure out what it all means? What's Emo Mom up to now? She sagely advises me to wear running shoes--preferably with holes so the some of the cement could run out if I end up tossed into the Long Island Sound. Frets that I'll end up in a foundation somewhere. Or taken off and brainwashed to rob banks (some of these are my worries.)

But curiosity trumps fear so off I go. Heading to restaurant, I can't remember my codes. Is Rite Aid good or bad? Did I say Rosebud in there somewhere?

I arrive and they all appear normal. I was in my glory having a captive audience. I perform, they laughed, they probed, they questioned, they paid for my lunch. (Did I mention I also brought along copies of a disclaimer for them to sign just in case I say anything lawsuit provoking--after going through a divorce, it's difficult to trust anyone with an ESQ following his or her name.) Trust me on this (sorry Google Alert Lawyer readers)!!

The most fascinating aspect is I'm told hordes of lawyers, mental health guys, and such read my hastily-assembled post. The psychs discredit my opinions because my blog name is Emo Mom. She must cut herself. She must have deep seeded anger issues. CHILL OUT paranoid psychiatric people (they're a very suspicious lot) it's a JOKE. Emo simply is a word my son has used and to me it is just a shortened version of emotional. Yes, psychiatric people, I am emotional--just went through a collaborative divorce, no? You should be nicer to us emo folks--otherwise what would you do?

For the record, those of you who Google Alerted this topic, while the nice folks at lunch did present some scenarios where collaborative divorce might work, I do have some advice for you.

Use a time limit (I know it may lessen the limitless cash influx) but if you can't get your clients to reach agreement within a three-month period, it probably ain't happening. I mean, I have no law or psych degree but it seems like common sense.

Coaches--when one party tells you repeatedly they don't trust the other party, please steer them away.

Financial professionals...well...just stick to the issues at hand. (The bill from the financial person wasn't too far from those from the attorneys.) I got reports after reports, including one that showed where I'd be at age 80 if I saved X dollars per year. I didn't even know where I was going to be the next day--much less care at that point where I'd be at 80 (probably in a horrible nursing home wishing I had saved more money.)

After all the anguish and much, much money, I ended up having to hire a litigator at the eleventh hour because I was mere weeks from a trial date, had been denied a continuance, and my lawyer didn't go to court. Of course, I was totally unglued at this point and my new attorney ended up telling me I was the most annoying client he'd had. Ok, I will agree I wasn't in the best of shape, but good Lord!

All the aforementioned professionals way eclipsed any acrimonious feelings I had toward my husband. (Transference, right psychiatric folks?) So it helped in one way: diluting some of the negative feelings toward my husband, a lawyer as well.

I put Collaborative Divorce in the title so it would show up again for you Google Alerters.