Unmuted: Healing Out Loud

  There comes a point when the game stops working. When the lies don’t stick. When the pity party loses steam. When the same tired excuses crash headfirst into receipts, subpoenas, and someone like me — who’s done playing the fool. Let’s be clear: I didn’t blow this whole thing wide open because I wanted to. I did it because I had to. Because he couldn’t stop lying, and I couldn’t keep cleaning up the mess. Because if the truth was going to crawl out of the shadows, someone had to drag it — kicking and screaming if necessary — into the light. And that someone? Was me. I’ve done the work — in court, in healing, in silence, and in full view. I’ve spent hours, weeks, months connecting dots, reviewing lies, and lining up facts like dominos. All while being told I was “emotional,” “vindictive,” or just a “bitter soon-to-be ex.” And yet… here we are. With the record showing that I was right . With multiple trustees , federal officials, and even his own testimony proving...

There’s something that happens when you finally say, “Enough.” When you stop accepting the bare minimum. When you stop tiptoeing to keep the peace. When you finally stop waiting for the apology, the change, or the decency that never comes — and you file for divorce. For me, that moment triggered a full-blown war. Not because I was cruel. Not because I did anything wrong. But because I took my power back — and he couldn’t handle it. We had an agreement that he begged for.  We were supposed to split the bills. He was supposed to pay for the truck — the one he drove. And I co-signed. We were supposed to move through this like adults so we could both move on. But instead, the moment I refused to reconcile, he flipped the script. He stopped paying anything. He stopped cooperating. And instead of facing this like a man, he chose to weaponize the system. He filed for bankruptcy to avoid accountability. He tried to drag my name through the mud. He’s told people I’m the...