Separated in Sicily

 

Separation in Sicily - a thorny affair

*Everything you are about to read is completely a figment of my imagination and is not based on fact or any actual person.

That’s just a caveat to protect me from the bloodthirsty lawyer XMarito hired to get even oops separated. He would take me to the cleaners and not even wild horses would hold him back if he stumbled upon this.

Do not fear, I will not be hanging my dirty washing out to dry, but I thought my experience could be helpful to those of you contemplating divorce in Italy, and I know you are out there because quite a few foreigners fall for the Italian charm and statistically quite a few international marriages break up as the cultural difference on top of the human differences prove to be just too much to bear. I also happen to have a law degree which has helped enormously, especially when the first lawyer I tentatively approached and reluctantly told my story to sold me down the swanny after her first meeting with XMarito’s lawyer and all for the price of an espresso. So here’s a little space where we can er hold a space for each other. And this is not only for women as I know foreign men who are struggling through divorce here too, but it will be most useful or meaningful to those of you who have children. Because, as in same nationality marriages, you can pretty much just walk away if you don’t have children. I am also writing this as catharsis for me, just like in the early days when I ran the restaurant and was Norma-No-Mates as I unwittingly broke all the unspoken cultural codes and I started writing Sicilian Diary, except now I am Norma-No-Marito-No-Family. Which brings me to point numero uno.

Numero Uno

The first thing you need to know is that XMarito’s family will turn against you. Overnight. Even when they live on the same street as you. Just four doors down. This makes it quite difficult to actually make it into town as you have to walk past their front door and inevitably one of the XFamiglia will be lurking at the door in the hope of putting a hundred Evil Eyes on you for shaming the family. This means you have no one to leave the kids with when you have to do a big supermarket shop, and nowhere to drop off one of the kids when the other kid is needing attention/clothes shop/exercise (when you have a ten year old boy and a six year old daughter, certain activities are best done separately). This makes Lockdown under strict anti-Covid laws quite a tricky situation to navigate – in my case, XMarito walked out the door just before Lockdown started leaving me high and dry, as it were. It also means no matter how awful you feel in the morning if you have cold, flu, headache or period pain, you are going to have to drag your aching bones out of bed and take your kids to school because no one else is going to do it. This basically means that you are going to feel, despite all the friends you have gathered, Very Much ALONE.

ADVICE: tell your closest (local) friends what has happened so that they can help you out – by listening, minding your kids, offering moral support after a particularly nasty exchange. There will be times when you don’t want to get out of bed, when you don’t want to speak to anyone, when you wish you were back in your own country with your family sitting in the kitchen with tea and apple tart just like the good old days before you fell for Mediterranean Charm. Call your friends, accept help, keep in touch with them, let them know what is going on. They might be able to recommend useful people (lawyers, mediators), and it will be good to sound out what has happened with them, to get another perspective. It will inevitably surprise you to know what they really think. You will also need a babysitter for getting kids to and from school if you are working, for your lawyer appointments etc. Payment of babysitter comes under Spese Straordinarie so get yourself a little booklet of Ricevute Generiche from your local Chinese store and make sure you keep track of all your payments so that at the end of your month you can send a photo of the receipt to XMarito, who will undoubtedly contest it. To make it valid, you have to get a little marco da bollo worth €2 from the tabbachino and stick it on. (If he hasn’t been paying the mantenimento per i bambini, your lawyer will do an appeal (called a precetto, after a period of 3 months has passed) based on this after you’ve sorted the separation). Yes, I know, more hassle. And then some. You just have to deal with it. Without emotion.

The second thing you need to know 

is that no matter how dignified and private and keen you are to keep things amicable, XPartner will be playing the victim. Italians are prone to exaggerate and to act. Most of them (I generalise) are born for the stage. In Sicily, they were born for the Greek Amphitheatre, and the speciality is, you’ve guessed it, tragedy. This is now an opportunity for them to get some attention, have people feel sorry for them (how anathema is that?!) and generally get mamma back where they’ve always wanted her, at their beck and call (I am talking about men here, in particular the mammone species, native to Italy (sorry to resort to cliché but this one is generally true). In my case my M-in-law never stopped ironing her son’s clothes even though he is now 48 (one of the black marks against me. I don’t iron, or at least only if it is unavoidable). My kids tell me that nonna goes round to her son’s place once a week to clean (proving my point).

ADVICE: tell your story strategically. I thought it was only respectful for all parties not to talk about my disintegrating marriage. Friends had sussed out the situation though and it came as no surprise. But when mutual acquaintances started coming up to me in the street and saying how sorry they were, I started wondering just what XPartner was up to. Keep your version short and sweet so you can come through with a clear conscience no matter what XPartner is saying about you. The truth will always win.

The third thing you need to know 

is that you are going to need to get money from somewhere because, even though XMarito should pay child maintenance from the moment he leaves, he will not usually do so. Despite the fact that He Works and you have ended up sacrificing your career for his and after fifteen years of marriage you find yourself impecunious and pensionless.

Advice: Find a lawyer who uses the Legal Aid system. It is called patrocinio gratuito and your lawyer will apply for it at the local courts. You will feel immense relief, believe me.

The fourth thing you need to know 

is that under Italian law it is standard practice that the children stay with their mother as principal caregiver and see their father two afternoons a week and alternate weekends. They say that the house belongs to the children, and the children need to grow up with their mother. In practice this means that from now on you live in a house that will never be yours (unless you were a smart cooky and your home was a joint purchase. I was not a smart cooky, needless to say). Although it is comforting to know you won’t have to sing for you supper on the street (I have given this serious thought), it does kind of stop you in your tracks and make you take stock. Had I stayed in the UK and kept my job I’d now be on a very good salary and undoubtedly be a houseowner. Homeownership was perhaps not high on your agenda if you have that romantic tendency to fall for Mediterranean Charm (in my head I probably fell prey to daydreams of a sunny little cottage in an olive grove) but when your lawyer asks you to give her the lowdown on where you could have been career-wise (Sicily is not for the career-driven, at least not legit careers, we all know what I’m talking about), it can be quite shocking to observe All That Fall (please excuse my recourse to Beckett, it helps me get through). This also means that overnight you become Full-Time Single Mother of Two and you need to work full time until XMarito coughs up the child maintenance. Yes, prepare to be exhausted, wrecked, banjaxed as we say in the homeland, so whacked you turn your phone off after work because you are just too tired to talk. And still have to get the kids to bed.

It also means that Nonna (XMother-in-Law) cooks for her grandchildren and son on those two afternoons a week and on alternate weekends to make things as easy as possible for her son as He Works. Yes, you can vomit.

Advice. Get in some frozen pizzas (first time I’ve ever done this) and longlife milk as inevitably your trips to the supermarket will double. Get the vitamins. Magnesium for stress, B vitamins against fatigue, Bach Flower remedies for your overflowing emotions, whatever works. And sleep whenever you can. Siestas help you survive – 20 minute power naps are my favourite. As inevitably your night sleep will be riddled with weird dreams, and long wakeful spells of tossing and turning as you go over and over everything in your head.

A word on SmallTown Talk.

My dad said, you’ll both lose friends. And to be fair, all my good friends here, both female and male, have been amazing. They listen, they help when they can, they are always available, they call me when I haven’t been in touch (out of pure exhaustion, abject misery, too much going on). But the social friends or acquaintances or mutual friends are in another category. Again, the mutual female friends have been great, mostly. They have smiled and continued on in the usual way, avoiding the subject and encouraging me in subtle ways. Who knows if they’re sincere or not, they probably do the same with XMarito but that’s fair enough. Surprisingly, it’s the mutual male acquaintances who let you down. Some cross the street. Some offer the briefest of nods where once there was a huge smile and your name. There is a general cooling of the atmosphere. On social media most of them don’t dare put any likes on your posts. Suddenly you realise what that Italian word “figura” is all about. Keeping up appearances is essential in a small town and it won’t do for any of the male population to be seen being too friendly with the Separated Foreign Wife of one of its eminent (benefit of the doubt) citizens. This is where hypocrisy raises its ugly little head in ways I will refrain from explaining.

Advice: Develop a thick skin. This is the hardest one of all. I am the eternal smiler, always putting a brave face. But I’ve come home many times and crumbled when someone I thought I knew has crossed the street or ignored me. Just make sure you have a great pair of sunnies.

Last but not least: 

be prepared to be devastated at how low they will stoop. We had reached an agreement along the lines of standard praxis here whereby the house belongs to the kids, the kids stay with mum and see their dad two afternoons and alternate weekends, and he contributes to their maintenance. We had gone back and forth for months and finally it seemed we found an agreement that satisfied both parties. Then it looked like I was going to get employment in state schools as a supply teacher and suddenly everything switched. XMarito ate his words. His lawyer took it all back, said now that I had a state contract for 11 months and a salary equal to XMarito, XMarito would be needing his house back and would not be providing any maintenance money ( no change there then, as he had neglected to do so since he moved out). And to top it all off, It appeared that recently there had been serious events that showed I was an unfit mother. In short, XMarito wanted to take the house and my kids. Dirtier than dirty.

ADVICE: by this stage, if you are a woman, you better have made sure you got the strongest feminist lawyer in town, because, you’ve figured, you’re dealing with your chauvinist angry full of hate XMarito, and his misogynist lowlife lawyer. And you believed in justice. If you are reading this, there’s a good chance you’re an naïve as me, and a really good person, as my lawyer keeps telling me (as if she feels sorry for me)… so now it is time to get TOUGH and don your Warrior Robes. After you have finished crying your heart out at this most treacherous betrayal (especially since you spend your time running between your kids’ school, your work and the supermarket to make sure you all keep eating healthy stuff and have enough mula to get by), wipe your nose, and think practically. No more time for emotion, you need to be rational and prepare your case. Because you are now going to court, there’s no two ways about it. And you will make damn sure you will be main caregiver as you know that when they have their twice weekly afternoons with XPartner, it is your M-in-law who is looking after them and making lunch while XPartner gets nicely on with work and gym workout, spends an hour with the kids in some bar having an aperitivo (to show everyone what a good father he is..?) and then brings them back to you with some plastic toys and promises of holidays and videogames and whatever he thinks will buy them. But in court you will win, because the Truth Will Out.

By this time your kids will have noticed what’s going on. You’ve done your best to cry in secret and keep things jolly, but your older kids will know their dad is not playing fair, and your younger ones will know Something Awful is happening to mummy. So you tell them a watered down version of the truth, you keep them informed, you ask them to tell you what happens when they are with him, and you promise them you will always tell the truth. You need to reassure them because their little world has already fallen apart (they just want mummy and daddy to be together) and now they think they are going to lose you too. So you keep smiling. Because you know if it comes to it, those little mites will tell the judge they want to stay with YOU. (and the karma of having dragged his kids to court will come back to haunt Bad Daddy).

A word on the Lawyer

So your lawyer suddenly becomes the most important person in the world to you (after your kids). Choose wisely. It may be difficult for you to actually find one, as it was for me. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about my breakup, it was just too hard. I ended up going to a friend’s cousin for legal advice out of convenience but she was weak. After the first conversation with XPartner’s lawyer, she turned on me. When your whole world is already falling apart, this is precisely what you don’t need. She dumped on me one evening I had taken my kids for a walk and pizza at sundown with another friend and her kid. I told the lawyer it wasn’t a good time but she blathered on, telling me my attempt to work out a way to share the accommodation wasn’t pleasing to the Other Party and I’d have to rethink it. What she should have been saying was under absolutely no circumstances should I be thinking of sharing the property, a common and sneaky ruse deployed by many XHusbands who don’t want to leave the family home. I struggled with this one as the house legally belongs to XMarito and I didn’t want to have to put him out of his house. Until the second lawyer told me how the law sees it in Italy: the house belongs to the kids, so once you and your partner decide to separate, the mother will be designated principal care giver and will be allocated the house. This is one situation where latent Latin chauvinism actually works in your favour. In Italy the law protects the weaker party, usually the mother, who has usually given up everything to look after the kids and therefore put her career on hold (Maternity leave is a mere 4 months here and few professions sponsor career breaks so having children often takes most financial toll on the mother). And yes, I gave up two permanent teaching posts in England for love of my husband (and look where it got me). Cue: little monkey icon with hands over eyes.

Advice: Inform yourself before you seek legal advice. I found this website to be very clear and answered all questions. And this YouTube tutorial cleared any remaining doubts (Avv. Fulvia Fois is very clear and has tutorials on all the different aspects of separation, consensuale, giudiziale etc). It felt much better second time round when I had to tell my story to the lawyer. And make no mistake, it is not pleasant having to tell your life story to a stranger, no matter how professional and sympathetic they are. Also, a word of warning: there will come a point, especially if the separation gets nasty, as in my case where XPartner dragged the kids into it, where you will feel like a pawn between the two lawyers. Especially if you are in a small town. Provincial lawyers will undoubtedly have come up against each other before in court, and one of them will have a track record of winning (hopefully yours). You have two intelligent people trying to out-do each other, in substance, two egos battling for superiority. It’s up to you whether you want to keep the ego in check. I found the histrionics overwhelming at times, and I’m used to the melodrama here. But it’s not so welcome when it’s your life and your future and your kids on the line. You want to be reassured; you want clear logical explanations. This is not the Sicilian forte, and even my highly intelligent and expert lawyer gave vent to rage when things didn’t go to plan. So you need to find a balance between letting them have their way (always antagonistic and on the attack) and keeping your conscience happy. I didn’t want to have to take it to court as I felt convinced we could reach a settlement outside of court, but my lawyer got exasperated with their constant time-wasting and said I was being too nice and too naïve. We found out unfortunately that this was true. I thought I knew my XPartner, but turns out you don’t really know them until they are divorcing you. And you find out just how tight they are about money. And they drag your kids into it in order to drag your name through the mud. Then it’s time to totally trust your lawyer and launch your attack. As you annul your 15 year marriage in your mind body and soul.