AVAILABLE SATURDAY AUGUST 2ND!
Megan’s book, Who Am I? How My Daughter Taught Me to
Let Go and Live Again, is about her journey into post-partum
depression, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, stays in the psych ward, divorce,
emotional abuse, domestic violence, law school, how she managed to graduate
from law school and a beautiful little girl who emerged from all of this chaos.
Megan Cyrulewski has been writing short stories ever since she was ten-years-old. After attending Grand Valley State University, Megan eventually settled into a career in the non-profit sector for eight years. She decided to change careers and went back to school to get her law degree from Thomas M. Cooley Law School. While in school, she documented her divorce, child custody battle and postpartum depression struggles in her memoir. Megan lives in Michigan with her 3-year-old daughter who loves to dance, run, read, and snuggle time with Mommy. Megan also enjoys her volunteer work with various organizations in and around metro-Detroit.
Here's an exciting excerpt from Megan's exciting new book, Who Am I? How My Daughter Taught Me to Let Go and Live Again:
On January 18, 2012, we all
convened in the courthouse for the Motion for Parenting Time hearing. My dad
and I arrived with my attorney, but Tyler loved an audience so he brought his
dad, step-mom, and his new on-again off-again girlfriend, Heather. Tyler walked in with his posse in tow,
cocky as hell. It took all of two minutes for the judge to knock him off his
feet.
The Judge addressed our
respective attorneys. “Why are we here?”
“Your honor,” Tyler’s
attorney began, “my client has clearly been denied his parenti—”
The Judge didn’t even let him
finish. “How?” She turned to my attorney. “Don?”
“Your honor, as you can see
in the divorce decree, there was supposed to be a review when the minor child
turned twelve-months-old. The Defendant has ignored that review.”
“I—if I may, your honor,”
Tyler’s attorney sputtered.
“I see the review in the
decree. It’s here in black and white,” she told Tyler’s attorney. “What is the
problem? Why didn’t you understand the review? Your client signed the divorce decree.”
Tyler’s attorney tried again.
“But your honor—”
The judge cut him off. “There
is to be a review conducted by the Friend of the Court referee assigned to the
parties. Until then, the Defendant will continue his parenting time schedule as
agreed upon in the divorce decree. Dismissed.”
And that was it. After eight
police reports and numerous harassing text messages, phone calls, and e-mails,
we won. As Don and Tyler’s attorney went to speak with the clerk to file the
necessary paperwork, Don told us to wait for him outside the courtroom.
As we exited the courtroom,
the hallway was so packed with people that my dad and I were only able to find
enough space to lean against the wall. We were talking about the court
proceedings when we looked up at saw Tyler and his new girlfriend standing
right across from us.
“Why do you lie about
everything?” Tyler screamed.
Heather walked up to me and
stood about an inch from my face. “As a mother myself, you should be happy that
Tyler is the father of your child.”
My jaw dropped. “I’m sorry
but I don’t know you.”
She smirked. “Well you’re
going to get to know me, bitch.”
Tyler made a big show of
pulling her from me like I was going to punch her or something. By this time,
everyone in the hallway was watching us. We were pure entertainment.
Heather continued her rant.
“Two times in the psych ward, Megan? What a great mother you are.”
“Where is your mom, the real
mother of our child?” Tyler screamed. “She’s the one who takes care of
Madelyne.”
My dad and I tried to move
away from Tyler and Heather but they followed us.
“Awww…” Heather mocked. “Do
you have to take a Xanax because of your anxiety?”
“Go take your Xanax and
sleeping pills, you drug addict,” Tyler shouted.
Finally, Don emerged from the
courtroom and pulled us into a quiet corridor. He explained that I needed to
call our referee to set-up a meeting to discuss a visitation schedule. I told
Don about the verbal assault by Tyler and Heather. Don said he would call
Tyler’s attorney to let him know that Heather would not be allowed in my house.
Upon leaving the courthouse,
Heather screamed, “See you on Sunday, Megan.”
I turned toward her and said
calmly, “I don’t know you, but you are not
welcome in my home.”
That night, Tyler sent me
multiple texts attacking my mothering skills, my supposed drug addictions, how
he was going to fight for joint custody of Madelyne, how Heather would be
accompanying him for his visitations, and a barrage of other insults:
"Get a life already."
"Don’t you have something better to do than wasting your parents’ money?"
"Go take your pills and relax, oh yeah, then your parents would have to watch our daughter. Oh yeah, they already do."
"Go talk to your friends. Oh yeah, you don’t have any because of how crazy you are."
"Interesting to know you’ve been to the hospital a couple of times. You really need to get it together."
"Better go call your lawyer and make up some more stuff about me."
"Don’t be mad at your sorry life."
"I am sure living with Mom and Dad the rest of your life will be fun."
"When you get a job, then you can pay me child support. Fun."
"Don’t you have something better to do than wasting your parents’ money?"
"Go take your pills and relax, oh yeah, then your parents would have to watch our daughter. Oh yeah, they already do."
"Go talk to your friends. Oh yeah, you don’t have any because of how crazy you are."
"Interesting to know you’ve been to the hospital a couple of times. You really need to get it together."
"Better go call your lawyer and make up some more stuff about me."
"Don’t be mad at your sorry life."
"I am sure living with Mom and Dad the rest of your life will be fun."
"When you get a job, then you can pay me child support. Fun."
I finally had to turn my
phone off at midnight.
