Alabama Divorce Forms And Divorce Papers: Fill & Download for Free

My Brother, he was adopted at the age of 6 months. We weren't allowed to pick him up until he was 10 months. Where as my Mother, in all her profound wisdom Kept telling my brother from the time he could understand "Dada"" that he was indeed adopted but we loved him the most , out of all the other babies.She told him this until he was seven , then she bailed ship . Leaving my Dad And myself to explain why two mama's didn't want him.Oh , it took awhile, for him to form this bottomless black pit of hatred towards women. But he has finally arrived. I feel sorry for him in a way.After she got her hands back on him, He was her prince, could do no wrong. I used to take care of this kid, I'm ten years older than him. He was at one point a normal child. When you hear in your teenage years , how beautiful , how perfect you are, from your mother mind you . I think that tends to mess with your mind.He was not allowed to contact his birth mother under any circumstances.Truth be told we knew nothing about his parents, no medical information, How he came to be. Nothing . Until his teenage years he was just a typical boy.After my own dear sweet mother overcompensated for leaving him, he began to think he was the" IT" child . He could do nothing wrong. If You had the audacity , to tell him he was wrong about anything. Then came all the throwing things, name calling, Literally tearing down the joint.Spoiled brat syndrome is what I call it. Got everything he wanted, Cars ,loans Vacations ,clothes . You name it he got it.Of course me being older sis, I was called in when something went wrong. To calm the situation. Sometimes I could , Sometimes I couldn't. I got him to start going to church. Where he met a lovely girl, they dated for what seemed to be a very long time. Then engaged. until he didn't get his way and hit her.If he were telling this right now , he would twist everything. So he could come out on top. One thing led to another, they broke up.Then he starts seeing the person I enjoy calling the "she devil" she had a child. My good ol bro don't do so good with kids. Thanks be to God the child wasn't his.She however was a kindling spirit to my Mother, Out for everything she could get.She got a lot, no as much as mom , but a lot. He married her ,against my husbands and my advice. My mother was just glad to be rid of him. All the time they were dating and married , she had a little something on the side.After the wedding , I went back to my Dads house to freshen up , my estranged husband came in. On my way down the stairs and out the door, my husband said something to me about us getting back together, all I remember was saying I want the divorce papers signed.This Whosits breaks into the conversation and says , now check this out , This is my Dads house. The house I grew up in mind you. I'm not going to be having any arguing IN" MY HOUSE "THE DAY OF MY WEDDING. It Is my Dads House, She's already claiming it. My dad looked at me and shook his head, I knew that meant , Don't say anything . I left.(without violence of any nature) After 3 yrs or so She got what she wanted and thankfully left. She got money and a car loan from my dad which was never paid back.My brother caught her red handed at her boyfriend's house , before the slit . He had a restraining order put on him, so off he goes to Alabama to Mom. I'm going to make this short , it could be a book , I don't feel like typing that long. He is just the most sour and bitter person I've ever met. he's envious of everything other people have. no matter how small and insignificant. My mom is in her early 70's at this point. She gets in a argument with him over water one day, as she's talking to me on the phone. I hear her say "boy you better put that damn shovel down" take you ass back to Pennsylvania. He was walking behind her and was ,going to hit her in the head with a shovel, because He owed her money on the water bill. I was on the phone I heard everything.He would say just the opposite about himself , His friends At least the ones he has left , keep a distance.There really isn't anything you can do except keep your distance, I feel sorry for the dog he bought.I still have a lot of my art work and other belongings there , But I won't go get them. He called me toxic a few years back, I asked him if he even knew what it meant ?Before my Dad passed away, he called me crying, It seems my brother had contacted my stepsister, with the billionaire husband. He was trying to get my sister to ask her husband to restore a 1974 Monte Carlo for him. She of course said no, It would be too expensive. This is how he thinks, Her husband collects cars, And restores some of them , so naturally what's one more ? Even if it cost more than the restoration to get it to Montana. When she said no , he started begging her and crying.My Dad said Sheen I was never so embarrassed in my entire life. And I believedhim. My Dad didn't raise us to act that way. I've begged my brother to get help, but he knows more than the doctors. Now he's into hoarding. He takes his truck around the streets and picks up things people have thrown away. To do nothing with it. He lets it sit in different rooms of the house.I fell a few months ago , and gashed my head open. I was surprised the next day when he called. He asked how I was ? I think he was hoping I wasn't doing so well . He's going to have to wait a little while longer it seems. Go with God

This is my longest and biggest effort on Quora to date. Grab the popcorn and settle in, this one is quite the story. There is a TL;DR at the end if you don’t want to trudge the murky waters of life with me.“ Mom, when is dad going to be back?” I naively asked as I watched him walk back out to his van. He had been away for a week and was suppose to be back this evening to join us for dinner.“He isn’t coming back.” my mother said with tears streaming down her beautiful face. The pain of this event seemed to have aged her instantly. they had been fighting for weeks as she watched her 28 year marriage helplessly crumble.My 12 year old frame crumpled to the floor in a flood of emotion as I felt the weight of my world crashing down.“I should have known. I should have known!” I cried as I realized my suspicions of my father’s infidelity were confirmed. I had known in the back of my mind something was not right. The late night phone calls, picking fights with my mom, waiting for my mother to leave so he could talk to his mistress. However, at 12 years old, who was I to accuse my dad? At that age, how do you even put into words an adult concept that you only have a vague understanding of? I simply did not want what I knew to be true- to be true.My mother shielded me from the worst of it the best she could but these things have a way of getting out in small town America. People talked, and I listened. It came out that my perfect little family on the outside was not so perfect after all and to make matters worse, the “other” woman was my mother’s sister.After the nuclear fall out of this situation and the buzzing gossip of a small town died down, life took on a new normal for my mom and me. She did the best she could raising an angry teen and raised me with values that I cherish to this day. I vowed to myself that I would become the polar opposite of my father and beat any negative traits of his out of my personality. I promised myself that what happened to our family would never happen when I married. I would never allow the trauma of divorce to devastate my family the way it had when I was a child. How wrong I was…“What kind of coffee can I get you today, sir?” A perky voice said to me over the counter of a Starbucks. I was 25 years old and just starting to get my life under control. Her brown eyes shone like something from another world and her smile made the pit of my stomach drop. “Actually, I work here now, pretty girl.” I said, trying my best to be smooth. “I am just looking for the manager so I can start my first shift.” Her eyes widened bigger- if that is even possible and she told me her name was, Flora. (not her real name)From that moment on, Flora and I were inseparable. A 1 year engagement soon followed and we were married in the fall in a storybook wedding in the mountains. Life was perfect. I had my beautiful bride and along with it a chance to prove that I was more of a man than my father would ever be. My mom loved her like the daughter she never had and her family took me in as a son. Life was finally settling down the way I had always expected it to as I found myself in yet another small town two states away from the small town with all of those bad memories so long ago.“I’m pregnant!” The weight of those words. They can bring immediate joy to a couple longing to create a family or immediate fear to a couple not ready for such a life event. For Flora and me there was a mixture of both. We wanted children so very badly but we did not quite expect it to happen 4 months after saying “I do”. The joy that comes with realizing yet another dream of yours is being fulfilled can only be equalled by the fear of the fact that you have no money saved and no plan to provide for a yet another person in your household. 9 months later the light of my world and the joy of my life entered the world in the same way she has done everything since. Full speed ahead and VERY loud! My heart was full. I was complete. There are no words that can express the all-encompassing love I had for my first baby girl. As pure happiness flooded our lives when we brought our child home for the first time, reality set in as well.“I’m sorry, Mr. Baggett, not this year. Please apply next year for consideration.” I was working a low wage job trying my best to get into nursing school when Fauna (not her real name) was born. When I was passed over for the 2nd time for entry into nursing school in favor of kids just coming out of high school I decided to do the only thing a man can do when he is faced with the prospect of his family living in poverty- get a real job. This, my friends is where my story begins to go off the rails.Upon hearing the bad new that I did not get into nursing school, I march myself down the hall of the community college and in an angry fit signed myself up for truck driving school- desperate time, desperate measures and all of that. 6 weeks later, I found myself with a newly minted Class A CDL and I was employed to pilot an 80 ft beast on public roadways. It was an adventure of a lifetime! We went from below the poverty line to lower middle class overnight. My family was going to be OK. Just one small problem. This job took me away for extended periods of time from what I treasured most- my precious wife and daughter. No matter, we do what we need to do to survive and I was proud to be providing a GOOD life for my family.“I love you and miss you and want you to come home.” These are the words that I heard every night when I was over the road. I smiled and told Flora I would be home as soon as I could and we would spend time together. Our one year old daughter would coo into the phone and say “da-da” as I pushed the accelerator pedal on my big truck just a little harder trying to make my way home just a little faster. What Flora was saying in those words that I was not hearing in our phone call every night was that she was lonely. Flora is and always has been somewhat co-dependent and very needing of attention. She was not cut out to be a truck driver’s wife and it affected her badly. She sought comfort from her loneliness outside of our marriage in the form of an old high school boyfriend while I was on the road. I found out when she could not hide it from me anymore because her parents found out and threatened to tell me if she wouldn’t. I am forever grateful for their loyalty but as you can imagine this new devastated me. It devastated us. I took a little time off from driving as I felt like I needed to heal my family and needed to heal myself. Because I was in a bad place emotionally, I gave Flora time to decide what she wanted. Did she want to continue our marriage or did she want to end it here and now. I should have ran then but I couldn’t bear the thought of walking away from my daughter or the happy life we had built so far. In the end, we decided to give it another try. I found a local job driving a day cab truck for a coal company and we settled into our happy life once more- except this time I was a little more broken, a little more cautious with Flora. I don’t know that we ever got over the first incident like this which may have led to all the others. However, I still kept my promise. I was NOT my dad. My story would not end in divorce.“You just can’t give me what I need!”“I am not happy here!”“You expect me to be the maid!”She rarely cleaned and we lived in filth until I was so fed up with it that I would clean on my only day off. Not one time in 8 years of marriage did she cook a meal. Our daughter learned to fix herself the best breakfast she could at the age of 4 because mommy would sleep until noon. I relied on her parents and a close family friend to make sure Fauna was taken care of because my job required me to work 11 hours a day for 6 days a week. All of this caused many fight between us and the phrases above were thrown around on a daily basis. 2 more infidelities on her part just made things worse. However, I couldn’t leave. I just couldn’t do it. I did not know how to fix the situation but I couldn’t just walk away. Fauna needed me. Hell, even though she was awful, Flora, the mother of my child needed me, too and I would NOT walk out on my family like my dad did. I would NOT be him. MY story would not end in divorce.“Let’s go on a cruise!” Flora said shortly after my daughter’s 5th birthday. Things were seeming to get better around our house. I am not sure if we were all just getting used to our version of dysfunctional or if it was the recent job change that found me working a 8–5 at a bank and finally home for dinner every night that changed things but we were once again looking up. Granted, my heart was VERY guarded around this woman by this point but at least I still had my little family even if it was hanging by threads. I thought the cruise was a fantastic idea. Maybe we could mend broken trust. Maybe we could find each other again. We took a grand cruise to the Bahama’s that February and I have to say that is was a spectacular trip. We came home well rested and closer than we had been in a long time. I thought things might actually work out. Flora had other plans…“Guess what, I’m pregnant!” It was early April right after the cruise and I was grilling pork chops when Flora came to me with the pregnancy test in hand. As irrational as it sounds, my immediate reaction was that I needed to throw another pork chop on the grill since there would be another person to feed! I was elated with this news. This time, I was ready. We were in a much better spot financially than we were the first time around and I now had a job that afforded me to be home on nights and weekends. Again, I fooled myself into thinking that we might actually make it through life as a single family unit. What could go wrong at this point? One thing and one thing only…“It’s a girl!” Just when I thought there was no room left in my heart for love, Merryweather(not her real name, thank God) my youngest daughter kicks the door wide open and takes her rightful spot. When you have just one child, you wonder how people with multiple children have room to love more than one. That question is answered the instant that your second born child is placed into your arms. To say that I was happy is the understatement of the century. I now held my whole world in both arms. One was 6 years old with blond hair and missing teeth and the other fit neatly in my arm not much bigger than a bag of flour. My heart grew 6 sizes that day.“I don’t want to be a youth pastor’s wife!” I woke up to my bride sobbing in bed. It was the middle of February and Merryweather was 10 days old. When I asked her what was wrong this was her response. She was referring to the news that my boss had asked me to consider and pray about becoming the youth pastor at his new church. I had told her I was considering it and had asked her to do the same. “O.K., I will just tell them no. It’s no big deal. Please stop crying.” I had assumed post pregnancy hormones had gotten the best of her and she just needed some time to calm down. “NO! you don’t understand. I don’t want to be any kind of wife of yours anymore.” Now I knew there was something wrong and I had an idea what it was. You see, Flora exhibited the same kind of behavior each and every time she cheated on me. It was like a light switch flipped and all of a sudden she was a different person. She was harsh and there was nothing I could do right. She withdrew from me emotionally and physically. I had missed it this time because she was pregnant and I thought those things were just hormones stemming from the pregnancy. I was wrong. Very wrong…“The papers will be there waiting for you to sign. Read them carefully so you know what you are signing but I need you to sign them so we can end this quickly.” As my heart shattered into a million pieces, these are the last words I spoke to Flora as my wife. I couldn’t even look at her when I said them. You asked me the moment that I said I couldn’t do it anymore and walked away? This was the end result.The day after my wife revealed to me that she didn’t want to be my wife anymore, she stopped trying or pretending all together. She would stay out late while I took care of the kids. She got herself a job so she could be away more. I knew what was happening but I could not find the proof and she was not forthcoming. She was content living her life as single but using me to support her and have a place to crash when she finally got tired. Then, either because subconsciously she wanted to get caught or she just genuinely made a mistake, she left her tablet under her pillow when she went to work. Now, some of you will criticize me for snooping, but I have no regrets because the way she was treating us- the people she claimed to love- had to come to an end. It was agonizing watching my 6 year old wonder where her mom was every night and it was difficult taking care of a 2 week old every night and holding down a job by day. Flora had basically documented her entire affair on a messenger app. This time, instead of it being some random stranger I did not know, it was my close friend who had been in my house many many time over the summer and it had taken place over a 7 month period while she was pregnant with my child!That, Reader, that is the moment I said I could not do it anymore and WALKED AWAY. I walked away for the health of my children. I walked away for my sanity. I felt like a failure. My story DID end in divorce but it was not from lack of trying.I copied everything I could on that tablet to several different medias (email, SD cards, photo, etc.) Reading it was gut wrenching. Sexting. She had sent him nude photos. They had talked about their plan kick me out and leave me penniless. They referred to MY children as THEIR children and talked about how they were going to live a happy life with my girls without me in it. I copied it all and when she came home, I told her so. I then told her I would not hesitate to use this to get full and complete custody of our children. I also told her I would parade witness after witness on the stand to testify against her sanity. I even threatened to drug screen her new found love because it came out in those messages that he had a rather nasty drug problem. I am not sure about how much of this I could actually have pulled off in court but it didn’t matter. It had the effect I needed it to. She believed me. I made a deal with her that I would waive child support completely if she would sign residential custody of the children over to me. The next day, I told her the words above at the beginning of this section and she went and signed without hesitation. The ONLY time in my life that I was grateful that I had just a little bit of my dad in me is during this whole ordeal. He was ruthless. He could emotionally detach himself from someone instantly and in that instant, they became the enemy. I have done that once and only once in my life and it was in this situation. I am grateful I was able to do it to get me and my children out of a toxic situation. That was 3 years ago this past June.“Daddy, when is mommy going to show up?” What do you tell a 6 year old little girl when her parent doesn’t show up to see her like she said she would? It broke my heart over and over. I would sit with my girls and cry. After a while, they stopped asking and just didn’t expect her to be there. If she showed up, it was a bonus for them but we just lived our life if she didn’t.Flora has gotten better about seeing the kids as the years have gone on. At first, it was a 50/50 shot whether she would make it or not. Now, she comes by most Saturdays for 2 or 3 hours. The kids love seeing their mom but they don’t have a particularly close relationship with her and that few hours once a week seems to be enough for my ex-wife to feel like she is a good mom. Things are often still tense with us. She tries to befriend me often but I keep her away. I know what kind of hurt she is capable of and I want to no part of her drama in my life. She is now on her 3rd or 4th relationship since we divorced. I can’t really keep up with them anymore. I am sure there will be many more. I pity her, really. She is now 30 and has not found her place in this world. She is searching for happiness and it always seems to elude her because she has never figured out how to just be happy exactly where she is.As for me and the girls, we live a quiet life out in the country of a small town in Alabama. My children and my God are the only things that keep me going. We live 30 yards from her parents on the same plot of land and they help me immensely with my girls. For as treacherous and as disloyal as Flora has been to me, her parents have been the complete opposite. Treating me as their son just like the first time they met me. As for me, I am happy. I have a good job, a peaceful home, and two little girls that love their daddy like he hung the moon. I have found that happiness isn’t about what you own or where you live or even largely what relationship you are in. Happiness can be found anywhere, in most any situation and my truth is that, surrounded by my girls and the people that I love in a place that I love, I have found my true happiness. I have found my happiness exactly where I am. I call it Happiness-in-Place.Thanks for reading!Edits appreciated!TL;DR- After some difficult things happened when I was a kid, I married and had kids with a woman who ended up cheating on me 4 times. The last time was with a good friend of mine while she was pregnant with my second child. That was my “No, I can’t do this anymore” moment. However, all is well that ends well.

I do not understand why people continue to ask this. I do not understand why at least one legislature (Alabama, then maybe this is self-explanatory) saw fit to require the teaching of cursive in their schools.The National Archives is soliciting older people to assist them in “transcribing” all of the documents they have that are written in cursive, partially because they are going digital, but largely because this, and future, generations, will not read, or write, cursive, except electronically. Just like with any language, including dyslexia, a click of the mouse transforms what I see as gibberish, into something that I can read. Nice Time Roman font can be cursive with a similar click, should there be someone that actually wants to read it that way.Why should schools spend time teaching cursive? I learned to write calligraphy many years ago, which did improve my cursive writing, but that was for fun — a hobby. Those with degrees in things like public history, or art, will translate cursive in the future. The average person will have no need to write in such a way, not even for a signature. I recently bought a piece of property. I never signed a signature. Actually, at the time of the closing, I was floating down the Seine River using the ship’s wifi to access the proceedings, and “sign” or “initial” when required.Do we ask if students should learn to crank a car, or even drive a standard shift? Do we require students to follow recipes to cook? Do we require students to learn to read a paper map? wind an alarm clock? use a rotary phone? place a call in a phone booth? contact the operator? look up a phone number in the “yellow pages?” write a paper check? deposit a paper check at a brick and mortar bank? fill in the bubbles on a test form? conduct an interview face-to-face? balance a checkbook that is on paper? read a newspaper? take pictures with a Brownie camera? do comparison shopping in the Sunday flyers? buy a car by going to a “showroom?” look for a job in the white pages? type on a typewriter?This reminds me of another question on Quora, that I read today, that queried how the 50’s were different from today. I did not reply for many had done superior jobs in doing so. This is the “magic” time so many in this country are holding onto. That “magic” was on Live it to Beaver,” “The Andy Griffith Show,” or “Happy Days.”Things were not so happy for the majority of people. Children were abused. Veterans suffered from PTSD, but we did not understand that yet. Husbands beat their wives. Alcoholism was rampant. Divorce was not as uncommon as one might think. 50% of children were not allowed in school, or could not afford to stay in school, or were warehoused in separate schools. Women were subjugated to men in ways that seem inhumane and ridiculous today. I haven't space, or time, to even begin the story of racism, for people of color, American Indians, Japanese, etc.I learned to write cursive in the 1950’s. Like memorizing multiplication tables, I thought it was a waste of time then, and I can live quite well without it today.