28 March, 2025
- Black Lawyer
- Mar 28
- 3 min read
“The Therapist Wore Sequins”
Filed in: Hell Nah County, Texas (regrettably and repeatedly)
Dear Diary,
Today’s custody trial was less “court of law” and more Real Housewives of Hell Nah County: Family Court Edition. I arrived with a legal pad, a triple-shot oat milk latte, and the vague hope that everyone would behave like adults. That hope died ten minutes in.
Let’s begin with the key players.
My client, Nova-Rae Thompson, was once a mild-mannered finance executive until she went on a soul retreat in Tulum, met a woman named Moonchelle, and returned to Texas a “womb healer”, a rose quartz, renamed her child Zephyr (yes, like the wind) and a firm belief that microwaves kill creativity.
Her soon-to-be-ex, Calvin, was a dentist with delusions of grandeur and the emotional depth of a travel-sized shampoo bottle. He filed for full custody because Nova-Rae lets Zephyr bathe with crystals and once referred to bedtime as a “vibrational shutdown.”
You may think that’s a joke. I assure you, it’s not.
Then came the magic mushrooms.
Calvin found out about Nova-Rae’s extracurricular enlightenment that occurred during his visitation weekend with Zephyr. The police—bless them—responded to a wellness call from a neighbor who reported a woman “twirling in the grass and whispering at the constellations.” Officers arrived to find Nova-Rae in her backyard, wrapped in a kimono, arms outstretched to the sky, murmuring,“The stars are speaking truths we’re too afraid to hear.”
And here’s the kicker: because the divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, the police had Calvin listed as next of kin. He received the call mid-manicure and immediately alerted his solicitor, demanding an emergency hearing and claiming Zephyr was being raised in a “psychedelic pagan rave den.”
No arrests were made. No child was present. Just vibes disturbed and grass stains on her shorts.
And then there was Ms. Felicity Vance, the court-appointed therapist—clinical psychologist by trade, disco ball by aesthetic. She entered court in a gold sequin pantsuit, rhinestone glasses, and what I can only describe as sorcery stilettos. She took the stand and said, “Let’s align our expectations, shall we?”
When asked if Nova-Rae was fit to parent, Ms. Vance calmly replied:
“She wasn’t unstable. Just… spiritually overcooked.”
The courtroom inhaled collectively.
The bailiff coughed.
and I....aged three years.
She continued:
“Zephyr is hydrated, emotionally literate, and currently journaling with prompts like ‘Who am I outside of ego?’ The child is thriving. Frankly, I took notes.”
Nova-Rae clutched her sachel in triumph. Calvin scowled so hard I thought his forehead would fold in on itself.
Then came Becky-on-the-Brink, Calvin’s solicitor, clutching her trial binder like it contained a confession from Usher.
She bellowed,
“Your Honor, we have photographic evidence of the child performing yoga in a crop top that says ‘Woke Baby.’ We also have documentation that Ms. Thompson attempted to charge an iPad under moonlight!”
The judge leaned in, squinting at the photo.
“Is that child in crow pose?”
It was. With perfect alignment.
That’s when Calvin stood up and shouted,
“I just want my daughter to be normal!”
The judge, with the poise of a woman who’d heard it all and then some, replied:
“Sir, your daughter does grounding meditations and uses her words. You, on the other hand, subpoenaed her birth chart. Please sit.”
The ruling?
Nova-Rae was granted primary custody.
Calvin was granted a standard possession order, zero input on spiritual routines, and court-mandated attendance in Co-Parenting Through the Cosmos—a 6-week course featuring conflict resolution through chakras and lunar journaling. I kid you not - it includes crystal conflict resolution and Mercury retrograde safety planning.
Nova-Rae moonwalked out of court in a linen jumpsuit whispering “justice” to herself. Calvin stormed off shouting about “paganism and Pilates.” Ms. Vance? She dabbed her forehead with a crystal-infused cleansing cloth and floated away into what I can only assume was a waiting Tesla.
Court is supposed to be about truth. But in Hell Nah County, it’s about who has the better sage bundle, the wilder therapist, and the child who can out-breathe both their parents. If emotional regulation were currency, Zephyr would be the Bank of England. Calvin would owe child support and karmic interest.
Disclaimer:
All characters and events are entirely fictional. If you feel attacked, check your zodiac sign and log off....respectfully.
Tag your court therapist and your moon-charging iPad. New entries weekly. Manifest wisely.
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