Outwitting the Devil in Family Court: Bad Bunny, Drifting, and the Birth of Mind Monarch
- MM
- Feb 10
- 6 min read
Updated: Feb 12
For years, I thought my biggest regret would be not having enough happy pictures. Now I know it’s something harder: my real regret is all the photos that lied.
There’s a Bad Bunny song called “Debí tirar más fotos” that cracked that truth open for me. The title translates to “I should’ve taken more photos,” but the song is really about regret—the kind that sneaks up on you when you finally look back at your life and realize how many small moments you rushed through or performed instead of actually living.
When Benito performed “Debí tirar más fotos” at Super Bowl 60, some people obsessed over the politics of a Spanish‑speaking Puerto Rican artist taking the halftime stage. I, being a fluent Spanish speaker, heard something different: a prayer of love and grief. A man saying, I wish I had held my people closer. I wish I had taken more pictures of the truth before everything changed.
That’s when it landed:
I didn’t just miss photos.
I used photos to survive a story that was killing me.
The photos that told a different story
On the outside, my family looked good.
We had the posed smiles, the “we made it” milestones, the curated posts that said: We are happy. We are blessed. We are okay.
Behind the camera, high‑conflict ruled:
Constant tension and eggshell walking.
Emotional whiplash, silent treatments, and unpredictable explosions.
Our son absorbing energy he didn’t have words for—only behavior to show it.
Those photos became proof that I could perform “happy family” on command. They were also evidence of how far I was drifting from my own truth.
Napoleon Hill, in Outwitting the Devil, describes “drifting” as what happens when you stop thinking for yourself and let fear and habit run your life. That was me—performing stability while my health, my finances, my safety, my son, and my spirit were breaking.
Performing “happy family” while drifting in chaos
High‑conflict relationships and post‑separation abuse are their own kind of hypnosis.
You tell yourself:
“If the photos look okay, maybe it’s not that bad.”
“If I can just keep the peace, my child will be fine.”
“If I show the world we’re stable, the court will see I’m reasonable.”
But the body keeps the score, and so do our children. Research on high‑conflict divorce shows that ongoing hostility and chaos harm kids far more than the label “divorced” itself. The performance might fool outsiders, but it doesn’t protect the people living inside it.
Hill says that patterns of behavior become a rhythm: the more you repeat them, the harder they are to break. In high‑conflict families, that rhythm sounds like:
Minimizing red flags.
Normalizing abuse as “just how they are.”
Sacrificing your sanity so the photo—and later, the court record—looks good.
The divorce that started long before the papers
By the time someone files, the marriage has usually been dying for a long time—two people sharing a house and a last name, but living separate emotional lives. The ring is still on, the photos still look “happy,” but inside there’s distance, hostility, and a child absorbing the fallout.
In 2015, we took a trip to Hawaii that was supposed to save us. From the outside, it was sunsets and “we made it” photos; in reality, it was a last‑ditch “save‑cation” for something already beyond repair. When we came home, the mask came off: daily yelling, demeaning comments, hidden infidelity, and money quietly moved out of our joint account.
What I was told was “marital obligation” became sex I did not want, did not consent to, but was pressured or coerced into. That’s not a rough patch. That’s sexual violence and coercive control, even inside a marriage. There are no photos from those nights—but those are the images my body remembers.
When the abuse moves into court
Leaving did not end the harm. It changed its shape.
Once the divorce and custody case started, the same person who had screamed, lied, and hidden money found a new weapon: the legal system. That pattern has a name—post‑separation legal abuse—and it’s a recognized form of coercive control.
Here’s what it looked like in my life:
Endless filings and motions I had to respond to or risk losing my rights.
Games with continuances and “scheduling conflicts” that dragged hearings out for months.
Ignoring orders, blowing past deadlines, “forgetting” to provide documents, forcing me back to court to enforce what was already decided.
Using accusations and narratives to try to flip the script and paint me as the problem.
Every round cost time, money, energy, and years of my life I can’t get back.
High‑conflict cases like mine routinely last several times longer than typical divorces and drain families financially. While he played games with the process, I was trying to hold a job, parent our son, stay regulated enough to function, and figure out how to fight back without becoming the version of me his story depended on.
Outwitting the “Devil” in high‑conflict families
In Outwitting the Devil, “the Devil” is a metaphor for fear, complacency, and systems that keep you stuck. It shows up as:
Fear of leaving.
Fear of losing your child.
Fear of not being believed in court.
Fear that you don’t deserve more.
Hill calls the opposite of drifting an “independent thinker”—someone who chooses a clear purpose, refuses to be broken by failure, and builds new patterns on purpose.
In high‑conflict custody and divorce, that looks like:
Naming post‑separation abuse instead of calling it “mutual conflict.”
Prioritizing your and your child’s mental health over the appearance of a perfect family.
Accepting that you can’t control everything, while taking radical responsibility for the choices you do have.
It’s not about perfection or instant healing. It’s about deciding you will no longer drift.
Why Mind Monarch exists
Mind Monarch was born in the gap between the photos and the truth.
It exists because:
Too many parents and caregivers are living in “picture‑perfect” families that are emotionally dangerous behind closed doors.
Too many survivors are thrown into family court with nothing but a stack of text messages, screenshots, filings, Google, and sheer panic.
Too many children are used as weapons in high‑conflict divorces, even though long‑term exposure to hostility is linked with anxiety, depression, behavioral issues, and trauma.
This is not a space for spiritual bypassing or “just co‑parent nicely.” It’s a space for people who are in the fire right now.
Mind Monarch offers:
Trauma‑informed high‑conflict coaching so you can think clearly, plan strategically, and stop drifting in survival mode.
Child‑centered mediation that doesn’t pretend things are “civil” when they aren’t, and that understands high‑conflict patterns, post‑separation abuse, and coercive control.
Court navigation support that respects your time, your culture, your safety, and the realities of bias and power in these systems.
The goal is not to give you prettier photos. The goal is to help you build a life—and a case—that doesn’t need to lie.
From “happy” photos to honest patterns
Changing your life in this context is less about big breakthroughs and more about small, repeatable choices. Hill writes about replacing destructive patterns with new, intentional ones that compound over time. In a high‑conflict case, that might look like:
Choosing not to respond to every provocation, even when your nervous system is screaming.
Documenting patterns carefully instead of fighting every battle in real time.
Showing your child, through your behavior, what calm accountability looks like—even when the other parent won’t.
Building a support team (legal, emotional, spiritual) that actually sees what you’re living through.
These are not small things. They are acts of spiritual and psychological rebellion against systems that benefit from your confusion.
My new regret—and my invitation to you
I used to regret not taking more pictures.
Now, my regret is every time I chose the photo over my own truth.
I can’t go back and change those images, but I can change what I do with the story now. Mind Monarch is part of that choice—not just for me, but for the people who see themselves in this.
If you’re:
Stuck in a high‑conflict divorce or custody case that’s eroding your sense of self.
Trying to protect your child while being painted as “difficult,” “crazy,” or “uncooperative.”
Tired of pretending the family in the photos is the family you actually live with.
This space is for you.
You don’t have to keep drifting. You don’t have to keep performing “safe family” for systems that don’t live in your home.
You deserve support that’s honest about high‑conflict, rooted in trauma‑informed care, and fiercely protective of your and your child’s long‑term wellbeing.
Mind Monarch is grounded in research, compassion, and strategy—not vibes or platitudes. I study how high‑conflict dynamics and family court impact adults and children and turn that knowledge into clear, practical steps you can actually use. I’m not someone who confuses condescension with consciousness. This is a space where your reality is believed, your culture and context matter, and your goals drive the plan. The focus is on positive outcomes and as smooth a path forward as possible in a very imperfect system.
If you see yourself in this story and you’re ready for honest, strategic support, I invite you to book a free consultation. We’ll look at what you’re facing, what you want for yourself and your child, and whether Mind Monarch is the right fit to walk this path with you.
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