Memorial Days Past & CF’s Stressful Morning

These are short so I’m going to bless you with two Blasts From the Past at once. There is lots of commentary from Present Day Sam, though. Plus, it’s Saturday and this never seems to be a heavy traffic day.

Blast From the Past 38
May 2014

He asked me yesterday if I was prepared to spend Memorial Day with him this year. I looked at him like he was crazy. “I’ve been around for twenty of them!” And then I realized that last year on Memorial Day he was knee deep in his little affair with Harley. It had been rekindled and everything. He went to a Veteran’s thing and if he reached out to anyone it was probably her.

Present Day Sam Says: In 2014 we began purchasing about 50 small flags and went to a cemetery and would place flags on the servicemen’s graves. Last year, 2015, we were supposed to go to my family’s cemetery about an hour away and place flowers and flags on the graves. My Mamaw and most of the members of her family are all buried there; at least four uncles and my great grandfather all fought in various wars so we have plenty of servicemen in my family alone. My cousin who died in Afghanistan in 2012 is also buried there. That year, 2015, we were going to be able to recognize them with flags, and not simply random strangers. Strangely, CF was unable to accompany us. He was too frail to go; he was having too tough of a day. I’m sure he spent the majority of his day texting and sexting with Harley once again. I hope she made the day bearable for the poor little sad sausage.

This year he called and whined to Rock Star that she hadn’t called and wished him a Happy Memorial Day. She told him it wasn’t the day to thank the living; it was a day to remember the dead. Her alternate response was going to be that it was now Harley’s job to thank him for his service. He followed that up with how she should know, at age 15, that this was always the worst day for him. Every year. Despite bringing home all of his men. Despite, to the best of my knowledge, not closely knowing anyone who died! As I’ve recounted this story before my wise beyond her years daughter replied that the worst day of her life was finding out her father was cheating on her mother. Always ready with an answer and even more ready to play victim, CF tells her he’s sorry about that but that I never really loved him anyway.
Blast From the Past 39
May 2014

He was having another stressful morning. I asked if he had taken his medication. No. Go ahead and take it now. He did. And I’m left wondering how it’s possible that he dealt with the stress of carrying on an affair last year. How did he manage to pull that off? Everything is stressing him out. I don’t know how he managed to live a double life all summer long, especially one that could have cost him everything. Maybe he thrives on danger. I’ve frequently wondered how he managed to lead men in battle and bring every one of them home safely. Or maybe this is simply more PTSD. He held it together for 3 1/2 months and now I get to deal with the fallout.

Present Day Sam Says: Every time I read this I think of Anthony Weiner and his sexting pseudonym, Carlos Danger.

It sickens me to think of how quickly I fell into thinking that PTSD had something to do with his state of mind. I think I was searching for anything that would explain his behavior. Now I believe it was him simply having a toddler tantrum because he had been caught and he was worried I wouldn’t make the move with him. Perhaps he was in cahoots with her the entire time. I don’t know; I don’t care. It does not make one damn bit of difference to me.

I think in the end he fell apart back then because he could. He knew I would take care of everything. He knew I would keep it together. Plus, it turns out he’s not really dealing all that well anyway. Once the money was gone the breakdown was back on.

That Time He Mixed Up My Birthday With the Whore’s

Blast From the Past 37

May 2014

Just one of those things that pops into my head. We got a new garage door opener. I’m not sure when. Can’t remember if it was before or after D Day. Nonetheless, my husband decides to make the code my birthday. Except he totally messes it up and uses the wrong month. Guess who’s birthday is in that month? The whore’s! So it’s my day and her month and I’ll always figure he just mixed up our birthdays. Good times. Hey, on the bright side I won’t have to deal with it in my new shit hole of a home.

House Hunting Blues

Hello all!  It’s Thursday. Time to take a break from being philosophical and digging deep into other topics. Let’s discuss house hunting and my long ago temper tantrum.

Blast From the Past 36

May 2014

Motherfucker! Today is not a good day. I shared my list of houses with my Zack today and he immediately dismisses pretty much everything due to price. He wants to keep it under $300k. HA! I’ve looked and looked and the only way you get that is by giving shit up. Either it’s small, outdated, worn down, or on a tiny lot.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a hot button issue but I know he and the whore discussed their dream house and I wonder if I’m just not picking the right house.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a hot button issue if this weren’t the fucking city he was planning to move to to be closer to his whore. This was their whole fucking plan. Get him closer so he could fuck her every other weekend. Maybe we should just buy a double wide so he has plenty of money left over to fly to his home state and stay at a really nice hotel while he fucks his whore. Maybe we should just take our daughter out of gymnastics so he has even more money to spend on his whore. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be the one to pick the house out this whole time. Maybe they’ve already decided together what kind of house they want so when I find out he’s fucking around with her still she can just move into her fucking dream house. It wasn’t ever supposed to be mine. It was always supposed to be hers.

I live in a house I tolerate now. The only good part about moving was the chance to get a redo. Now I’m being asked to move to the city he originally intended to move to to be closer to his whore; I’m being asked to drive two hours to take my daughter to gym, and stay for hours in the town with the same name as the whore’s town. I’m being asked to give up all my friends and volunteer activities. I’m going to be asked to socialize with his whore loving family, to spend holidays with them, to have them in my house. And what do I get in return for that? JACK SHIT! I’m moving into another shit hole that I hate and all the promises we made to our kids were just lies.

The funny part is his sister who has cheated on every man she has married has everything she wants. I’m faithful for 20 years and I get nothing. Except cheated on.

All his bullshit about “whatever you want, baby” is just that. Bullshit. And now he’s saying we may join the country club so we don’t need a yard big enough for a pool. A pool at the country club is no fucking different than buying passes at any water park. It’s no different than loading them up and taking them to a lake every day. I’m sure as hell not skinny dipping in it. I’m waiting for him to buy me a $300 pool from Walmart and call it a day.

He doesn’t know why we need a house that’s more than 2500 square feet. Gee, maybe because we have two kids that are 11 and 13 and so we’ll have two teenagers in the house. God willing they’ll have friends and we’ll have a houseful of teenagers. We need a place to put them. A place they can go and be loud and goofy and they won’t disturb us. Can’t really do that with 2500 square feet. We’ll all be on top of each other. And it’s not like they can just take everyone over to the country club. Of course, there is the possibility that they’ll be so embarrassed by our house they won’t bring anybody over. Won’t that be great?

Their rooms will be the size of shoe boxes. The house will be so fucking small whenever people visit they’ll have to pay to stay at a hotel. Which means no one will visit. Which means all the bullshit about being closer to family will be just that- bullshit. Or a cruel joke.

And I know it’s pointless to buy a fixer upper. Nothing ever gets done until we move. If we move into a shit hole tomorrow we’ll still be living in a shit hole ten years from now.

Now he’s worried they won’t do well living in the country. They’re both delighted at the idea. And he’s never the one dealing with the phone calls about dogs barking, or dealing with the neighbors because one of the kids has done something minor and stupid, or been accused of doing something. I’m done with it. He can field the phone calls. He can get his ass up off the couch and deal with the neighbors. I’m. Done.

I deleted all my house hunting apps and at this point I don’t plan on going with him to look. He can buy whatever fucking house he wants. If I don’t like it I’ll stay here and divorce his ass. Or move in with my mom and divorce him. Either way, I’m not living in another house I hate, not when it’s located in Whoreville, and not when I’m being asked to give up everything.

Maybe he can take his fucking whore to look. Since they’re soul mates and have already talked about their dream house I’m sure it will be much smoother taking her. And since they wouldn’t want to move her into a house she hates it just makes so much more sense for her to pick the house out.

Oh yeah, May 1st marked twenty years together. Happy Anniversary, you lying, cheating bastard.

Present Day Sam Says:  I will admit that I sound like a complete spoiled brat in this post; looking back on everything that has happened in the last two years I realize the size of our house is so insignificant. I will also admit this is not the nicest entry and could possibly have hurt his feelings.  I don’t think it rises to the level of, “OMG!  My wife is going to leave me and she’s so mean and she hates me and will never forgive me so I may as well go fuck my cousin!”

Death To the Divorced!

I’ve been trying to expand my horizons so I will sometimes click on other people’s blogs when something interesting comes up. Not long ago I clicked on a blog post that was a rebuttal to another post which was mocking a movie that the author thought celebrated divorce. Of course, I had to track down the original post, and that author was indeed decrying divorce. There was a second blog entry, also talking about the perils of divorce. The author seemed to be irked about how casually people divorce but the commenters were even more critical.

Can’t have divorced people thinking they might be doing anything especially bad, after all!

… just another attempt to make mommy and daddy feel better about wrecking undeserved havoc on their children.

It serves no purpose except to make parents feel better for not honoring their vows and putting their kids through Hell.

The movie ends with the lead character talking about how sometimes it’s better for the whole family if mommy and daddy don’t live with each other. Apparently this was added to make actual divorced people feel less guilty after watching divorce wreak a path of destruction throughout the film, where the parties harmed the most are the ones the most innocent. Can’t have divorced people thinking they might have made a mistake, after all.

Those were just a few of the comments. So nice to know I’m putting my children through Hell and have wrecked undeserved havoc on them.

One of the commenters linked to his blog which was even more harsh in its attitude towards divorce. This one went so far as to suggest that perhaps divorced people should be taxed at a higher rate to make up for “polluting” society.

I’m not a fan of divorce.  In fact, when I got married I took my vows very seriously and I had no intentions of ever walking away from my marriage. There was a very brief period of time when CF’s drinking was out of control and he once again quit therapy that I thought, “I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.” There were moments after his emotional affair that I wondered if I could forgive and forget, move on and rebuild. I will even cop to having a few moments of righteous anger when I definitely thought about leaving. The reality is I would have never done it. I was committed. I didn’t believe in getting a divorce and truly felt that with the right attitude I could overcome pretty much anything. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t make me happy then I would find things that would. My attitude was he was the person I picked and for better or for worse I would stand by him until the end. In other words, I’m not one of those people who believe you change partners whenever things get difficult or the butterflies aren’t fluttering in your stomach any longer. I’m not a big believer in the whole, “I’m just not happy; therefore, I deserve to divorce you, shatter our family, and go find someone else.” I do realize that sometimes that is the reality. Occasionally, two people are so utterly mismatched that no matter how much they try they will never be able to make it work.

Unfortunately, sometimes there are issues with addiction, abuse, and/or adultery. The Bible clearly states that adultery is grounds for divorce. I know that some churches will counsel the cheated on spouse to stay and fight but if God tells me I can get a divorce I’m going to go with His counsel and not some man’s. I think that if you are dealing with abuse or adultery you are completely within your rights to leave. Sometimes things just can’t be fixed. Living with an alcoholic or a drug abuser can be draining; you never know what to expect. And to live with someone who might one day gamble your home and savings away? No thank you.

Sometimes one person in the marriage simply walks out the door. There is no fixing that.  I mean sure, you could refuse to divorce. I guess you could never get around to filing and if the disappearing spouse doesn’t bother with filing either you would remain married. It’s not exactly my ideal way to live and it’s fraught with potential land mines should your legally wedded spouse do something stupid, but it is an option.

I suppose these very Christian bloggers might give you a pass if you divorce for one of the above reasons.  Maybe not. The problem is they don’t usually differentiate.  Divorce is ugly and horrible and evil.  Period. That seems to be their motto. Someone commented that divorce is always a moral failure. Another suggested basically ostracizing divorced people and linked to an article that supposedly proves that having a divorced person in your social circle leads to a higher likelihood of divorce in your own marriage, as if there is some divorce bug which you can catch.

Well, I’m sorry but I’m not a horrible, evil person, and I’m not contagious with divorce cooties. My husband was cheating once again; any moral failure was on his part. My conscience is clear. It was very apparent that he had one foot out the door. He had given her thousands of dollars, 2 iPhones and was paying her cell phone bill over the summer and he had another bank account I didn’t even know existed until I got the notice from the investment company letting him know they had transferred the rest of the money from his stocks into said account. I would later find out that checking account was a joint checking account and he had given her free access to half his paycheck. He was interviewing for jobs in her state for crying out loud!  There was nothing to save. I had to go into self-preservation mode and make sure my children and I weren’t left with absolutely nothing.

I’m not a fan of divorce but I’m also not a fan of trying to shame others because they are divorced. I think that way too many people  throw in the towel too easily but that’s their cross to bear. I also think that although divorce is not ideal for children it is not the end of the world for them and we need to stop with this shaming of single parents.

I did the majority of the work with my two kids the entire length of my marriage. Their dad went to work and provided for us and I did pretty much everything else.  One year Picasso had to write a thank you note at Thanksgiving. He thanked me for cooking for him because otherwise he would starve. I realize it was an exaggeration and CF would have fed his kids, but the way they looked at their lives I did the day to day work; their father was absent and uninvolved. Their father may have abandoned them but that is no fault of mine. He chose to cheat.  He chose to move out of the state. I had no control of that. My kids have one sane parent. I am there for them and I will do my best to never let them down. Ideally they would have two sane, fantastic parents but one is better than none and sadly, I know too many kids who don’t have even that one.

I know I have lamented my situation countless times on this blog. I am disappointed that my kids are going to live out the rest of their lives in a “broken” home and with their father out of the picture. The reality is they are probably going to be okay. Things will change for them and they probably won’t have all the frills they used to have but they will survive. It is not the ideal situation but then again it never was.

I found out after I told people about the impending divorce that some people felt very sorry for Picasso because he frequently would admit that he wished he had a dad who would play basketball with him or throw a ball around with him. He knew his father was lacking and he wasn’t shy about talking about it. I stayed and it still didn’t help. People still felt horrible for my kids and knew what a disaster CF was as a father.

I never wanted this. I wanted to grow old together with the person I picked 20+ years ago. He wasn’t perfect but then again, neither was I. I was willing to accept his faults. The last thing I need to do is go and read crap from “Christians” who think that I am somehow polluting society and that my children have no hope. I don’t need to read that I’m some sort of moral failure or that people shouldn’t hang around me lest their own marriage falls apart. I sure as hell didn’t deliberately wreck havoc on innocent children. I simply decided I was no longer willing to eat that particular flavor of shit sandwich that CF was all too willing to hand me. I already feel bad enough about what my kids are going through and if I could have prevented it I would have.  I had sucked it up for years before all of this, so take your judgement and shove it up your ass. Or, put a slightly nicer way: Come on, Christians. Love your neighbor, even if he or she might be one of those icky divorced people.

Half, Step and Bio

I saw this on Facebook by the same person who was extolling the virtues of being friendly with your ex.  You know, the one who was all about the whole, “The greatest gift you can give your kid is to remain friends with their other parent.” This time she was tackling the issue of half and step siblings.


She has been married twice and has two children with each of her husbands. Apparently, someone commented recently that her two youngest children were just her oldest child’s half brothers. Of course, that’s “not how they play in their house.” One of her friends even went so far as to say she resented terms such as half, step and bio family.

Really? Are you so offended by the truth that you have to pretend the truth doesn’t actually exist? A full sibling, or bio sibling is a sibling with whom you share both parents. You and your brother Ted share a mom and a dad; Ted is your brother. A step sibling is the child of your step parent. Mommy marries Daryl and Daryl has a kid named Cheryl? Cheryl is your stepsister. A half sibling is a sibling with whom you share you only one parent. Mommy marries Daryl and they have a baby named Carol? Carol is your half sister. Those terms are not casting doubt on your love for them or the strength of your relationship; it’s simply describing how each person is related. Hell, you might think Ted is a total dick and love Cheryl and Carol a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck! Biology does not make the relationship, but it’s ridiculous to be offended when those differences are mentioned.

Let me be very clear. I firmly believe that everyone in the family should be treated fairly and with love and compassion. If pigs were to fly and Hell froze over and I got remarried and acquired with that marriage youngish stepchildren I would absolutely treat them with love and care; I believe I would treat them no differently than I treat my own children. I also think that the way the people were referring to L’s daughter’s brothers as “only” her half brothers was unnecessary and probably meant to minimize the relationship.  “Those are Susie’s half brothers,” is fine by me. “Those are only Susie’s half brothers,” is not fine by me.

I also realize that steps/halfs/bios all come in different flavors. One of my very best friends is stepmom to three kids that she claims as her own; they call her “Mom”. Their mother died when the oldest was only 7. The youngest child was an infant and has no memories of his mom. I’m certain that if she and her husband had gone on to have more children those kids would be referred to as simply their brother or sister. Other people marry (or remarry) when the kids are teens or adults. I would think that makes it much more difficult to think of everyone as one big happy family, no matter how inclusive everyone is. Obviously if I marry a man who has kids that are out of the house and possibly live some distance away they aren’t going to be thinking of me as mommy and of my kids as their siblings. I dated a guy once who referred to his step siblings as simply brothers and sisters; they had been raised together since they were 3. I have a stepsister. Our parents married when I was 21 and she was 23. We’ve never lived in the same house together; we didn’t grow up together. We are friendly; she was in my wedding. But I don’t refer to her as my sister; in fact, I sometimes forget I even have a stepsister.  Again, combining very young families is a completely different kettle of fish compared to trying to combine much older families.

I am, however, a very accurate person. If I tell someone I left the house at 8:30 and then realize it was more like 8:40, I’m going to amend my statement. I realize the person doesn’t care that there was a ten minute time difference but I do. I am very precise and slightly anal retentive about things like that. If I say something happened in January and then I realize it was in March, again, I’ll be amending my statement. Writing this blog can sometimes be a challenge because I want to disguise details but I just can’t lie! I could say I had two boys or two girls and give their ages as 10 and 5. Hell, I could say I had 4 kids! That would really disguise me. I could say I was married 25 years or 10 years and that my kids loved ice skating and basketball and karate but those would all be lies! The entire time I would writing I would be thinking, “Lie! Lie! Lie! You’re just a big liar!”

It then follows that I’m going to be precise about my relationships. If I marry a man and he has three kids I don’t suddenly have 5 kids. I gave birth to two. I may love those kids (hopefully in my fictitious world where I’m suddenly getting married I would) but they are not MY children. I am NOT their mother. They have a mom. I am not it. They would be my stepchildren. It doesn’t mean I don’t love them or want them around. It doesn’t mean I hate them or resent them. It simply gives a very precise description of our relationship. They are my husband’s children from his first marriage. Should we divorce (and second marriages have a divorce rate of around 65%, I believe) I will no longer have a relationship with those kids more than likely, especially if they are minors when we divorce. Acknowledging that they are stepchildren doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that these are children I love and care for who have two legal parents and I’m not one of them!

The same goes for half sibling.  It is a technical term that describes two siblings who share one parent. I have no doubt there are some half siblings who are super close and couldn’t imagine referring to that sibling as anything other than brother or sister. I’m equally sure there are half siblings who have very little to do with one another- either because of age or distance or a shitty relationship with a parent or step-parent.

My cousin (step cousin, if we’re accurate) is the only child of her mother and father’s marriage. Her mother went on to have two more children with her second husband and her father went on to have two more children with his second wife. I’m sure she loves all of her siblings; however, when she was entering middle school her parents got tired of her ping ponging between them and told her she needed to choose where she was going to live. She chose her dad’s house. Her parents lived quite some distance apart. The end result was she lived her daily life with two of her siblings. The other two she saw sporadically. I think it’s hard to say they are all simply her brothers and sisters when some of them have led completely different lives from her and her other siblings. I also wonder, “If Beth and Ryan and Emma and Payton are all Katie’s siblings then why don’t Beth and Ryan know Emma and Payton? Why doesn’t Katie have a picture of her and all of her siblings- Beth, Ryan, Emma, and Payton?” Oh yes, that’s right.  Because Beth and Ryan are her mother’s children from her second marriage and Emma and Payton are her father’s children from his second marriage! They don’t mix and mingle because they have different parents. Nothing nefarious about it. It’s a simple fact.

Then you start getting into the fact that Beth and Ryan go to horseback riding camp every summer but Katie doesn’t because she’s off with her dad all summer, and Emma and Payton go skiing every Christmas vacation but Katie doesn’t because she’s with her mom every other year. Plus, Katie and Beth both love to dance and go to the same dance company; Katie mentors Beth and they bond over the activity. Emma and Payton love to dance, too, but since Katie isn’t around she doesn’t mentor either of them or bond with them over the activity; instead they bond together in the same way that Katie and Beth have because they are together every day and involved on the same dance team. I know that even kids in intact families have different experiences but most of the main experiences are shared together unless there is a major age difference. I’ve never taken one child on vacation and left the other behind. I’ve never celebrated holidays with one kid but not the other. For better or for worse Picasso and Rock Star have been together on all the vacations and all the holidays and all the family trips.

I would also be willing to bet that if you were raised together you don’t tend to see them as half siblings quite as much as if you lived in separate homes. If I were to have more children I would probably tend to see my younger children as Picasso and Rock Star’s brothers or sisters. I’m sure, being the person I am, that the fact that they were indeed not full blooded siblings would be in the forefront of my mind but I would probably refer to them as simply siblings. If CF and Harley had a child together? I’m definitely going to differentiate. And not just because I hate them. Honestly, it’s a little weird to think of my children having another brother or sister that I have no relationship with, have no knowledge of, never spend any time with, and probably have never even set eyes on. Plus, I think that drives the point home yet again. How is that child my child’s sibling, not half sibling, not step sibling, but full sibling, if I’ve never even seen the kid? It’s impossible.

CF is the only child of his mother and father. He refers to all of his half siblings as simply brother and sisters. He even refers to his step-siblings as brothers. His cousin he refers to as his girlfriend or fiancee. Oh, Sam, you’re so bad! I digress. Regardless of what he calls them if he ever needs a kidney or bone marrow transplant he’s probably shit out of luck. Your best bet for a successful match is a full blooded sibling.

I have a very sweet friend who lost her young child to cancer. She had four children from her first marriage and two from her second. He was the oldest child from her second marriage. His younger brother was an almost perfect match. None of the four older children were a match. They’ve all been raised together. They refer to all of them as brothers and sisters. Emotionally there is no difference. Medically speaking?  Oh hell yeah.

And thus concludes my rant!

The Pain Olympics

With all that’s going on in Rio I thought this was an apt time to write about this.  You’ve all heard of the Pain Olympics, right?  It’s an amazing competition where there are no winners because, let’s face it, if you’ve won the Pain Olympics then your life is pretty much shit. Sometimes it’s where someone tries to one up someone else. Oh, your husband of 15 years cheated on you with his secretary? Well, MY husband of 20 years cheated on me with my sister! To a lesser extent it can be when other people tell you that your pain is nothing compared to all the starving children in North Korea or the people who have lost limbs in war or… or… or…

I first encountered this when I was going through all of my pregnancy losses. There was what seemed like real competition between women who had children and were experiencing loss and those who didn’t have children and were experiencing loss. I got to the point though where I finally figured out it’s not that one person has it worse. It all sucks; it’s simply a matter of different issues.

When it was between miscarrying mothers the big issue that women with children faced was the fact that many times their loss wasn’t looked at with sympathy.  They were frequently told to be thankful for the child or children they had. I think that’s horrible. A loss is a loss and just because a woman has one or two or more children already doesn’t mean that she wants this next child any less than the person who has no children. At the same time a woman who has no children may be gaining a lot of sympathy but she’s also facing the fact that she may never become a mom. That’s a whole other kettle of fish. They have different issues; neither has it better or worse. There are no winners in the Pain Olympics.

I sometimes see that with infidelity. And again, it all boils down to different issues. At different stages you have different issues.  Different sexes have different issues. No one has it better or worse, although there are definitely some really shitty situations out there.

For example when it comes to men vs. women very few men suffer the financial struggles that a lot of women endure. I read somewhere that after a divorce a man’s lifestyle generally improves  while a woman’s lifestyle generally decreases. Stay at home dads are still far and few between which means they’re not wondering how on earth they’re going to provide for their children in the event of a divorce. The last statistic I saw on women and staying at home was that 50% of women choose to stay at home. That’s a lot of women who are potentially facing divorce that are financially dependent on their husbands. The opposite doesn’t seem to happen quite so often. On the other hand it’s still an uphill battle for most men to get decent custody of their kids. Very few men become the primary custodial parent and getting 50/50 is still an uphill battle for most.  I can’t imagine anything more painful than having your wife cheat on you and then losing out on seeing your kids every day and on top of that having to pay your cheating ex-wife child support and possibly even alimony. What a shit sandwich! And it’s not one that women frequently are asked to eat. Also on the plus side though is it seems most men are seen as “valuable commodities” once they’re back on the market. I’ve heard many men be told that “their stock will trade high” in the dating world. You’ve got a good job and you’re a good father? Should you choose to return to dating you will probably have very little trouble finding dates, according to what I hear.

Then there’s the difference between divorcing in your 20s vs. your 30s vs. your 40s vs. your 50s and on up. I would imagine that in yours 20s you can’t even believe that what was once a bright promising future has turned into a nightmare so quickly. You get married and you think it will be forever and within only a year or two (or maybe a few more) you’re facing infidelity and divorce. That’s the way I felt after my first miscarriage. It had taken forever to finally get pregnant and then when I did I only got to enjoy it it for two weeks before it was all over. There were days I couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over already.

I also think that as you get older more challenges present themselves. I’ve often thought that it would have been so much easier if this had happened when I was in my 30s. It would have been easier to reinvent myself, easier to go back to school, easier to get hired, and more time to make money. But then I think of those women who are starting over in their 50s and 60s. I don’t know how they do it, but they do!

They have unique challenges as well. The older you are the closer you are to retirement. You’ve probably got a lot of years together with that other person and just as you think you’ll be enjoying your golden years he or she yells, “Surprise! I’m done with you! Let’s split everything up and go our separate ways.” I’m not sure how easy it would be to recreate yourself at 50 or 60. I definitely think it would be hard to get hired and if they don’t get a great settlement (or aren’t independently wealthy) they may have a rough remaining life. I’m don’t know how you pick up and rebuild after spending 30-40 years with someone and having that person discard you.

It’s not just the financial end of it either. I think you have many more chances to date the younger you are. I also think you have a much better chance of creating a family with someone else the younger your children are; unfortunately, that usually corresponds with our own ages. And for those who say you can find love at any age? While that may be true it’s also true that women typically live longer than men which means that as you enter your 50s and 60s and 70s as a woman more and more of your potential dates are dying. Sorry to be morbid but them’s the facts!

Those who have been married many years are dealing with their own issues. I am amazed at the number of people I see over on Chump Lady who have been left after 25, 30 and 35 years. It blows my mind. For myself I feel like I wasted 20 plus years of my life with CF and I wonder if it would be any better if I had ended it after only 5 or 10 years. Perhaps I would have had another chance at happiness. I’m 47. Even if I met “the love of my life” how many years would I really get with him? And yet I feel for those who are divorcing after only a few years. Again, I think it must feel like the rug has been pulled out from underneath you. You got married and thought it would be forever and it wasn’t. I’m not someone who ended up divorced shortly after I married so I don’t know what all their challenges are but I am sure they have their own specific issues.

For me the biggest issue I have to get over is the difference between women with jobs and women without jobs. I read about these women who have just graduated or been promoted or they’re talking about how once they threw their cheater out their lifestyle improved so much. I really have to take a step back because I sometimes feel myself thinking, “Man, if I had a good job and could support myself and my kids with no problem this would be so much easier!” But I know that these women all have their own challenges.

There are those who are mourning the fact that they were madly in love with their partner and those who thought of their spouse as their best friend with whom they did everything. Some people are dealing with serial cheaters. Others are dealing with spouses conducting long term affairs. Some are dealing with partners who have cheated since the very beginning (or maybe even before!) of the marriage and others are dealing with people who are wondering what they did to cause the cheater to cheat after x number of years. Some people are dealing with a cheater who leaves for the whore. They walk out the door and never offer the betrayed spouse a chance to win them back. While that sounds horrible (and is basically what happened in my situation) there are those who would say we are the lucky ones. Sometimes they try to hoover you back in and they mess with your mind. Those who deal with the cheaters who try to come back swear that’s the worst. Some are left for others who are seen as physically more desirable or are younger while some wonder what on earth their dipshit spouse sees in the whore. People deal with the whore being a co-worker, a best friend, a family member, a long ago girlfriend or boyfriend or a random stranger. Some deal with the fact that their spouse is cheating with prostitutes. There are all kinds of possibilities.

And of course, when you’re talking about unprotected sex you need to mention STDs. Some people have been “gifted” with incurable diseases, others with the more curable type. One woman shared her story of how she miscarried thanks to the STD her husband passed along to her. Others talk about cervical cancer that was caused by the HPV virus their husbands gave them. Awesome!

I always wonder if it would be easier to be left for someone of the opposite sex, i.e. if CF was gay. I hear about this on occasion. I truly don’t know how I would feel. On one hand I think, “Well, it’s not me. Obviously I’m not his type.” On the other hand I could very well be thinking, “Why the hell did you waste my time? Why did you have kids with me when you knew you weren’t into women?” In the end though I think cheating is cheating and it would hurt no matter who it was.

Then there are the people who abandon their children vs. those who mindfuck the kids. People who are engaged in nasty custody battles and people who are cheated on that end up losing their kids to the cheater’s mind games.

While I am grateful I don’t have to share my kids with the whore due to their ages I also realize it will make it much more difficult for someone else to come in and be a father figure to them. At the same time, I’m sure that those with very young children who must send them off and then listen to them talk fondly about the affair partner think I’ve got it made. Other people deal with their kids having a relationship with the other parent and their affair partner even though the kids are grown. Again, I can’t imagine the heartache behind losing your spouse AND your children to a home wrecker. I can’t imagine dealing with my children having a fantastic relationship with Harley.

Some people divorce and yet they are able to keep the family home and their kids remain at their current schools. Other people end up having to sell the family home and perhaps even move out of town. Some are living at homeless shelters or on air mattresses in empty apartments.

I’ve heard of people who have never received a dime in support from their cheater whether because they got screwed in the divorce or because the cheater just never paid while others end up with incredibly generous settlements. And most men, of course, don’t end up with support orders, although I suppose they could end up with a nice settlement (perhaps not having to split a pension or 401k, or getting the house). I’ve heard of cases where the cheater spent college education funds, mortgaged the house to the hilt, and blew through all the savings and retirement accounts.

There are people who are dealing with abusive cheaters, people who have had their lives threatened. One of the saddest cases I’ve ever heard of was a woman whose son was murdered by his cheating father and then later his family burned her house down, killing her family pets. There are no words to express the horror of that situation.

I’ve also heard of people who find out about the cheating or are left by the cheater while they are dealing with a serious illness, usually cancer. Others are dealing with the serious illness or death of a parent or child when the cheater pulls his or her shit. Nothing like being discarded just when you need someone the most.

Some of us are extremely lucky to have very supportive friends and family. We don’t deal with so-called Switzerland friends and we don’t lose many friends in the divorce. Some of us even keep the in-laws. I know that I am very fortunate in that I have a mom who was more than willing to open her door to me and my kids while others are living in less than stellar conditions. I know there are those that lose friends in the divorce or whose in-laws never talk to them again (yeah, that would be me- no big loss). Some don’t have family left, or the family that is left is either not supportive or they’re outright hostile about the divorce and support the cheater. Again, I can’t even imagine.

There are so many different “events” in these Pain Olympics. Does it really matter who has it worse? It all hurts. It all sucks. There are so many crazy variations. While we might get lucky in one area we could very well get run over with a bus in another area. I’ve got supportive friends and family. I have a place to stay and my children are in no danger of turning against me. I have no STDs and so far our divorce has been free of violence. However, I also wasted 20 years of my life with a man who left me for his cousin, spent our money on her and her kids, abandoned his kids, and has pretty much once again dismantled our lives, causing us to start all over. My kids don’t live in the family home. They’ve had to switch schools. Oh, and I have no job and the douche I’m married to is quite possibly faking a nervous breakdown so he doesn’t have to pay me anything. I’ve got my struggles and other people have theirs. I have a friend who was also moved over 2000 miles across the country before her husband declared he couldn’t be married to her anymore.  Unfortunately for her they moved to a state that didn’t give her alimony, despite the fact she had been a stay-at-home mom to four children for more than ten years. A fellow blogger had two babies in diapers when her husband walked out, moving over 2000 miles away to start over with someone else. What the hell is it with men and moving 2000+ miles away? Is that the magic number? Another friend of mine who was divorced long ago dealt with an abusive cheater who cleaned out their bank account and managed to brainwash their child and turn him against her for almost ten years. As if that wasn’t enough he also dragged her to court repeatedly, despite the fact that he earned six figures and she was barely scraping by. We’ve all got horrible stories. I like to remind myself that everyone has their own Hell to journey through because again, no one wins when they’re competing in the Pain Olympics.  By it’s very nature winning means losing. I wonder if that means losing means winning?

Guess What Today Is?

Today marks the 3 year anti-versary of me finding out about CF and Harley. I was walking into a grocery store preparing for my daughter’s birthday party when I happened to open a message from The Saint.

Did you get a good lawyer yet?  I told you so!

Awesome! My stepdad had just died so my mom was a mess. I’m trying to pull off a birthday party for the first time in about 3 years for Rock Star. I’ve spent the whole summer trying to “win” my husband back. I had thought everything was over between them no later than June, even thought I was definitely all clear in July when she didn’t like his picture on FB. Now here I was dealing with a million different things and I’m being told I’m potentially heading for divorce.  Oh no, The Saint; that wouldn’t happen for another two years.  He had to move us halfway across the country first. He had to take us away from our friends and our lives. Had to buy a new house, buy all brand new furniture, buy a new car, and then put in a pool before he could make that final break.

Happy Anniversary, Cousinfucker! Too bad I didn’t toss you out on your ass three years ago.

Reality Versus Fantasy

I realized that since I was on the road Thursday I didn’t do a TBT. I’m a little late but enjoy! This is a pretty good one, too.

Blast From the Past 35

April 2014

Here’s the more. Zack is not doing well with this move. He’s stressing over everything; his anxiety is out of control. He’s crying all the time, and seeing everything that can go wrong. He’s convinced we’re going to lose money on the house. When he gets like this I think of Harley and all she didn’t know about life with Zack.

First of all, if regular every day life stresses him out, how the Hell did he ever think he could live through a divorce and custody battle? He doesn’t like change, or the unknown, but he’s going to leave me, possibly lose his kids, have to sell his house (with no buyout safety net), and somehow start a life with his whore? Oh, I would have paid to have seen that! Add on the confusion of does he quit his job and find another one in his home state to be with her- yet another stressor because I know he doesn’t want to switch companies, or does she drop everything, possibly leaving behind children, to come out here and then he’s faced with the prospect of being the perfect partner because she’s given up so much to be with him? In hindsight, I would have enjoyed watching that play out. Even being broke and living with my mom I would have fared much better than him. I would have gotten on with my life. He would never have been able to forgive himself for deserting his children, and would never have gotten over their rejection of him.

Secondly, I believe I already wrote about how she only got the jolly Zack, the upbeat Zack, the I’m so in love with my soul mate and life is just grand Zack. I would love to be a fly on the wall the first time he called to talk to the kids and our daughter refused to speak to him. And if our son followed her lead? One of them rejecting him would have been devastating. Two of them? He’d be suicidal. I would love to watch as his beloved whore had to deal with him crying and going on about what a horrible person he was and what a failure as a father he was. He’s not so happy now, is he, Harley? Love didn’t solve that problem, did it? Maybe you could get down on your knees and suck his dick like you were so anxious to do and see if that makes the pain of his children rejecting him go away. I’m guessing it won’t.

I’d love to watch her have to deal with him when something small happens and he’s convinced himself that it’s a major catastrophe, and she needs to talk him down. Or, when he gets in these depressed, anxious moods and nothing you say or do can help.

Come on, baby, tell me how pretty I am. Tell me how happy I make you and how you’ve never felt this way before. I didn’t sign up for this! I wanted happy, and fun, and soul mate crap. We were supposed to pool all our money together and live a fantastic life. We were going to eat dinner together and buy our dream house. Your wife was supposed to be the root of all your unhappiness. Once we were together it was supposed to be all sunshine and roses and rainbows and unicorn glitter. I never signed on for real life, with stress and problems and your emotional instability. We love each other, remember? I make you HAPPY!

Joke’s on you, Harley! This is the real Zack. He’s broken. You need to have a lot of patience and love to deal with everything he brings to the table. You need to know when to intervene and when to let it go. You need to learn to deal with his mood swings and the fact that he won’t get serious about getting help. You have to accept the fact that you’re the one that needs to be grounded because he’s imagining worst case scenarios, and exaggerating even the most benign upsets. You have to be the strong one and you can never fall apart because you’ll be too busy holding him together. You can’t have a bad day because you need to get him through his bad days, and they are many. You need to realize his mind always goes to the worst possible result, and you’ll always need to be telling him he’s not worthless, or unlovable, or a failure.

I’ve built a life with him, Harley. I’ve accepted these things about him. He has many wonderful qualities, too. But I also know most women wouldn’t have lasted five years dealing with this. You? You wouldn’t have lasted a year. You thought you were getting a fairy tale romance. Your “love” was based on deceit and the thrill of being illicit. It was the two of you against the world, and you lived in your own little cocoon where the real world never dared to interfere. In your fantasy he was everything your husband was not, and you were everything I was not. It was complete and utter bullshit.

I’ve lived reality. I’ve moved across the country with him. I’ve endured miscarriages and infertility problems with him. I was there when his father died. I’ve been there in good times and bad. We’ve built a life together based on what is, not what we fantasized about. You would have been in for an extremely rude awakening. I’m almost sorry I didn’t get to witness it because I would have delighted in your joint misery.

Present Day Sam Says:  Looking back on this two years later is interesting.  I was right about some things and wrong about others. He’s been able to deal with his “move” because he didn’t have to do anything.  He walked out the damn door without saying a word to anyone.  Packed up a few clothes and called it good, while telling everyone I threw everything of his away.  He also didn’t seem to mind abandoning his kids.  That hasn’t bothered him nearly as much as I thought it would.

But he is going to have to sell this house at a loss this time around.  He did switch jobs; it didn’t last.  He is not doing well.  Harley is having to deal with all of this bullshit now and I don’t believe she’s going to make it five years.  She has made it a year but for probably the first 6 months they lived in a fantasy world. They were sneaking behind my back, welcomed with open arms by his dysfunctional family, he was giving her thousands of dollars and then later spending several more thousand on her and her kids.  Life was fun!  It was all sex and drinking and blowing money because I took what I was given and paid all the bills and took care of the kids.  Now he doesn’t have access to as much money.  So he has the sadz.  As for me?  I’m FREE!

Me, Donna Reed, Three Black Bears And a Roundabout

I haven’t forgotten about my blog; I’ve been busy lately.  Not a fun busy, either.  It’s been a working, sweat your ass off busy.

As I said earlier I thought I would have plenty of leisure time on my recent trip back to our old house.  I figured it would take a few hours to clean the place and another two hours or so to mow and then the rest of the time I would be able to write. That didn’t happen!

Let’s begin with the third item in this entry’s title. On our way back to the old house, about an hour away, we saw three freaking bears in the middle of the road! Rock Star was driving and thankfully was taking the turn at about 25 mph so we were already going very slowly when we rounded the corner and saw them. It looked like a mama bear (a small mama bear) and 2 cute little cubs; they were just sitting there like they owned the road.  Rock Star and I were both sitting there slack-jawed, not quite believing what we were seeing.  I have never seen a bear out in the wild and that day I saw three of them. I was so astounded I couldn’t even manage to take a picture.

I started cleaning the first night we got there and then finished up the next day- late! I did take a two hour break to meet a friend for lunch and then took another break to talk to another friend later that night. I wasn’t “nose-to-the-grindstone” cleaning but there was a lot of vacuuming going on! Plus, Picasso’s room was a wreck, bare as it was, so I spent more than a few minutes picking that up. The basement was a wreck so that took a while as well. Don’t even get me started on Picasso’s bathroom! It didn’t look disgusting but there seemed to hard water stains or something on the shower and in the toilet so that required some heavy duty scrubbing.

The best part though was what I was wearing while I cleaned. I had packed the night before in between commercials for the Olympics. Not necessarily my brightest idea. I thought I did okay. I get up the next morning once we were back at the old house and pull out my clothes. There’s my dress for court. There are my undies. My extra bra. Three pairs of shorts. Um… where are my tops? Yes, that’s right.  I packed three pairs of shorts, a dress for court, a cute pair of sandals to wear with said dress, and forgot the shirts to go with the shorts. Why not just reuse the shirt I wore the day before? Good question. The answer would be because I wore a maxi dress the day before. So, I spent the day cleaning the house in my cute little dress, feeling like Donna Reed on Leave It To Beaver. Item #2 on this entry’s title- check!

I did end up running out to Kohl’s to buy some tops. I was supposed to meet my cousin for dinner that night, plus I couldn’t very well switch between 2 dresses for the next two days. Besides, with all that cleaning I was a hot, sweaty mess. I should have packed two extra bras!

I also had a few people stop by to buy some of the remaining furniture and I was nice enough to help load it for them. Again, lots of sweat. Ironically, one of the women who bought a chair from me is the sister of the man who did the concrete for my pool. How weird is that?

I was thinking that the next day would be pretty easy because it was all about mowing and running some errands. I was so wrong! The errands were finished with fairly early in the day. I made the mistake of mowing right around 11:30, maybe 12:00. Oh, and I weeded, which I hate! The front flower bed was overflowing with weeds and no amount of weed killer has seemed to helped. I found a pair of gloves in the garage and went to work. After I weeded the four flower beds I decided to try to weed the area around the small pond we have in the backyard.  It seriously looks like a jungle back there.  I’m terrified of snakes and am convinced they are all congregating back there but I forced myself to try to weed anyway.  The operative word is “try”. They were just too damn much for me! I pulled some and mowed some later, but many of them I just couldn’t pull out. I gave up after about 10 minutes and began mowing the backyard.  That was a total bitch! One half of it is mainly weeds. I’m trying to get underneath the trampoline which was a PITA. The crap growing around the pool can’t be mowed; that all had to be pulled by hand. Nothing like weeding around a 16×20 pool when you’re already tired, sweating through your shorts and bra, and it’s 90 plus degrees out with way too much humidity. Already exhausted and feeling like I was going to pass out I took the lawn mower up to the front and began mowing once again. I did take two breaks- one after I weeded the flower beds and then shortly after I mowed the backyard.

I finished up around 3, sold some more items, and then took another shower. I was pretty free after that but Rock Star had friends over and they were using my computer to watch Netflix. It was quite the sight- 6 teenagers all sharing one couch and watching Netflix on my computer. I would think they would rather go out, which is what I did!

We drove home the next day and then on Friday I was up bright and early to help drag stuff outside for yet another yard sale! Once again I was sweating through my clothes.  I am amazed anyone even buys stuff from me since I look so disgusting! My hair generally looks like I’ve stuck my finger in an electric socket, I’m wearing no make-up and my clothes are soaked with sweat.

Anyway, this yard sale led to another funny story the night before and the final item in the title. My mom and I went out to place the signs for the sale. One of the areas where she wanted to put a sign is right at a roundabout. Now, years ago I had joked, “What happens if you decide you just want to continue driving round and round in these things?” Folks, that was my reality that night. I had to go around several times before the traffic cleared up enough to let her out and then I was driving round and round while she placed the sign! I bet I drove around eight times. Then she accused me of almost running her over! The real story is she darted out in front of me!

All that sweating and hanging outside in the heat and humidity led to a whopping $31 payday for me! So not worth it. It was supposed to rain today so we opted to forego the sale. We’ll try again another weekend when the weather is cooler. The good news is I got to spend more time in the roundabout today while my mom picked up the signs. I told her to hop out quickly and she told me she was 70 years old and she didn’t hop anymore. Then she told me she hoped she lived until I was 70 so she could make fun of me in my old age. Glad I can give her something to live for!

Tonight we’re having steak and potatoes. We found out a market up north was selling ribeye steaks- buy one, get TWO free! We each bought 2 and got 4 free so now we have enough for 3 meals.

Tomorrow I am meeting up with some other women from the area. I have never met them; I found them on It’s a group for women over 40 who like having outdoor adventures. Most of these adventures seem to revolve around taking walks and I can certainly do that! We’ll see how that goes.

School starts soon. Please cross your fingers that everything goes smoothly for both of my kids. Rock Star says she has a feeling that it’s going to be a disaster.  She likened it to how she thought her dad and I were getting a divorce before I knew we were getting a divorce. I’m also still waiting to hear back from the school district to see whether or not she got into her first choice. I’m thinking this is not a good sign.

That’s all for me today. Stay tuned!

One Year

According to the clocks I’m looking at it is now 12:09 a.m. on August 10th. One year ago at this time I was sleeping fitfully. My husband was down in his home state at the funeral that never seemed to end.  You know, the one where he refused to take his kids with him so they could see their grandparents.  The one where he said he was going to drive down on a Thursday and return Friday after the funeral. Only on Friday he texted and told me the funeral was on Saturday. And then on Sunday he told me he wasn’t going to start driving home until after 8 because he “wanted to challenge himself” and see if he could do it. Because of all that anxiety he was experiencing. Then he texted me around 11:30 at night to tell me he had found his mom’s keys in his briefcase and had to turn around so he’d start home in the morning. And then mysteriously he didn’t make it home until after 5 that evening.

One year ago, in about, oh, twenty hours or so, I would receive a text message from Harley’s husband and my world would come crumbling down. I still remember where I was sitting when that notification popped up on my phone. “BTW, CF’s been spending his weekends in Whore Town with Harley.” I still remember standing outside on my porch, talking to The Saint, him filling me in on all that had been going on, all the lies CF had been feeding me, and me telling him I didn’t know what I was going to do because we had just bought this house a year ago, had bought new furniture and a new car less than a year ago, and had just completed construction on an inground pool; it had been filled for six days.

Today, one year later, I am back in my old house. It is almost bare. I have sold most of the furniture. Our living room used to be comfortable and cozy. We had a nice big sectional with powered recliners, a coffee table that lifted up so you could use it as a table if you wanted to eat and watch TV, a granite topped desk, a TV stand and a 46” TV. There were pictures and plaques up. I had several end tables and a beautiful sofa table that I used to showcase my monthly decorations. It was warm and inviting and it was home. Right now I’m sitting on the couch that used to reside in our formal living room and resting my feet on the coffee table. The sectional and sofa table were sold before we moved to a lovely couple that are using them in their lake home. I wasn’t going to sell the sofa table but they really loved it and he was persistent so I caved. The matching end table was sold to someone else, also before we left. The desk in our living room is gone; it’s now sitting in Picasso’s new room 600 miles away. I also took the TV with me and sold the stand yesterday. The pictures are all down and are in storage at my mom’s. The plaques, signs and decorations were sold. The other rooms are equally bare.  My house is simply a shell now.

One year has passed and I have already moved my kids another 600 miles and in with my mom. I’ve registered both kids for school. I will begin looking for a job when I return home. I have Back to School Night for both new schools in my phone.

One year has passed and by God I’m still standing! I didn’t lay down and die. No, I made breakfast and paid bills and ran my kids around. I made dinner, listened to their stories and what was important to them, and took care of 3 dogs and 3 cats, as well. I did laundry and washed dishes and cleaned house. I went on field trips and watched cheerleading competitions and gymnastics meets. I cheered my girl on at States and encouraged my boy to try marching band. I wished them good luck as they went off trick-or-treating, I made sure we spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with family, and I filled those Easter baskets. Even when I found out CF had resigned from his job of 15 years and moved out of the state to work side by side with Blockhead and to be closer to Harley I carried on. I didn’t get Rock Star through all four years of high school here but I got her through this year. She got to cheer; she got to compete one more year in gymnastics. Hell, she even got to castrate a calf! For his part, Picasso got to release trout back into the wild. So fuck you, CF and Harley! You didn’t break me. I have my low moments and with your recent antics there have been a lot of those low moments, but you know what? I ALWAYS get back up!

We came back so I could clean up the house a bit, run some errands I didn’t get to run before we left, and grab a few items that were forgotten. I also figured that as long as we were here I might as well try to sell some more furniture. I thought I would have plenty of leisure time but I have stayed pretty busy. Yesterday and the night before I was cleaning. You would think what with the house being nearly vacant it would be a breeze to clean. It is not. I’m not even doing deep cleaning; I’m scrubbing sinks and toilets and then sweeping and vacuuming floors. I’ve also wiped down counters, dusted a little bit, put dishes away, and reloaded the dishwasher. Plus, being the slightly anal retentive person I can sometimes be I have brought in most of the stuff we were selling at the yard sale that had been sitting in the garage and have put it away. It feels like it has taken forever! Some of you may be wondering why on earth I’m cleaning but I don’t want to give CF any ammunition to use against me. We left in total chaos, it felt like, and there was no time to pick up. I didn’t want to be accused of leaving the house a total mess so here I am! On the plus side though I’ve decided I am not shampooing carpets. He can do it himself or pay someone to do it. I’m tired and I’m done with the cleaning.

Today I will be mainly running various errands and crossing my fingers that my prospective buyers actually show up like they are supposed to. I have a textbook of Rock Star’s that I need to return to her school, or rather her former school. I need to pick up their records from their doctor which I forgot to do before I left. I’m making a run to Goodwill to drop off a few boxes of things. I need to take CF’s mail down to the post office and see if they can forward it to him (it was supposed to be forwarded so I’m not sure why it’s coming to this address). I also get to mow the yard which I’m very excited about. If I have time I’m going to try to pick up the outside area.

Fortunately, one of the things I won’t be doing today, on the one year anti-versary of D-Day #2 is going to court. I wanted to come back to do the things I cited above but the primary reason behind it was because I thought I would have to be in court. CF is still going to try to get his support obligations modified or suspended, but his attorney will be filing a separate motion for that and will just agree to everything in my attorney’s motion. I’m fairly certain I will be back. He doesn’t want to have to pay me anything and I want him to so it seems we’re at an impasse.

I was fortunate enough to get to go to lunch with one friend yesterday and today I have plans to go to dinner with another friend. We didn’t get to meet up before I left so I’m really glad we’re getting this chance.

All in all I suppose it’s not a bad way to observe the one year anti-versary of the total destruction of your old life. I’m good with dates so it’s not like it would simply pass with no absolutely notice. I’m trying to keep it low key and just acknowledge it like it’s any other date.  Hopefully next year at this time I won’t even realize what this day is. But for this year, even though I do know what day it is I’m doing okay.