Happy New Year, my fellow bloggers and loyal readers. Truthfully, I’m not much of a New Year’s Eve/New Year’s Day kind of person. I think NYE is a forced holiday where people want you to believe they are having so much fun (like seriously, what is so fun about standing out in the freezing cold at Times Square, or hanging out in a bar drinking while strangers reject you?). And New Year’s Day with all its resolutions and hope for a shiny, improved fresh year? Obviously, I am a bit jaded. I don’t do New Year’s resolutions and I have pretty much given up any hope that a new year will bring any great changes and/or a wonderful new life.
I admire those who are always optimistic. I truly do. I wish I could be more like them. Unfortunately, I have learned the hard way that my life from here on out is not going to be pleasant. And experience has shown me that the last few years have been a clusterfuck of epic disasters.
You know how cheaters always excuse their cheating with the explanation that they “weren’t happy” or “their needs weren’t being met”? Well, after examining the last 4 years of my life I have come to the conclusion that if anyone should have been having an affair it should have been ME! Things have pretty much been shit since 2013 and yet somehow I managed to not go fuck or blow another guy. Wow! We all know that being unhappy entitles you, no, practically requires you, to go have an affair. How did I resist? Oh, that’s right. I have morals and character. I’m not an asshole or a whore.
Oh wait- this is supposed to be about the upcoming new year. My hopes, my dreams, and how everything is going to be so wonderful for me this year. Hmmm… if we examine the last four years I’m fairly certain I shouldn’t be optimistic.
2013 is where it all started. The year was going okay the first four months and then we hit Mother’s Day weekend and my dear husband dropped the bombshell that he had been texting other women. Put it exactly like that- texting other women. Not, “I’ve been sexting other women and telling them disgusting things.” Or, “I’m in love with my cousin and we’re planning a life together. We talk about the house we want to buy and how nice it will be to eat dinner together and whether or not our children will get along.” Or, “Harley the Whore sends me naked pictures.” Nope, it was a very brief, trickle-truth if you will, admission that he had been simply texting other women. And remember, at that time I still thought he was an honorable man and that he was so honest and loyal that it was possible he was distraught over simply texting other women about our marriage or talking to them about his life. What an absolute fool I was.
He followed up his admission with the statement that it was all over and he would never contact any of them again. That was a lie. I, of course, began stalking Harley on Facebook to see what the whore was up to. This led to the feeling that something wasn’t quite right based on her Facebook posts. A confrontation with the husband where he told me he didn’t know if he still loved me. Lots of crying and desperation. Not knowing what my life was going to hold in the future. Trying to win him back all summer long. Finding out in August that he was still messing around with the whore. Having his mom compliment CuntFace’s picture, which pissed me off, sent me into a depressive spiral, and ultimately ended with me using my second FB account as a personal blog which would eventually lead to my divorce. Discovering in October that he was going to take the whore with him to get his tattoo when he was in state for his sister’s wedding, and she was going to get one to declare her love as well, and that he was telling people he was going to marry that bitch.
Even though the outing of the emotional affair ended up leading to a fairly good time in our marriage there were still questions, feelings of inadequacy, tension over not wanting to have anything to do with his family. There were still days I felt awful about the fact I was married to a cheater and that he could profess his love to another person. Our anniversary was tough to get through and I wondered if I could continue to do this. And always there was this expectation that I never mention his cheating again. That I not be sad or feel second best. That I not ask questions because obviously he loved me and chose me, right?
2013 ended with us waiting for an offer for him to relocate to the plant he really wanted- the one that was set into motion when he began his affair with Harley. Because I am an incredible dumbass I agreed to move, thinking we were in a much better place. I agreed to move because I placed my husband’s happiness above my own and that of my children. Ultimately, I ripped my kids’ lives apart for him and he ended up repaying that by cheating on me and abandoning us.
2014 began with the news that he was offered the job towards the end of January. I got to face my kids crying because their world as they knew it was about to change. We were still doing well as a couple. He was more engaged with the family. We went to DisneyLand and the Grand Canyon and Four Corners. All good things. The kids and I made a bucket list of things we wanted to do before we moved. But he was freaking out over the move. Moving is already stressful enough but when you add on a man who breaks down over the slightest thing it becomes even more difficult. Lots more hand holding for him. Assuring him I’m going to move there with the kids and not desert him (like he did to us 18 months later).
Honestly, I had high hopes for the move. I was optimistic that once I got there I would get involved, make new friends, and have a great new life. It would be different, but it would still be good. Instead, I watched as my son dissolved into a fit of tears because he hated it at his new school and stood by while my daughter decided to hang up her competitive leo.
There were bright moments- buying new furniture, getting a new car, buying the new house, hosting Thanksgiving dinner. Rock Star thrived at her new school and in her new life. She eventually decided to do Excel gymnastics and competed on the high school team where she was a star.
But Picasso continued to struggle and I was lonely. I became a hermit. I spent my days watching TV, decorating my house, and playing Candy Crush. I rarely ventured out which was a total 180 for me. Ever since having kids I had kept busy doing something. Now here in this new small town I had nothing. I didn’t volunteer. I wasn’t doing PTA anymore. My daughter competed alone most of the time so there was no real bonding with other moms at the gym. I did meet some moms through high school gymnastics which was nice.
Overall, I was bored and lonely. I missed my old life. And Cousinfucker? Well, we had only been out there for about six weeks when he began whining about his job and how it wasn’t all that he thought it was going to be. I got about four good months out of him after the move and then around December he began sliding downward. I’m sure that was right around the time Blockhead so helpfully pointed out my FB page to him. I found out right after Christmas that he was telling his sister he was “heavily medicated” and that he should never have tried to be happy. He was apologizing for ruining her relationship with me and telling her that she was a wonderful sister. That was also the point at which I got to read her telling him that she was done reaching out to me. It was also the first time I saw his parents in over a year.
Optimist that I was I thought that surely 2015 would be better. It began with Cousinfucker melting down about the movie American Sniper and needing to go to the hospital in late January because of a stomach bug. He was hospitalized for about 36 hours which morphed into 2 1/2 days when he later told the story.
Okay, that wasn’t a good start but it will get better, right? Wrong! He is now drinking heavily. Crying all the time. Telling his sister awful things about me and things I have supposedly done. She encourages him to leave me. He ends up committed to a psych ward the beginning of February because of his supposed suicidal ideations. Nothing like having your husband committed when you’re in a new town and know very few people to help you out. Meanwhile, Tammy Faye is asking me if I have ever actually told him I’ve forgiven him, and telling me she is sorry for whatever it is that she has done. I can’t really explain it but it felt like a huge pile-on, like all of this was my fault and if only I would start acting like nothing had happened between him and Harley then none of this would be happening now.
March brings cluster headaches for him so again he’s down for the count. Meanwhile I have Blockhead breathing down my back, asking how he’s doing and keeping tabs on us. By this point I am seriously depressed and at times thinking about driving off a mountain. There were many entries where I wrote: I’m done. I give up. I can’t do this anymore. Plus, he’s still crying all the time. And after a month of no drinking starts up again.
April Blockhead comes around. I remember feeling like everyone was ganging up on me- Blockhead, Jezebel, Tammy Faye. I can’t tell you why I felt that way; I just did. I had this feeling that everyone was encouraging him to leave me and acting like I was the problem. He was still crying a lot, drinking a lot, sleeping a lot, and distancing himself from us. That Easter I was recording messages for my loved ones to find after they found my body. I still have those messages. There was a lot of crying and apologizing on my part. I was sure he was messing around with Harley again and in hindsight he probably was. I was so lost and felt like suicide was my only way out. I don’t know why. I’m not sure why divorce wasn’t on the table. Maybe I’ll review my old messages and find out. I do know I felt like that would be giving him everything he wanted- he wouldn’t have to divorce me, pay spousal or child support, divide any assets, or split custody of his kids. He could try to merge our kids with hers into one big happy blended family and our kids would never even have to know he was a lying cheater who had fucked around with their new step mommy before my death.
I believe he was planning on seeing her in May but for whatever reason he turned the car around and came home. He claims he had a panic attack and that driving was difficult for him. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Maybe he had an attack of his conscience. Doubtful.
I think May might have actually been one of the few good months I had that year. No illnesses. No suicidal thoughts on my part.
Of course, beginning in June he was sending the gold digging whore money, buying her a cell phone, paying her cell phone bill, lying and gas lighting me. Oh, and watching construction of our pool while he sexted with CuntFace. Good times, good times!
Ironically, the kids and I were actually having a pretty good time. We left in early June to attend Queen B’s graduation and to go visit friends in our former state. We had a great time. I actually missed Cousinfucker and was eager to get back home and to lay down roots in our new town. Again, I was filled with hope and optimism.
July he’s acting off and I’m getting a strange feeling. His therapist and I coached him on driving to what I thought was a job site, but what actually turned out to be a meetup with Harley. He also drove to his mom’s house (ha- I bet he stayed with the whore and not his mom) and officially did the deed with Harley. I’m pretty sure that was the date they consummated their great soulmate relationship. There is a slight chance she came to my house in June, though, and if she did, well then, he fucked her then- in my goddamn bed. He ended up quitting therapy completely.
August my world is turned upside down when I get a message from The Saint letting me know Cousinfucker has been spending his weekends in Whore Town with Harley. I find out he’s cashed in the rest of his stock, has a separate bank account, and is interviewing for a job in her state. I file for divorce.
September (well, technically, August 30th or thereabouts) he cuts me off financially. Flits off to WhoreTown every weekend. I find out he bought her an engagement ring and that he put a deposit down for a dog for her kids. I also find out he took out a $5000 loan on his 401k (hey, gotta buy the whore an engagement ring!).
October, November, December pretty much were all the same. More discoveries of what a shithead he is. More financial abuse. More money spent on kids that aren’t his while his own he leaves floundering. Our temporary support hearing was the day before our 21st anniversary.
Thankfully, I did have money during that period of time because I transferred everything we had in savings and checking into a separate account that was only in my name. I was actually doing pretty good during those last few months. I had a good Thanksgiving, a good Christmas, and a good New Year’s. I thought 2015 was my shit year and I was looking forward to good things happening in 2016. I looked forward to finally being divorced, albeit not until the second half of 2016.
2016 has sucked ass. It began in February when Cousinfucker quit his job of 15 years and moved out of the house and out of the state, all without saying a single word to any of us.
You can reread my blog entries around that time and see what a mess I was. I had no idea what was happening and whether or not he was going to continue to pay his ordered support. I didn’t know if he had received his bonus check. I didn’t know anything and he didn’t feel like he needed to tell me anything either.
I finally got my support check and things went back to normal- for a while. I suppose I enjoyed 4 months of normalcy, thinking that everything was on the right path, before he quit this next job and stopped paying support completely.
Since June my life has been one shit storm after another. I’ve lost my home, pretty much all of my belongings. I had to sell off all of my furniture. I had to take my kids out of their schools and transfer them. I had to leave the state and move 600 miles in with my mother. I have no home of my own. I don’t even have a bedroom. I sleep on a couch most nights. I spent December working two menial paying retail jobs, sometimes working 16 hour days and getting up anywhere between 1:20 and 3:20 to be in to work by 2, 3 or 4 am. Even with all of that I am not really ahead of the game. And I still cry pretty much every day, at least once. It doesn’t usually last long, but it almost always happens at least once a day. I might have missed a day here or there, but I’m pretty consistent.
Cousinfucker has paid nothing since May when CuntFace wrote out the check for me. He’s now claiming to have PTSD and believes his future earnings are only in the $30,000 range. I believe that’s a load of bullshit considering he was making that much when I met him almost 23 years ago.
I start work at the bank on the 9th of this month. I will be making a whopping $11 an hour. After taxes I figure I will make enough to pay my bills and probably cover food costs. My last day at Kohl’s was yesterday but I will continue to work at Target. I’m going to be working 4 am-7 and then heading into the bank. That $100+ dollars I make after taxes each week is all I will have to do anything with my kids, like movies, buying a pizza, or going out to eat, to buy dog food, to buy household essentials like toilet paper, saline solution, school supplies, etc., and to help my kids out with anything they need, such as new pants or something for cheer or football.
I would be depressed about the fact that I only get 4 days of vacation this year but let’s face it- with the money I make where the hell am I going to go?
I have a show-cause hearing on the 3rd of February. I’m fully expecting Cousinfucker to get away with everything. Hell, I’m half expecting to be told I need to pay him something.
Happy New Year? I doubt it. More like: Come on 2017; show me what you’ve got! I don’t dare say I’ve lost everything I can possibly lose because God knows the universe just fucks me harder. So what do you have in store for me, 2017? Am I going to lose a child this year? Maybe have a limb amputated? Get caught in a mass shooting? Sadly, I would welcome that.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to end up declaring bankruptcy in 2017. I will hopefully be divorced at some point although I’m not sure how that’s going to benefit me because I see myself getting totally screwed in the settlement. I’m telling you, evil always wins. My daughter will begin her senior year so I am going to have to pick up a third and possibly fourth job in order to pay for senior year expenses. I should probably just start doing drugs so I can stay up for 36 and 48 hours at a stretch.
Ah, you sweet optimists, I would so love to be you. Unfortunately I have resigned myself to the fact that this is my life. It sucks. I have no hope it will get better. I was supposed to be living on a somewhat comfortable amount of spousal support, not what I was used to, but definitely enough that I wouldn’t have had to work if I didn’t want to. Instead, I am going to live out the rest of my life in poverty because I doubt I will ever see another dime from Cousinfucker. No spousal support. No child support. It’s all on me from now on, after 20 years of indentured servitude. Oh, I’m sure that at some point, when I have put in enough years, working two jobs will mean that I will actually have a little extra instead of barely treading water. Little being the operative word. It might mean that now I can buy a pizza and take my kids to Chili’s in the same week! Of course, by the time that actually happens my kids will be out of the house and in college, so scratch that. As for love and new romance, I have no desire to ever date again or find another mate because I sincerely believe that most people out there are liars and cheaters. I refuse to go through that bullshit again. I’m so fucking tired from working all the time and going in at obscene hours that I don’t have time to meet new people or develop hobbies or to build a new fucking life. This is it. Go to work for shit pay, try to interact with my kids, have my daily crying jag, do some laundry, cook some dinner, write some blog entries, go to bed, repeat. I’m not going to get sucked into thinking that 2017 is going to be a great year for me. It’s more than likely going to be yet another shitty year with a few bits and pieces of, “Hey, that wasn’t so awfully terrible.” I’m sure there will be moments that I laugh. Many more moments where I cry. I’m sure I will find some happy things to celebrate and that it won’t all be a disaster. But primarily I’m not expecting anything, and I’m especially not expecting anything good.
For those of you who believe in the whole New Year nonsense: Happy New Year! May 2017 be prosperous and joyful. I hope it brings you amazing experiences, relationships, and fortunes. For those of you who don’t: Let’s just try to survive yet another year.