Continuing To Lie To Myself

May  2015

Cousinfucker was sad yesterday.  I’m sad for him.  He said he can barely function at work.  That sends alarm bells off.  I know to an outsider it might sound like I’m only concerned with the money but the fact of the matter is even if I went back to work I can’t make anywhere close to what he’s making.  He is our sole breadwinner so if he gets fired because he can’t function any longer we are fucked.  All of us. I’m a little less panicked today than I was yesterday.  I don’t know why.  Possibly because I just dig my head in the sand and trudge on.

I was thinking about this yesterday.  Thinking about happiness, actually.  I mean, I live in a beautiful place.  It’s absolutely gorgeous.  I love the rolling hills and the cows and all the farms dotting the land.  I can even deal with the fact that Whoreville doesn’t have all the conveniences that our previous town does.  We’re 2 hours from DC.  We’re 6 hours from NYC.  About 3 hours from the ocean.  And M is moving here!  I could deal with the fact that I’m not super busy like I was or that I don’t have tons of friends.  What I’m having trouble with is not even having a husband.  I have to always be strong because he is always breaking down.  He can’t support me because I’m busy supporting him.  I look at all these places, these Civil War sites or wineries, and think about how much fun it would be to go to some of that.  And then I realize I won’t be able to because Cousinfucker can’t do it.  He wants to be my best friend but he can’t do anything with me.

Thankfully, he is getting help.  I’m hoping the psychiatrist can prescribe some medication that will really help him.  I feel guilty because I have been falling asleep on the couch the past week or so.  I try not to do that because it makes him feel unloved.

In uplifting news Rock Star went to the cheerleading open gym yesterday and she said it was really fun.  I’m glad she liked it.  That kid has the world by the tail.  Everyone knows her, or at least of her. I tell her all the time I’m living vicariously through her.

Picasso seems to be having better days.  Or if they’re not better he’s keeping it to himself. I’ve been trying to get him an appointment with a child psychologist and Cousinfucker and I have talked about having him tested for ADD. In fact, Cousinfucker thinks there’s a possibility that he himself may have ADD.  Hell, at this point I don’t care what they diagnose.  Just medicate him!

Present Day Sam Says: How fucked up is that? I’m worrying over falling asleep on the couch because it makes him feel unloved. He kicked me out of our bed for over 7 years. You think that might have made me feel unloved? I forgot- I don’t count. The only important thing is that now he has decided I may sleep with him I’m the problem if I fall asleep on the couch.

Re-reading this makes me sad. My daughter did have the world by the tail and now… there are many days when she hates her life. Thanks, Dad!

I did live in a beautiful place. Turns out the mobster was only about 3 hours from me. I lived in a big, beautiful home with every material thing I had ever wanted. And now I live where I live, with my mom. I have very little to call my own. Cousinfucker took all of that away from me. He even took the ability to have a normal relationship with this most wonderful man away from me. Instead of being 3 hours apart and able to see each other every weekend we’re 10.5 hours apart and see each other… once every 2, 3,….9 weeks. Hooray! My husband fucks a whore and gets to see her every weekend while we’re still married and living together, even taking long weekends to see her. Now he’s living with the slut. Me? Yeah, I don’t get every weekend and I certainly don’t get 3 and 4 day weekends. The mobster would love to move to where I am but we are both responsible parents. We don’t do whatever the hell we want whenever we want to do it. So it will be at least 2 years and possibly even more before that becomes a reality.

I worried about what would happen to us if he lost his job because he “couldn’t function.” I should have worried more about me and the kids. Turns out he did just fine, but my premonitions about what would happen to me and the kids were dead on. I will probably always be living near the poverty line thanks to him and what he did to me.

Getting Through the Anti-versaries

May 2015

Nothing much to say, I suppose.  I could make stuff up.  I got my hair done today.  We’re replacing the air conditioning unit and getting a new humidifier.  Hooray for that!  Now maybe I won’t shock myself next winter!

Yesterday marked the 2 year anti-versry of Zack “confessing” to texting various women.  Actually, it marks the 2 year anti-versary of him being forced to admit he had been texting Harley.

It’s strange how our lives coincide.  My wedding anniversary is in December.  Her wedding anniversary is in December.  My birthday is the same day of the month as her wedding anniversary.  My birthday is at the end of one month.  Her birthday is the end of the following month.  I met Zack at the beginning of May; their affair began right around the same time that our relationship started.  He asked me to marry him on May 7th.  He told his nephew he was going to marry her on May 9th.  He half-heartedly confessed his affair on May 11th.

It takes a lot to stay focused during Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and all summer, basically, because that’s when it all began.  April through August I have to try to disregard any notice of the significance.  Hell, the day after our daughter’s birthday is the day the bitch basically said:  I’m fucking your husband!  And then I can relax until October, which is when I discovered him telling his nephew he was going to marry his whore.  Then I have about another month before our anniversary comes up and I deal with all sorts of triggers with that.  I’m hoping that this year all is good.

I do want to get to that point where we celebrate our anniversary as a victory.  A celebration of all the years of our marriage, not just the blissfully happy ones.  I want to be happy.  I want to be content.  I see some of these women on blogs who are so angry years later and I don’t want to be that.  If the affair is still causing you significant pain and unhappiness 3, 4, 5 years later (in some cases even more), then maybe it’s time to move on.  For my part I don’t read the infidelity blogs much anymore.  I deliberately pass right over them most days.  It helps, I’m sure, that so many of my favorites don’t write much anymore.  That’s the rub.  They write to heal and once they’re healed there is no need to write…

I feel like I have mostly let go of it.  Today I even gave thought to wishing him a happy anniversary on FB this year. I don’t know if that will happen or not but I consider it progress.

Obviously, I am in a situation where the OW won’t go away and die but I try not to think about her too much.  I think about her affair with my husband even less.  I am trying to keep the crazy hidden and look on the positive side.  It doesn’t always work but I am trying and that should count for something.

I guess I’m done for today.  Or for now.

Present Day Sam Says: I feel compelled to point out that when he originally confessed to texting with various women he really was texting various women. He was a male whore. A serial sexter!

I find it sad how much I wanted to believe the lies I was telling myself. It’s going to get better. We’re going to get through this. I need to trust him. I’m evolving. I’m thinking of it less and less. I’m making progress.

You know, marriage shouldn’t be that hard. You shouldn’t be dealing with all that crap. If you are, your marriage is probably already over. Call it! Time of death- May 2015.

 

Am I Truly Happy? Part 3

I didn’t discuss the mobster when talking about my happiness in Part 1. Why? I don’t know. He is still present.

No, I do know. He deserves his own page. He makes me incredibly happy. He makes me laugh. He talks me off the ledge when I’m losing it.

I’ve never been with anyone like him before. He is wonderful. He’s sweet, supportive, complimentary. He is fun. He brings me out of my shell. He makes the drive to see me. He spends hours cleaning sap off of my car. He talks to me. He listens. He pours his heart out to me. He never tells me to get over it or to stop whining. He’s okay with me being sad; he doesn’t consider it a personal insult. He says he’ll always be here for me. He actually likes being with me and wants to spend time with me. We talk on the phone and video chat for hours. For some reason that I cannot even begin to understand he loves me. Like, willing to sell his house and business and move up here with me, loves me. He makes me want things I never thought I wanted.

A week or so ago he asked me if I would be okay if the judge ruled against me and CF got away with everything. He asked me if I would be okay if I got no spousal support and we ended up living on whatever the two of us made together- which combined would be maybe $60-70k a year. A far cry from the $200k CF and Harley would be making. A far cry from what I’ve been living on the last 15 years.

Truthfully? I’ve been mulling that question over ever since and I still don’t know 100%. I think I know the answer and yet I hesitate to say yes or no because how do you really know until you’re right in the thick of it?

Here is a cold, hard fact: I want CF to pay for what he’s done. No, I want him to suffer some consequences! He wasted my life. He ripped my world apart and destroyed everything I ever had. He replaced me with a 3-time arrested, lying, cheating, manipulating, gold-digging whore and his life goes on without missing a step while my kids and I struggle to rebuild from nothing. Taking his money away from him and preventing Harley from gaining this fabulous new life is the only thing that will really hit him where it hurts. Asking me if I can be okay with him not being forced to pay and the two of those wastes of oxygen living like royalty is like asking me if my child was murdered and we never found out who did it, would I be okay with it.

How are you really okay with something like that? On the other hand there would be nothing I could do. I can’t scream out for the murderer to turn himself (or herself) in so that he/she could be punished. And really… even if they are punished that doesn’t solve the real problem which is the fact that my child is dead.

That’s pretty much what I told him. I can’t do anything if the judge rules in CF’s favor and he’s off living his fabulous $200k a year life while I’m making less than 25% of that, struggling to pay my bills and support my kids. There is a definite sense of helplessness. It’s frustrating and it makes me want to scream. He may very well get away with everything and there is nothing I can do.

Will I be okay with it? I’d like to be. I hope to be.

When he first asked me that I kept trying to envision what life would be like living on only $60-70k a year. It’s been a very long time since I’ve lived on that kind of money. It may sound snobbish but it’s true.

At first I tried to envision the kind of house we’d live in. All I could see at first is what it wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be a 4000 sq. ft. home with 5 bedrooms, 3 1/2 baths, a pool, hot tub, game room, updated kitchen with granite countertops, enclosed porch, formal living room, dining room, finished basement, separate laundry room, 2 car attached garage, etc. But then I started thinking, “We don’t need 4000 sq. ft. of space. We don’t need 5 bedrooms.”  Some of my best memories of family vacations have been in my mom’s 2 bedroom townhouse in Florida with 9-10 people sharing living space. Do I really want to be paying out 30% of my income on a mortgage payment? I reminded myself that even when CF was making good money we couldn’t indulge like others around us. Why not?

Well, for starters we never built up equity in our homes so we were always starting from scratch. We kept progressing into larger and larger homes. Rock Star was in a very expensive sport. I indulged the kids in expensive birthday parties (even the ones at home), I spent a lot at Christmas, and I shopped often for clothes for Rock Star.  Picasso got his fair share of clothes as well but he’s never been the fashionista that my daughter is. Buy the kid a new Xbox every two years and he’s fine.

We didn’t indulge in the great family vacations that I saw posted on Facebook. We didn’t buy the big toys. We were too busy spending our money elsewhere and paying a large monthly mortgage.

Do I really want that again? No. Furthermore, do I really want granite countertops? Well, yeah, probably. They are really nice. Can I live without them? Of course. Jetted tubs are wonderful when you actually use them but how often did I use our tub when I had a jetted tub the two times we had one? Not often. I’m a shower in the morning type of gal and I just never found much time to soak in the jetted tub. I don’t need a formal living room or a separate dining room. I think I would be quite happy if I had a large master bedroom with walk in closets and an en suite. I really hate having to wander out into the hallway in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

Recently the mobster and I were checking out houses in my area together to see what was available. It turned out to be a lot of fun. The prognosis wasn’t as bad as I had feared originally. And really? I’d much rather live in a smaller house with him than in a 4000 sq. ft. home with all the luxuries with CF. The house just doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m realizing that a lot of the things I worry about and fear don’t matter. For instance… there were times I would let my mind wander to a dark place and I would ask myself what this new future was going to look like. Sure, he’s willing to go places with me, but will we be able to afford to go anyplace? I know he would soak in the hot tub with me but will we ever be able to afford a hot tub on what we make together? I know he loved having a pool and would love to have one again. But will we be able to make that a reality? Other things I wonder about: Will we be able to afford to go on vacation? Will we be able to help out our kids? Will we be able to splurge at Christmas? The mobster loves Christmas. I used to love Christmas before wasting 20+ years with CF and becoming broke. Can we go out to dinner? Can we go out and do things, like visiting wineries, or festivals, or go to the zoo, see a movie or a play? I wondered: Will I be so happy and in love that I don’t care that we struggle all the time? Will I be so happy with him that I no longer want to buy anything or go anywhere if we don’t have any money left over? Will he be enough to make up for the fact that I’m not living in my Barbie dream house? Will I always be longing for a walk-in closet and an en suite? Will I not care that I can’t pay for my daughter’s wedding, or afford to buy her a plane ticket home from college because I’m in a good relationship?

This is what I’ve come up with. I think I was pretty unhappy for a long time. I know this is going to sound like I’m talking out of both sides of my mouth but bear with me.

I made a choice to be happy when I was with CF. I knew our relationship was not like a normal relationship that most people had. I told myself quitting was not an option. Cheating was not an option. So I found joy in things I could. I liked spending money. I liked volunteering. I liked doing things with my kids. I found joy in being the person that would throw money around- not in a vain, in-your-face kind of way, but in a way that would help people. I got joy out shopping, out of decorating, out of buying gifts. It was a pretty lonely existence. Looking back now I believe that I shopped for my kids, my home, and myself as a way to fill that loneliness. It was a justification in some ways for staying.

Here’s another thing that is worth noting. The mobster is the best man I’ve ever been with. He is adventurous and kind and committed. I love spending time with him. I love talking to him.

In the beginning he used to worry that he couldn’t give me all the things I was used to having. I remember telling him that as long as we had enough to pay our bills, do the things we wanted to do for our kids, go out, and take a vacation or two I would be happy. Sometimes it’s very easy to get caught up in all these other scenarios. Sometimes it’s very easy to get caught up in jealousy because the lying cheating ex you were once married to seems to be living high on the hog and not suffering a single consequence.

I think that’s where Chump Lady’s brilliant advice comes in. Concentrate on your own fabulous life. You control no one except you. If I focused on him and what he and the whore are doing and all they have I’d go crazy.  They’ll always have more money than me and the mobster.  If they’re happy for even a day it’s not fair. Those two disordered nitwits should be miserable for the rest of their lives. But they won’t be.

There’s a twist to that though. Cousinfucker will never truly be happy. He’ll be happy for a little while with his whore and his new fake family, living close to his dysfunctional family back in his home state. It’ll go away soon and he’ll be stuck with himself.

It’s true he likes his money and some days I think that may be enough for him, but eventually he’ll start to resent being seen as a wallet. That’s his catch-22- he loves to toss that money around but then he begins to feel like nothing except a paycheck. Because that’s what he’s turned himself into!

The other wrench thrown into this mess is the fact that Harley is a lying, cheating whore herself. Oh, this new lifestyle is real nice right now. It’s new and exciting. But the newness will wear off and she’ll want more and more. The once exciting will be mundane and he’ll have to up his game.

Remember, she’s already blown through over $30k in four months time- just on random crap. No amount of money he makes will ever be enough for her. She’s always going to want more and sooner or later he’ll be fishing her pathetic ass out of the county jail once again because she’s literally written checks her ass can’t cash.

He’s going to be right back where he started: Thinking his money actually means something, trying to be the big man throwing it around and paying for everything, and then resenting that everyone sees him as a payday. He’ll once again be complaining that she’s only with him for the money.

Me? I’ve learned that money doesn’t buy happiness. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’d definitely rather be rich than poor. I’m not stupid; however, I’ve had the guy who made great money. I was alone. I took vacations with my kids while he stayed at home (or went and fucked his cousin). When he did come along he usually ruined them. He didn’t want to do things with me. He didn’t want to socialize with others. He didn’t like celebrating holidays. He was not a partner. He didn’t want to be a part of a family. He didn’t help me. He was a gigantic pain in my ass, looking back on it. He always threw the money in my face, too, and loved to tell others I only stayed for the paycheck. Asshole!

That’s the other twist to this story. This time around I want to be the one making the money. I want to be able to take care of myself even though the mobster tells me he wants to take care of me and he wants to share everything completely.

Ultimately, I think that I’m going to be okay. I don’t really have a choice. If the judge rules that Cousinfucker gets to continue his $200k a year life while the kids and I are reduced to pretty much nothing, then I’ll have to find a way to go on. If Cousinfucker and the whore live lavishly on $200k while the mobster and I live frugally on $60k then so be it. In the end I’d rather be with someone who makes me laugh, someone who values me, someone who loves me over someone who thinks all he has to do is throw money at me. I’d rather do fun, inexpensive things with the mobster than take some grand vacation with CF, not that he’d ever go, of course. I’d rather live in a modest home with the mobster than in a lavish home with CF. Because our home is not eating up our entire paycheck we could buy a hot tub. We would lounge around in it, sip wine and talk about our day, something CF never bothered to do. We could put in a pool eventually and have fun family and friend pool parties as well.

What else does this new future look like? Pizza Night, Family Game Night, and Movie Night with our kids in our cozy home. Walks together in the evening. Getting ice cream. Kayaking. Trips to see our kids. Trips to introduce each other to long distance friends. Vacations together where I’m actually interacting with a partner! Holidays spent celebrating instead of trying to just get through them.

The mobster asked me if I would be okay if the judge ruled in CF’s favor and I ended up living on $60K a year. He also asked me how I would feel if it turned out Harley and CF ended up happily ever after and if they were really a much better suited match. Here’s the final answer. I would love to make CF pay for everything he’s done to me, but ultimately I don’t give a fuck about him and Harley. They deserve each other. They are going to eat each other alive. I can’t even say I wish they get everything they deserve because that bestows too much caring upon the outcome. It grates on me some days; I’m only human. But in the end I really don’t care because I know he’s a horrible person. I know they’re both horrible people and the only thing they have that they care about is the money. I don’t know how yet, but I do know I can make my own money. I may not make as much as they do but I’ll make enough. I also know I would much rather be with the mobster over CF any day. I know he’s a much better man and a much better match. He is the peanut butter to my jelly. He makes me happy. I don’t recall being this happy with CF even in the beginning of our relationship. So… will I be okay? Will I be happy? Hell yes I will!

Am I Truly Happy? Part 2

I guess I didn’t realize some people were so two dimensional. I am very much a three dimensional kind of person. That question of, “How can you say you’re happy when you sound so bitter?” brings me back to the days of trying to have a baby.

We tried for four years before Rock Star was born. It took me nine months to get pregnant the first time and it ended in a miscarriage two weeks later. It took me another nine months the second time and that pregnancy ended only days later. After undergoing some very painful tests I managed to get pregnant 6 months later the third time; that pregnancy was an ectopic pregnancy which took weeks to diagnose and find. Finally, after more than a year after the last loss, I got pregnant with Rock Star.  Meanwhile, my brother and all of his friends were having babies as teenagers. Not just as teenagers, but as people that weren’t even trying to have a baby. In every situation the parents to be were saying, “Oops! What now?” Everyone around me seemed to be having a baby.

In the beginning it was undeniably difficult. I was definitely jealous. Add on to that the fact that my niece was born the day after I miscarried the first time. I remember my brother asking me, “When are you going to come see her?” and me replying, “I just need more time.” It took me a month before I could see her.

I remember I met up with my SIL to be at a dress shop where she was shopping for a wedding dress. And I took that sweet little bundle of delicious baby out of the car seat and I fell in love. I hugged her and loved on her and never looked back. I took that child for weekends when she was younger. When she got stung by a jellyfish I took her in my arms and ran with her through the sand back to the townhouse so that the stings could be doused in ammonia. It was not a short run and as I’ve walked that path in the ensuing years I tell her, “I’m not sure how I did that.” I took her for Spring Break when her parents didn’t know how they were going to pay for child care during the time off from school. I flew her out to see me over the summer when I lived 1500 miles away. I drove 600 miles for a single weekend just to cheer her up when college decision making was overwhelming her. I love her beyond words and she loves me. I am one of her favorite people. It took me a month to be able to see her but ever since that day in the dress shop I have loved that child and I have been the best aunt I could be to her.

Eventually I got to the point where I wanted people, if they were to say anything about my circumstances, to say that I handled myself with grace. I didn’t want to be the jealous, bitter childless woman. I didn’t want to be the woman who couldn’t bear to look at babies or pregnant women, the woman who couldn’t attend a baby shower or child’s birthday party.  As more people I knew got pregnant, especially those who were not trying, I could be happy for them when they shared their news and yet still be sad for myself. I told others in the same situation that exact same thing. Being sad for yourself doesn’t mean you’re not happy for them. It just means they are pregnant and you are not. They’re having a baby, and you are not. It’s okay to feel sad about what you’re missing.

I also realized that other people getting pregnant didn’t lessen my chances. It was still difficult to take sometimes. I was sad for myself because I didn’t know if I would ever become a mom. That’s a hard fact to face when you want that. But the sadness I felt for myself didn’t take away the happiness I felt for others. Hell, to this day I feel a twinge of jealousy when I hear of people who have no problems getting pregnant, or people who have the number of children that I wanted. I am grateful for my two; I truly am. I wanted more, though, and I didn’t get to realize that dream.

That’s the answer to the first question. I can be happy and still be angry at everything my kids and I have been through. For those of you who have read for a while you know the hell I’ve been through, especially since June 10th. So when someone believes it’s impossible to be upset, or angry about what CF has done and still be happy at the same time I am amazed.

I think of my cousin who lost her oldest son in Afghanistan. In the beginning I think she was practically paralyzed by the grief. She mourns his loss every single day. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t have some happy times finally, 5 years later. She has two other children. She takes pride in them and their accomplishments. She spends time with them; she loves them. She’s gone to some fantastic places, done some fantastic things, and had some amazing times. And yet still, there is that loss. It will never go away.

Every holiday when her two kids are gathered around at her house she is going to notice the gaping absence of their brother. When her two other kids get married they will all be missing him and knowing that he should have been there. When she becomes a grandmother for the first time she is going to be reminded of the loss. Every time his birthday rolls around… every time the date of his death passes by… every time a milestone in life is celebrated and he’s not there to celebrate with them… it hurts her and she mourns. Obviously losing your child is not the same as your spouse cheating on you and yet…

Six months ago I was crying every day. I was begging God to end my life; I prayed for an aneurysm or heart attack on a daily basis. Hell, I thought I was making progress when I begged for a terminal illness instead of instant death. Granted, I was going to use that time to create havoc on CF and Harley with no fear of penalty, but still… it was a slight step up.

I had no joy in my life. It consisted of working and sleeping and running my kids around. That was it. I got up at 3:20 in the morning 5 days out of 7, went to work from 4-7 and then turned around, came home, took Rock Star to school, came back home, and then got ready for my second job. I worked 6 days a week most weeks. By the time I quit I was regularly working 7 days a week.

Now? Well, I don’t cry every day. I’m no longer begging for death. I actually have things I look forward to. I’m no longer working two jobs and getting up at 3:20 am most mornings. I have weekends off. I’m doing my best to cultivate relationships. I’ve joined a group at work. I have more work friends. I’ve been on a couple of wine walks around town. I can occasionally feel hopeful about living back in my hometown and all that it has to offer.

I would consider that happiness.

My kids seem to be doing okay and that makes me happy, although there are slight bumps. Picasso is transitioning into high school so I worry about him more. His group of friends don’t go to the same high school and I worry that he has no friends. His cousin attends the same school and they have a class together and eat lunch together. He seems content but you never know. He just spent the weekend at an anime convention so I suppose all is not lost. As I said to him as I drove him to the convention, “Oh, you love anime. You’ll really enjoy this convention.” His reply to me? “Yes, Mom, that’s why I’m going.”

Rock Star at times seems to be over the moon happy and at other times seems to hate her life. I realize most seniors reach that point where they’re “done” with high school but the school year has just started! She has already told me senior year is nothing special for her; she doesn’t know these kids all that well. It’s not like she’s spent four years at this school. I’m sure she would be enjoying her senior year a lot more if she were at her old school, the one where she started her high school years. Not some strange school she was forced to attend after being uprooted. I know there has been talk that she shouldn’t have been made a captain since she hadn’t been here as long as the other girls. I know it upsets her and frustrates her. Them’s the breaks when your dad is a selfish asshole who only thinks of himself. Then again, she has her days when she says she’s basically the main captain and the cheer coach listens to her and seeks out her opinion. She goes back and forth on being happy and being miserable. I know that shortly after school started she had a mini breakdown, bawling that she was so tired and she missed me.

I thought maybe she was upset that I had seen the mobster, or that I wasn’t spending enough time with her because I was focused on him, but that wasn’t it. She just plain misses having me around. She said I was never here because I was always at work but that she was never around either because she was either at practice or work. I couldn’t do much more than hold her and stroke her hair, telling her I loved her. We spent some quality hours together this past weekend so hopefully she understands she can always ask for more time.

She’s also been asking to be put on anxiety meds because she says her anxiety is out of control. The doctor is reluctant to do so and is recommending she see a counselor which she refuses to do. Looks like we’re at a stalemate.

Overall, I think they’re both doing okay. They appear to have adjusted to this new, down-sized life. The life where we have about 90% less money, we don’t have a home of our own, and their mother is never around to do mother type things. Because I’m working to earn that 90% less paycheck.

Am I happy my kids seem to be doing okay? Absolutely. It sure as hell beats the months I spent listening to Rock Star cry. She cried over not getting her license on time. She felt defeated because she was once “somebody” and now she was “nobody”. She had few, if any friends, in the beginning. It was heartbreaking seeing my once vibrant daughter who had been “it” at her former school reduced to feeling as though she was a nameless, faceless, nobody in a sea of new students. Yes, my heart did sing when the tide began to turn.

I’m happy I have a job. It doesn’t pay for shit but it covers the bills I have. Unfortunately, that’s about all it does. It beats not having a job and watching every penny you have slowly circle the drain. I’m not yet at that point where I can confidently say that this will lead to great things and a stellar career. I may have to switch companies before I finally make a decent living. But for right now I’m thankful I have a job even if it only pays $11/hour. I’m thankful somebody was willing to hire me and that I am gaining work experience (again).

I’m thankful I have a place to live. I realize that there are countless people out there going through the same thing that either have parents that won’t or can’t let them move in with them, or simply don’t have parents anymore. I also realize my kids and I would be homeless if not for my mom. Seriously. I. Do Not. Make. Enough. to afford even a shitty apartment somewhere. Ironically, I have approximately $555 left over for the month after I’ve paid my bills. That does not include rent, utilities, or food. Or luxury items like toilet paper, saline solution, tampons, pads, dog food, shampoo, or laundry detergent.

With all that said it is still humiliating to be 48 years old with a college education and not be able to provide for your kids.

Is it really that difficult to imagine how I could be beyond grateful to have a place to call home while at the same time feeling ashamed that I can’t even afford an apartment for the 3 of us?  Their father can afford it but I can’t. In fact, as many of you know by now, their father can afford to move his whore cousin and her 4 kids into a lovely, 2800 sq. ft. brick home that looks remarkably like the home he forced us out of.

He can also afford to put his kids and me on his damn insurance but he doesn’t. Instead, the kids and I are on Medicaid. I would pay $370/month for insurance for the three of us through my employer and then I would have a $2600 deductible for each of us. I barely make enough money to pay the damn bills. How in the hell am I going to manage to cough up another $370 for the insurance and then $100 or so to put aside in an HSA for the time when someone needs to go to the doctor? Oh, that’s right. I do have $555 left over at the end of the month so let’s go ahead and eat through all of that extremely generous amount of money.

He can afford to pay child and spousal support but he doesn’t. Instead his kids get free lunches and textbooks through the schools because we’re considered poor.

Is that bitter? Is it angry? Who the hell cares? It’s a fact! Just like it’s a fact that he’s able to afford all of this because I supported his career ambitions for 20 years. I moved all around the country so he could move up. Of course sometimes we moved because he didn’t like his boss or he didn’t like his pay raise. And now he thinks he should be allowed to discard me and his kids, and his lifestyle should remain the same.

I can be pretty damn happy with my life and still be pissed off at CF’s continued financial rape. The truth of the matter is I haven’t yet managed Chump Lady’s goal of gaining a new life. Oh, I suppose I have; it’s just a really shitty new life. I still struggle with being poor. I still struggle with not being able to provide for my kids on my own. I still struggle with the humiliation of using Medicaid and freebies when 2+ years ago I had no financial concerns. Two plus years ago I was the one checking the box that said I would be willing to send in extra money for a child that couldn’t afford a class field trip; today my kid is the one needing the free field trip. I still struggle with this idea that I will move up or find a new, wonderful job that will pay me well. I still struggle with feeling optimistic because every time I’ve ever let myself feel optimistic it has punched me in the face. I still struggle with this idea that he will get away with everything he has done. I’m steeling myself for that on court day. Despite all of that I am happy. I have done my best to try to find the good in all of this. Again, I’m no longer crying every day or begging for death. Things have definitely gotten better.

That brings me to the next question: Will I be okay if he gets away with it all? Will I be okay if my new life with the mobster means living on maybe $60k a year between the two of us? And that is a question I will answer in Part 3.

Am I Truly Happy?

In the past week or so I’ve been asked if I’m truly happy. Apparently it isn’t believable that I could be happy with the recent developments in my life and still be so “angry” and “bitter” over CF and his treatment of me and our kids. I believe I was accused of talking out of both sides of my mouth actually. I’ve also been asked if I can be happy regardless of the outcome of my divorce. That was a question posed by the mobster one day, and one that I have mulled over at length.

Let’s tackle the first question. Am I truly happy? Or more to the point, how can I say I’m happy when I still rail against the injustice of infidelity and divorce? How can I say I’m happy when I have no desire to be friends with Cousinfucker, and still have copious amounts of anger towards him and the whore?

I believe I already attempted this explanation back in November. My divorce is not final. I don’t have a settlement. What he originally offered me was a joke. He continues to do shit, and a lot of that shit is not something I can easily ignore. Like, say, stopping payment on his support checks. Or…. not paying his court ordered support.

Believe me, I would love to be in a position where his support check was simply a bonus. At this point in time, however, I am not. I am a 48 year old woman re-entering the workforce after a more than 15 year absence. I make $11/hour and I have two kids that are used to living a fairly affluent life. After I pay my current bills I don’t have enough money to rent an apartment, pay utilities, and buy food and necessities, much less have anything left over for fun or for my kids. It’s going to be a long time before I’m truly able to stand on my own and not need his support check.

I’ve said before that he has simply shed his old life for a new one. And that is hard to take some days. After his first affair with Harley (the emotional one) I told him if he ever did this to me again I would make what happened to Jezebel’s Husband #2 seem like a walk in the park. In my old FB entries I referenced taking everything and destroying what I couldn’t take. The truth is he is losing nothing. Nothing that he cares about anyway. And I can’t do anything to him.

Sure, his kids don’t talk to him but he doesn’t really care. It’s good for a pity party soundbite, to act like he misses them and loves them, but the reality is he doesn’t give a shit. He’s got four new kids and they will fawn all over him and act like all his big gifts mean the world to them. Let’s face it- their lives have dramatically improved. They’ve been moved into a home that is nicer than anything they’ve ever lived in. Their mom’s income has doubled by partnering up with my husband, and in turn, their lifestyle has dramatically increased. He goes to their cheerleading competitions and show and tell. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s coaching one of their sports teams. He’s much more involved with them than he ever was with our kids.

Me and my kids? Well, we went from living in a 4000 sq. ft. home with a pool, hot tub, game room, separate bathrooms for all, and nice huge bedrooms into living in my mom’s 1500 sq. ft. home. We live with my mom! He lives with his whore. And our income/lifestyle has decreased by 90% or more. 90%, folks. Think about that for a minute. Imagine losing 90% of everything you have and then get back to me and tell me how happy you are. Tell me you have a smile on your face every fucking day and that you never think about everything that you’ve lost. I will, in turn, tell you that you are a liar.

It is an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. I told him I would wreck havoc upon his life if he ever cheated on me again and I haven’t. I can’t. There is nothing I can do to hurt him and to wreck his life the way he wrecked mine, and by extension, our kids. He is getting away with everything and doing beautifully in his new life.

The mobster likes to point out I won’t walk away with nothing. He’s going to have to give me half of his 401k and pension. I know he’s not eager to hand over any money but the reality is he’ll be able to easily make up for that money he’s had to pay out. He can replace it in about 5 years. I will never be able to replace what I’m losing financially.

He will have to pay child support. He may end up paying spousal support. There is a really good possibility that the amount of support he has to pay out, regardless of how much it may piss him off, still won’t bring my lifestyle anywhere close to his. Combined and accounting for child support I think they live on about $12k a month. If he has to pay me $2000/month for both child and spousal support he’s still living on what we used to and I’m living on a third- and that’s only while he’s paying child support for both kids.

So I do my best to not think about those things. I absolutely do my best to try not to think about the lavish lifestyle he’s living and the fact that his income has actually gone up. I do my best to concentrate on the things that are going well in my life and to not dwell on the fact that his life is not falling apart. I try my best to think about the positives. I do my best to concentrate on me and making my life good and I try like hell not to think about everything that cousinfucking piece of shit is getting away with.

You know what? Some days I fail. Some days I rage against the injustice. Some days I find it hard to have faith in myself and believe that I will one day rise out of all of this bullshit and be successful on my own. Some days I find it difficult to believe that I will ever be in a position where I can not only pay my bills but also move out into my own place and still have enough money to help my kids out and go on vacations and go out to dinner and the movies and to buy gifts. There are many days when it is difficult to believe that this, this right here and now, is not how it’s always going to be. I have a really tough time looking into the future and believing that things are going to be so much better.

Does that mean I’m angry and bitter? No, it means I’m trying to be happy with the little that I have. It means that sometimes I get these little surges of hope that I will be able to do great things and lead a great life, one that is even greater than if I remained married to Cousinfucker.

A Brief Interruption

Pardon the interruption. I’ve got that whole five part series on my response to some comments going on. Truthfully, I’m having a hard time articulating the third part of my, “Am I Truly Happy?” post and I really don’t want to post Parts 1 & 2 until the third part is done.

I’ve also been a little busy. I apologize for the infrequency of my posts anymore. I used to be very consistent. A post a day, or a post almost every day. Now I’m good if I have a three or four day run. Honestly, I spend a lot of time talking to the mobster. I spend a good 8-9 hours at work Monday-Friday. I’m taking Picasso to school in the mornings because Rock Star is taking CTE classes for nursing at the high school right up the road from us in the morning. She returns to her regular high school around 10 am so that leaves Picasso with the option of a bus that arrives at 6:45 am and takes almost an hour to get him to his school, or me taking him.

I figured since I gave her a ride I could do the same for my son.

I don’t remember if I mentioned it or not but Rock Star is one of the captains on the cheerleading team. They just had Senior Night so I got to walk my daughter across the field before the game.

She was a little sad because her bio was so short. She couldn’t list her accomplishments at her previous high school so she only had what she did last year. But aside from that she was pretty happy. The senior cheerleaders all got to wear cute little tiaras and sashes and the rest of the cheerleaders had a little pom pom bridge for us to go under. It was cute and I very much enjoyed being able to be there with her. She asked my mom if she wanted to walk with her as well and then the day of, her cousin, Queen B, showed up and she said she could walk with us as well. So she had three strong, beautiful, confident women walking across the field with her. She wasn’t alone.

There was a bit of drama surrounding that and I was freaking out. Basically, my job as a float means that I can be called in last minute to close for someone. I had originally asked her if there were any dates she needed me to take off and was told no. When she told me about Senior Night I was a little nervous, hoping I didn’t get scheduled to work somewhere until 7:15. I calmed down once I realized I already had my schedule and I was working until 5:15. Yes!

No! I get a text the day before letting me know that I was going to have to close. Since it was a Friday I would be there until 6:15. Shit! The text Rock Star had forwarded to me said that parents were to meet by 6:30 and she told me they were walking out at 6:40. Shit! Shit!

I was bummed. It was going to be very tight and I didn’t want this to turn into another Prom Night where I missed everything. She couldn’t come see me beforehand this time.

The mobster told me to text my boss back and tell her I couldn’t do it. I told him that wasn’t a possibility; this was part of my job. He thought I was crazy and asked me what I had to lose?

The following morning I have my clothes in my bag, make-up in my purse, ready to roll. I knew who I was closing with and was prepared to tell her we needed to hustle that night. As I walked in my manager asked me if I had received her text. I told her that I had and then told her I was going to be hustling to get out of there because it was Senior Night and I was supposed to walk my daughter across the field. She was like, “Oh no!” and preceded to tell me I was closing with C and she was really good. A minute or two later she tells me, “I can see if B will close. He doesn’t come in until 1. He’s got a short day today.” Hallelujah!

B agreed to close for me and I even got to shut down 5 minutes early. I left to go to the game by 6 and was there with 10-15 minutes to spare! I’m sure Rock Star couldn’t believe it because I am notoriously late for everything.

I later texted the mobster and told him he was the smartest man alive. My mood lifted considerably once I knew I was going to be able to make it to walk with Rock Star. She would have been devastated if I was a no show, no matter the cause. Honestly? I didn’t even tell her that I was scheduled to close.

Speaking of cheerleading, she received an email from the competitive cheer team that is close by. Her high school does cheer camps with them in the summer so that’s how they came to know her. They had asked her to join back in August and I really thought she was going to do it but at the last minute she decided not to. She wanted to do track in the spring and she said the spot they had open was for a back and she didn’t want to be a back. She likes to base. Fast forward to last week.

They once again send her an email letting her know there is a spot available for her and this time it’s for a base. Her high school cheer coach is good friends with the coaches and her son goes there. I think she’s been encouraging Rock Star to do it as well. Rock Star reluctantly went to a practice and watched. The up side was she got to hold the coach’s absolutely adorable Yorkie/Pomeranian mix. OMG! I need one of those little dogs!

Anyway, long story short she decided to do it. She’s now in competitive cheer as a freaking senior. It’s expensive but I figure that just pads my expenses when it comes time for spousal support. Plus, it gives her a better shot at making the cheerleading team when she goes to college.

Speaking of college… my baby got her first acceptance letter! Her dream school is back in XX state, 1500 miles away. I am so happy for her because this is what she wants so much. I’m not going to lie. It’s going to be tough not seeing her every day. I will only see her a few times a year- Thanksgiving, Christmas, Spring Break and summer. Like a friend of mine said, I’m more excited and focused on her future than I am on my own sadness.

That’s what we’re supposed to do as parents, right? Raise them up and then let them spread their wings and fly? I don’t think about it often but just now, writing that, I thought about how I should be celebrating this milestone with her father. We should be celebrating her accomplishments together. I’m fairly certain he would have shown up for that at least.

Then I quickly think, “Nothing to mourn really. He wasn’t there that much. I raised these kids on my own. He financially supported us but that’s about all.” And then I think to June when she graduates and the fact that it won’t be her dad there, but the mobster. Because he’s awesome like that.

In a similar vein, had our trial not been delayed I would be getting a divorce in two days. If my lawyer hadn’t had to ask for a continuance I’d be long divorced by now. Well, okay, I would have been divorced for a few months now.

My mom is off to spend a few weeks with friends. It’s just me, the kids, and the dogs now. I’m sure she’ll have a great time.

Speaking of my mother, she was engaged in a pissing match with some very nice band booster parents from another local high school. She was outraged, outraged I tell you, at the idea of having to pay two whole dollars for parking in the lots closest to the school! I thought she was going to call them cocksuckers to their faces!

“I’ve never heard of such a thing as paying to park at a high school game!”

“Mom!”

“Well, I haven’t! This is outrageous! Damn #### people. Think they’re better than all of us!”

“Mother!” Turning to the booster club parent. “I am so sorry!”

“I’m just saying….”

“Don’t you even say it!”

As we drive away….

“Cocksuckers!”

 

More Signs From the Universe That I Conveniently Ignored

May 2015

The whore’s newest picture (picture removed for now). Longer and darker.  Looks like I’ll continue to go short and blonde. I have to say I have been very surprised that my in-laws have not commented on or liked the picture.  Perhaps letting my MIL know she was sending naked pictures to Zack had something to do with that.

In other news it appears she’s now friends with Zack’s niece.  Oh, I just love seeing her gush over the new baby.  So, so glad we’re so entwined.  Even better I love the fact that Zack and I are sending money to pay her rent for 2 months while the whore does nothing.  If you love them so much why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and actually do something, Harley?

I am never going to get away from her, am I?  She’s everywhere.  My MIL thinks she can sympathize with what I’m going through because of what she went through, but the OW in her case didn’t hang around her family.  That’s the huge difference.  I’ve got everyone that we see when we go to Kentucky thinking she’s just the greatest thing ever.  People come into my home and then turn around and compliment that bitch.  And here’s the thing.  If they really think she’s that great and that what she did wasn’t that bad, then how can any of them say they’re rooting for me and Zack?  If she’s that wonderful, if they love her and think she’s fantastic, isn’t that just basically saying, “You know, Sam, we wouldn’t really be all that upset if Zack dumped you for Harley because we just love her so much.  She’s fantastic.  So losing you wouldn’t be a problem because we would gain our beloved Harley.”

Yes, I know I could bury my head in the sand and pretend she doesn’t exist. But you know my policy on that.  Just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not happening.  I mean, if someone let a snake loose in my house even if I couldn’t see it I still wouldn’t feel comfortable until it was caught and removed.  I would never feel comfortable.  I’d always be wondering if I opened a cabinet or stepped down onto the floor if the snake would be there.  That’s just a fact.  I’d be a nervous wreck.  Blocking her on FB is like having an unseen snake roaming my house.  I’d rather know.  I’d rather see what was going on and be prepared.

In my defense, I do not stalk her page often.  I do sometimes wonder if it were someone different, someone everyone on Zack’s side of the family didn’t communicate with, if I wouldn’t stalk her page at all.  I kinda think I wouldn’t. I would have no need to.

The way I see it, Zack and I as a couple are fine.  I don’t think about her much in terms of what she almost did to our marriage.  Yes, I am still haunted a bit by the whole:  I know I don’t want to lose my kids and him telling Jezebel that Harley made him happy.  It bothers me because he does seem so miserable now and didn’t back then. Oh, logically I know it all has to do with the whole fantasy vs. reality thing.  She was new and exciting and promising to fulfill his every need.  It was all fantasy and no reality so she was the perfect woman, doing everything that needed to be done.  I get that.  It still bugs me at times.  Probably because he never sees the need to point that out to his sister when he talks to her and she talks to him and tells him how miserable he is.

And I can sometimes rationalize the FB thing by telling myself it’s no big deal; it doesn’t mean anything.  I’ve got “friends” that I rarely communicate with on FB. I have also been known to accept a friend request from someone I don’t know all that well. So, perhaps that is what has happened here with his niece.  It still bugs me, though.  I’m tired of seeing her wherever I look.  Funny how this becomes my cross to bear when I’m not the one who cheated!

Present Day Sam Says: Oh yeah, I think they were definitely fooling around at this point. He always said he loved my hair when it was longer and darker. I remember this picture of the whore. Someone commented on her weight loss, too. Another sign of an affair. Sign #3? Friending CF’s niece on Facebook. This was Pastor Fake’s granddaughter. Absolutely no reason for Harley to have any contact with her. In fact, she hadn’t up until this point.

I truly believe Harley is one of the most manipulative, fake phony people out there. She and Jezebel will get along wonderfully.

Oh, and this part?  <<<… here’s the thing.  If they really think she’s that great and that what she did wasn’t that bad, then how can any of them say they’re rooting for me and Zack?  If she’s that wonderful, if they love her and think she’s fantastic, isn’t that just basically saying, “You know, Sam, we wouldn’t really be all that upset if Zack dumped you for Harley because we just love her so much.  She’s fantastic.  So losing you wouldn’t be a problem because we would gain our beloved Harley.”>>> That was absolutely dead on accurate.

You cannot continue to interact with the whore and honestly say you are rooting for reconciliation between the married couple. They obviously didn’t think that what she, or he, had done was that bad and they obviously were rooting for the two of them to get together.