And…. the Bomb Detonates

August 2015

Two years later and I’m dealing with another fucking D-Day.  Just got a message from The Saint and he gave me his phone number.  We had a nice long talk.  I’m not sure how long it’s been going on but she went to the fucking funeral with him.  And there was a reunion last time he went and he saw her then.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do at this point.  I don’t want to ruin my kids’ lives yet again.  There’s no fucking way we can sell this house and get what we’ve put into it.  I’ve got 3 dogs and 3 cats and what the hell am I going to do with them? Oh, and not that it matters anymore but he texted me at 11:30 and said he had to turn around because he had keys in his briefcase so he left this morning.  Then he had an accident.  Good!  I wish he had fucking died!

 

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Bloody Hell

Pardon the pun. I have a sick sense of humor sometimes. After the crap I endured yesterday today I had the pleasure of having my period show up. Sonofabitch! I have one every other month or less and naturally mine shows up days before court. My uterus hurts, my back hurts, and my attitude is set to shitty. TMI ahead… Because I only have a period every other month or so (usually) they tend to be very heavy. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig, I’m running to the bathroom every two hours to avoid accidents, and I still ruin panties and pants. Wearing skirts or dresses is just asking for trouble. I absolutely hate it anymore.

In better news I have a property settlement agreement. More about that later. It’s not a great settlement but it will do, I suppose. Now on to litigate spousal and child support and legal fees. I’ll have to do a separate post soon about our expert witnesses. Hijinks have ensued.

Now it’s time for me to slink away and pout over my stupid misfortune to have started my stupid period a mere four stupid days before my stupid court hearing for my stupid divorce. If you couldn’t tell I am NOT happy about this.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!

August 2015

Texted him good morning around 11 and then that he would need to pick up Rock Star from cheerleading tomorrow.  He finally texted back around 3:30 so I asked him if he was on the road.  No, not yet.  I texted him around 5 to ask if he was on the road again or if he was just going to stay another day.  Haven’t heard back from him.

Then, since I’ve been keeping track of all our expenses I checked the account.  Another $228 to Wal-Mart.  In Whore Town.  Surely he can’t be that stupid, can he?  He said before he didn’t know why it would say Whore Town because she had bought stuff in a different city.

I hate this!  He won’t be home until at least 11. Probably later.  And I don’t give a shit how tired he is tomorrow.

Next fucking time he goes to his home state I’m trailing his ass down there.  I don’t care how I have to do it.  I’m sick of this.  I’m sick of being a basket case.  I’m sick of wondering why the hell his phone is tied to his side.  I’m sick of wondering if he’s going to leave me or if he no longer loves me.  He better not have brought me here only to turn around and leave me.

And it gets better.  Jezebel posted pictures of her and Zack, captioned a surprise visit from my brother.  Haven’t seen him in almost 2 years.  Not only does Harley like the pictures, but her sister says, “I seen him at the family reunion.  It had been years!  It was great to see him.  So glad you all got to get together.”  WHAT?  What fucking family reunion?  I’m hoping it was autocorrect and she meant she say it has been years.  It damn well better be.  I mean, I know his cousin died.  That’s not in dispute.  But I guess the funeral really could have taken place on Friday at 1 and then he could have gone to this family reunion.

 

The Final Days Before the Divorce

They are not going well. I just got another letter from my bank. This time the check was returned due to non sufficient funds. Grand total paid in child and spousal support this month? $1050. What was he supposed to pay? $3600. He is not even close.

Can I remind everyone again that according to his own affidavit he brings home $5800/month. According to the bank records produced the first time around (which would have been in the spring of 2016) the whore was bringing in $5000. $10,800 between the two of them and he can’t cover even half of his court ordered support. Oh, but he can afford to move into a new and bigger house. And I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find his bank records showing that they can afford to go out to eat, to pay for all kinds of things for her kids, to take trips…

Look, I have never claimed math is my strong suit but even I know that $10,800 is greater than $9700, which is what he brought home the last year we were together. I know that he’s no longer paying approximately $2500 in credit card payments, car payments, telephone bill for both kids and me, kids’ allowances, and a pool loan. According to my calculations that’s an increase of over $3500/month! So how is it that even though the two nitwits are living on more money than we had coming in and they’re paying out less in bills than we did, that he can’t afford to send his court ordered support?

In addition to that little bit of unwelcome news I was reviewing my lawyer’s worst case scenario. This must have completely slipped my mind because in a worst case scenario, if the judge goes strictly by what I make and what he makes, not what he was making, I will end up with a little over $2300/month in spousal and child support. It will go down to right around $2000 in seven months when Rock Star graduates from high school. And once Picasso graduates 3 years later I will be left with $1100 in spousal support. $1100 a month for wasting 20 years of my life with that asshole. $1100/month for uprooting my life and then later my kids’ lives whenever he wanted to take the next bigger, better job. $1100/month for raising our kids and putting my financial future in his hands.

My attorney seems to think we will prevail in our arguments and that the worst case scenario would actually be more like around $3000/month. It’s still a pittance compared to what I should be getting. It’s a slap in the face. Considering that even if I got the $3000/month he and the whore will be living on at least $7800 while the kids and I live on $4400, it’s just patently unfair. If he gets away with the unthinkable and only pays the $2000 we’ll live on $3400 while he and the whore live on $8800. That sucks even more!

I know I shouldn’t freak out before anything bad actually happens. I can’t help it. Every time I have felt hopeful I have been slapped back down to reality. Nothing in this damn divorce has gone my way. Cousinfucker and Harley seem to just skip blithely along, doing whatever they want, whenever they want to do it, and they suffer absolutely no consequences. So I’m doing my best to steel myself for a cheater heavy verdict.

I’ve got big plans for this upcoming weekend. I’d like to enjoy myself. I can’t do that if I walk into the courtroom expecting to win big and then end up leaving defeated, with that cousin fucking, child abandoning, cheating, lying sonofabitch winning and getting away with everything.

So, the countdown has begun and the worries and fears are following closely behind. I’m hoping the week goes by quickly and I am well prepared for court.

Finally, I broke a nail. Damn! Let’s just add that on to the list.

The Day Before D-Day

August 2015

No better today.  I ended up texting him around 8 last night.  Got no reply so I called.  He was napping.  He’s not planning on leaving until around 2 or 3 this afternoon.  I got to see pictures of him and Jezebel on FB.  Always good to know he’s hanging around her.  My mom is pissed since I told her he’s no longer seeing his psychologist and he went to His home state again.  I’m not very happy about it either.  I can’t stand confrontation but I’m not sure how else things will move forward.  How does he not see it’s wrong to stay holed up in the bedroom while he’s home, ignoring me and the kids, but he can drive to his home state for a funeral of a cousin he has barely spoken to in 20+ years?  He’s planning on driving to see Blockhead soon and then he’s going to his fucking reunion in October.

I’m tired of being portrayed as the bad guy.  I’m not the one who cheated.  I’m not the one who lied all summer long.  I’m not the one who hasn’t been around for years at a time.  I’m not the one encouraging people to leave their spouse.  So why the hell am I the one feeling like I have to fix everything?

I’m picking Rock Star up at noon and then I think I’m taking a pill to help calm my nerves.  I keep telling myself to breathe and to slow down.  He loves me.  He fears every day that I’m going to leave him.  He’s not having an affair.  You don’t have all the facts and you’re going off half cocked.  I’m just ready to die and the only thing that keeps me going is my kids.  I can’t do that to them.

 

Two Days Before D-Day

August 2015

It’s now 5:41 and I have yet to hear from my dear husband today.  I decided to wait it out and see if he would text me first.  I guess not.  I guess it completely slips his fucking mind that him being in his home state, a mere one hour away from HER might cause ME just a wee bit of anxiety.  Along with his staunch refusal to take either of the kids.  I think I’m going to take a pill tonight.  I just can’t function.  I’m on autopilot and thinking about crashing my car again.  Am I being totally ridiculous with wanting some contact?  I was looking at old texts from him, sent just a year ago and they are so damn different than what I get now.  Maybe it’s all the newness wearing off.  Maybe he was just missing me seeing as how we were apart.  But I miss it.  I miss what he turned into for that short amount of time.  And I’m getting pissed because he has done squat to keep in touch.  I keep telling myself that he wouldn’t cash in pretty much all of his stock on this swimming pool only to turn around and leave me.  I keep telling myself that I don’t know that Blockhead is telling him to divorce me.  I just don’t freaking know anything anymore.  He’s making me crazy and at least one of us needs to stay sane for these kids!

Present Day Sam Says:  He was probably too busy setting up his joint checking account with Harley to get back to me. Oh, and an hour away from her? No, she was there at the funeral with him. It’s date night, y’all! Complete with his mommy as chaperone and introducing her to everyone in his family!

Writing this right now makes me realize that everyone in his damn family knew that our marriage was over and that I was being replaced before I ever had a clue. Talk about humiliating.

 

Three Days Before D-Day

August 2015

… I’ve been texting with Zack.  The funeral was supposed to be today at 1.  He tells me today that the funeral was changed to tomorrow at 3.  Am I wrong in thinking he is really expecting a lot from me?  I mean, he goes to his home state alone.  He’s a mere 60 minutes from Harley.  He never seems to have great service when he’s there so texts don’t get answered right away and there’s not a whole lot of communication anyway.  A fucking funeral gets moved to a completely different day and time and I’m expected to just go along with the flow and not question anything, not have any worries.

I think that’s what’s been bothering me.  Not only does he want to move on, focus on the future, not dwell on the past… but also I’m supposed to do the same.  I am not allowed to heal at my own pace without making him feel bad.  I see so many blogs where the men are apologizing months and months after D-Day.  They take their wife’s anger and understand they caused it.  They deal with their breakdowns and anxiety.  Zack has never wanted to face any of that.  He wants to pretend it never happened and that if we just focus on the future then none of that will happen.

It’s not my fault I get triggered by things.  It’s not my fault him being in his home state by himself causes me anxiety.  It’s about time he realizes that instead of expecting me to make the concessions.  I’m not the one that cheated!  I didn’t betray him and make plans to live my life with someone else.  I wasn’t telling some other man I loved him.  If he had ever done a smidgen of research on affair recovery he would have known triggers will always be present.  He would have known it generally takes between 18 and 24 months to fully recover.  Instead he wanted it over and done with pretty much after he confessed.

Anyway, I don’t know if it’s the Prozac kicking in after a mere 3 or 4 days or what but I’ve been keeping the anxiety at bay.  I’ve got diarrhea like a crazy woman so maybe it’s manifesting itself that way.  Pleasant.  Can’t take the Visteral until after 8 because I have to pick up Rock Star…

I’ve been keeping track of the money I’m spending because for the life of me I can’t figure out why the hell we don’t have a ton of money left over each pay period!  Well, I know for the month of June it was because we were on vacation and eating out all the time.  And last pay period it was because we were in Florida and again, eating out and going shopping.  But even this pay period I wouldn’t have stayed within limits if not for the fact that we didn’t need to pay for trash, Am Ex, or the bank credit card.  Of course, I also went back to school shopping today because it is the tax free weekend and ended up spending almost $500.  Plus I had Rock Star’s cheerleading fees to pay plus a sweatshirt to buy.  The check to Mom for the water park came through and that was $90…  Picasso got assigned to be in band instead of getting art and home ec as his electives so he may not be signing up for cello lessons after all.  Who knows, maybe he’ll really enjoy band.  I’ve got fees to pay on the 14th but even for the 2 of them I don’t think it will even cost $100.  I do still need to buy food for the rest of the pay period…

Present Day Sam Says: A change in funeral plans? Come on, Sam! How dumb are you?

Okay, I will admit I was suspicious, but he was so convincing. He insisted that he was told the time was going to be Friday and he must have misunderstood.

Did anybody catch the Prozac reference? The man lies and says I was mentally abusive and manipulative and I ended up on fucking Prozac before this was all over and done with! I stopped taking it almost immediately when he tried to insinuate that “my depression was deepening”.

I wasn’t depressed, you asshole! You were driving me fucking crazy!