Once upon a time I began a blog and told the world about the cousin fucking, shit eating chimp I was married to. I have told many stories about him, his family, and all that he has put me through.
One night not long ago I was talking to the mobster, regaling him with stories of my former dysfunctional marriage when he asked, “Did you write about this story somewhere?” Well, no; I had not. There are just so many potential stories from which to choose and this one has somehow been left behind. Until now.
I have been pretty upfront that the entire move from Utah to Virginia was brutal. I had the toughest time I’ve ever had adjusting. I was very active in PTA back in Utah. I came out to Virginia and all the spots on the middle school board were filled; they met every other month and I never attended a single meeting. The high school didn’t even have a PTA. I had hoped to get involved with the booster club but CF put an end to that when he decided to leave me to go fuck his cousin. I couldn’t find any place to volunteer. I didn’t have many friends, and almost all of the few friends I had worked. I was unhappy; I was bored. I missed my friends. Shockingly, I refrained from having an affair, which apparently is what you do when you’re unhappy.
It was also made more difficult with the knowledge that this move was set into motion because of the whore. Once he began messing around with her he put the bug in someone high up’s ear, and that’s how we came to move 2000 miles across the country.
However, upon finding out we would be moving to Virginia my mom made the comment that she loved Virginia; she could live there. We looked at some homes with in-law apartments and guest houses.
CF also talked to my brother about bringing him onboard as a supervisor. For my brother this would be huge. He would be management. He and his wife talked about this potential move. She was on board.
With my brother considering a move my mom was definitely going to move. There would be no reason to stay if my brother and his family left the area. My mom started going through her things and getting rid of some of her stuff in anticipation of a move.
Everyone in my family began looking at houses and figuring out what they would need to do to sell their current homes. I began to get hopeful that this would really happen and I could have my mom, my brother, my sister-in-law, and my niece and nephew all living nearby.
Then CF started back pedaling. Suddenly, he couldn’t just hire my brother in. His company had to post all openings and they had to keep records of who all they had interviewed for jobs. My brother would have to be hired in as an hourly employee. There was no guarantee he would rise to management, and that’s not what CF had talked about anyway. He had talked about bringing him onboard as management. Repeatedly. He told him how he needed someone like him as a supervisor.
My guess is this happened right around the same time good ol’ Blockhead shared my blog with him.
Naturally my brother was no longer willing to move under those conditions. It’s one thing to quit your job and sell your house when you’ve got a guaranteed job with advancement in your future. It’s quite another to do all of that when all you’re promised is a shot at being an hourly worker.
With my brother and his family no longer relocating my mom also pulled the plug on her move. I was devastated. The possibility of having my family around me was the only thing that made living there bearable, and once that was taken away I felt a sense of hopelessness. I figured I would live there in misery forever.
I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than what he did to me while in the psych ward for that week.
The first day he was there and I was able to visit he told me he could see my Mamaw.
Now first you have to realize that I can’t even put into words how much I loved my Mamaw. She was my favorite person. She loved me completely; I could do almost no wrong in her eyes.
She also didn’t tend to like many people, especially of the male persuasion. I don’t think she ever liked any of my mom’s husbands. But oh she loved CF. I think it was the West Point pedigree. Or maybe it was simply because I had chosen him.
He was always kind to her. I think he got a perverse pleasure out of the fact that she didn’t like many men but she liked him and had given him her seal of approval. When she would stay with us he would kiss her on her forehead goodnight. She seemed to really like that.
Fast forward to February of 2015. My Mamaw had been gone for almost 8 years. CF hadn’t bothered to go with me to her funeral. Didn’t even have his company send flowers. I drove 30 hours with two small kids, ages 4 and 6, to get to her bedside before she died. The A/C that had just been repaired went out in my van because the mechanic hadn’t tightened the damn fan belt so we spent 18 hours driving in a car with no air conditioning. I drove from 6 in the morning until midnight to get to my in-law’s house so that I could get my belt replaced the next day.
Nevertheless, that day came in February and CF told me that along with watching movies that were projected on to the wall in his room, he could see Mamaw. She was asking him to kiss her forehead.
At the time I was all sympathetic and understanding. “CF, you have to tell the doctors you are hallucinating!” In fact, it was me that brought it up to them. There I was, his staunch ally, advocating for him, forgiving him, reassuring him that I would always be there.
Today I say, “What a sick fuck! Using my Mamaw like that. How can you possibly go any lower?”
Sadly, while that memory pains me deeply because he did use someone I loved so dearly, the fact remains that she was dead. His actions didn’t hurt her. Only me, the living. What he did to the rest of my family was appalling.
He nearly orchestrated the upheaval of all of their lives, only to skip out of the state! He messed with my brother’s hopes and his future.
And that’s not even mentioning how my family rallied around him when he was in the psych ward. He pitifully asked me if I would ask my mom to come see him the day he was being admitted. She dropped everything and drove 13 hours from Florida. My brother took comp time and left work at 4 am and drove the 10 hours to see him. That Saturday I couldn’t visit him because Rock Star had a meet out of state so my brother spent the entire two hours with him and even brought him a meal so he didn’t have to eat hospital food another day.
He told me that my family was his only real family because his own family didn’t care anything about him. He even wrote that on one of the worksheets he was given in the psych ward. It was his list of goals and one of those goals was to spend more time with family. He wrote, “My wife’s family because that is my only real family.”
Sadly, he had one sister who came to visit after he got home from the hospital, but neither Jezebel nor Tammy Faye bothered to visit. Yet this is who he lists as his support system. They are why he can’t leave Kentucky. He relies on them. Yeah, right.
I should have known back then. I already knew Blockhead had been feeding him bits and pieces from my Facebook page. Then right before he was set to come home he had a bad reaction to his new medication. He had hallucinations and ended up staying an extra day at the hospital.
When we went to visit him he was able to tell us in detail everything that happened. Now, my mom doesn’t believe he really had any kind of hallucinations but I’ve known of at least two people who had a bad reaction to Robitussin. They had hallucinations and they could recall what happened during that time. The real point of this story isn’t whether he was faking or not. It’s the fact that in his hallucinations I was the bad guy. I flashed him when he was locked up. I was jumping up and down on his car, and ultimately shit in it because, “it’s a piece of shit car so there!” Oh, it doesn’t stop there. I also smuggled liquor into his room to set him up so they would hold him longer. I believe his exact words were, “That bitch set me up!” It was once he tried to hide the liquor bottle and discovered it wasn’t real that he started to come back down to reality. That apparently led to him thinking that if that wasn’t real then maybe everything else he had been experiencing wasn’t real.
Folks, again I remind you that I was at the hospital every day for the entire length of his visiting hours. While I did refuse to smuggle Kodiak into him I did run out and buy him gum, magazines, books, crossword puzzles and anything else I could think of that would alleviate his boredom. I called him every day. I was the one that sat with him for hours while they were trying to admit him. Yet I was the villain.
No, I might have been stupid but I wasn’t a villain. That would be the person who promised my brother a job and then backpedaled. That would be the person who used my Mamaw to get sympathy from me. That would be the person who lied, cheated and gaslighted for months and months. That would be him.