Apparently my dumbass didn’t go to work yesterday either. Now I’m beginning to wonder if he brought the whore up to our current state with him for these four days and he’s leaving the car with her. I don’t know why he would since she doesn’t know her way around. Kind of bizarre to think she’d drive him to work and then take the car on home. It’s tempting to have someone go ring the doorbell and see if he answers the door or if she does. Anyway….
I’ve decided to do my 2015 wrap up today instead of waiting until tomorrow.
As you might imagine 2015 has SUCKED! I am seriously wracking my brain to think of a year that has sucked more than this one. I think my senior year of high school might be a close second but that actually occurred over two years. And I was a hell of a lot younger and able to absorb the blows.
So let’s start at the beginning. 2015 began with my loving husband starting his downward spiral. Lots of drinking. Lots of crying. Lots of “PTSD” symptoms. Thank you, American Sniper. You gave him a narrative. He ended up hospitalized towards the end of the month due to some sort of a bug. That was the infamous, “She was making fun of me when I was DYING!” episode, despite the fact that I had never done any such thing and had instead sat by his side and kissed his ass as usual. Apparently I didn’t grovel well enough.
The following month he ramped up the crazy, with lots of texts to his manipulative sister and probably his jackass “best friend”, frequent visits from the pastor of a church we had attended ONE time, still much drinking and crying, and then SURPRISE!!!! let’s add in a visit to the psych ward after suicidal ideations. I got to spend HOURS in an empty ER room with him (because they remove EVERYTHING from the room when a person is suicidal) while trying to coordinate care of my two kids who were at school at this time. Then I would drive to the hospital every day for the two hours of visitation that were allowed each day. I brought him magazines and books and gum; I advocated for him. I called him each day. MY family all came to visit while his family (with the exception of one sister) all called him from the comfort of their own homes. Incidentally, his family all live a minimum of 4 hours closer to us than my family does. My mother drove 13 hours to come see him- at his request! Why? Because my family was more of a family to him than his own. Of course it was, asshole; that’s why when Harley reappeared you turned to your own morally bankrupt family.
He came home and there weren’t many changes made. He continued to hang out upstairs in the bedroom. Refused to hang out with us in any of the main areas of the house. Hell, I can recall asking him if he wanted to sit out on the enclosed porch with me and he shook his head, telling me he felt more comfortable upstairs in the bedroom.
March and April there was more of the same. The migraines started back up again in late March/early April. That’s a fun 2 week period where he’s basically bed ridden with a succession of migraines. I’m taking him to the doctor’s for medication, trying to keep everything quiet and calm for him so he can sleep. Once those are finally done he continues to have breakdowns. Like, need to leave the restaurant, crying in public, breakdowns. All of which his kids think he faked for sympathy and to justify why he did what he ended up doing.
His best friend showed up in April. I think this is probably the time my dear, traitorous MIL encouraged Harley to call and offer him a blow job. Oh, I’m sorry- encouraged her to call him to “cheer him up” since he was “so sad”.
My own state of mind at this time was not good. I was still trying to adjust to this move. I cried a lot. Hell, I even taped messages for my friends and family to be played for them after my body was found. THAT’S how desperate I was at that point. I even said I thought he was messing around with her again. Of course, the money didn’t start disappearing until June but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t begin up again sooner. It may have taken him a few weeks before he decided to support his whore. I was beginning to give up on just about everything. I had written I was done with decorating and I was going to cancel the pool.
But I persevered, something Cousinfucker couldn’t do. I signed the contract; I kept decorating. I continued to deal with all the shit he shoveled my way, putting up with his moods, his anxiety, his breakdowns. I made his damn appointments for him and went along with him. I STILL found instances of him throwing me under the bus and it would infuriate me. Accusing me of only staying for the money. Of never checking on him. Of hating him. Of me leaving him alone to cry in the bedroom. Poor, poor sad sausage. Get your story out there, baby. Let everyone know how mistreated and abused you are.
May passed with construction on the pool finally beginning. Probably one of the few bright spots in the year. That’s also the month he brought up purchasing phones for his “mom and stepdad”. So generous of him.
Most of June the kids and I were gone visiting family and friends. He was definitely fucking around with Harley then. And lying to my face about what he was doing. He opted out of celebrating Rock Star’s birthday with her because “he didn’t want to ruin it for her”. Yeah, right. June was a fairly decent month for me, though. I was happy to see family and watch as Queen B graduated and be able to celebrate that with her. I was happy to get back to my former state and see all of our friends, go to some of our favorite places like the reservoir and the varied restaurants we no longer got to frequent. I stayed in pretty constant contact with my philandering asshole. I sent text messages. I occasionally called. I would send pictures if I went shopping and was going to buy something. Oh, he was so complimentary. Telling me I looked so good, so sexy. He’s such a liar.
We got back home right before July. Again, he opted out of the birthday dinner for Picasso. Nice. I seem to recall a lot of sex, or at least messing around, before he decided he just didn’t think he could ever get it up again and he didn’t want me to try because he didn’t want confirmation of it. Nicely done, Asshole! I’m still not sure Harley was on board with you messing around with me twice a day, though.
Of course, he declined to go on our family vacation with us. Too stressful. And then he drove to his “business meeting” after being coached by me and his therapist (fucking asshole- him, not the therapist) and onward to his home state where he definitely hooked up with Harley and fucked the whore. When we got back from Florida and he got back from Kentucky he had plainly changed. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. Then there was the added bonus that he suddenly began making trips, spreading his wings. There was the funeral he refused to take his daughter to. His trip to visit “Blockhead”. All lies. All continued while he spent the summer funneling thousands of dollars to that whore.
Finally, August arrives. The pool is completed. Six days later I’m told my husband is fucking Harley. My world imploded.
I’ve spent the rest of the year taking care of my two kids, putting together evidence for my lawyer, being the responsible one while he acts like he’s single and child free. I get the fun part of worrying about what the hell I’m going to do for money, what I’m going to do for insurance and how I’m going to afford it. I get to worry about selling the house and fixing it up. I get to worry about what I’m going to do with our 3 dogs and 3 cats. I’m the one that gets to worry about trying to relocate and keep Rock Star where she is and then move once she graduates. Basically, I get all the responsibilities and he gets to walk away and pretend like we never existed. He gets a fresh start with no obligations, only a shiny little whore spreading her legs wide with four whining kids, blandly worshiping him so that he’ll buy them things.
I’m eager to put 2015 behind me but I fear 2016 won’t be much better. My lawyer tells me he doesn’t think we’ll be done with the divorce until September or October, so most of the year will be spent trying to untangle our lives while not getting fucked up the ass by him. He pulled the wool over my lawyer’s eyes this go round. While he will be charged rent if he continues to live at the house it’s nothing compared to what he would have to pay once he’s out on his own. $750 flat. It’s doubtful he would be able to find that on his own. My family is taking bets on whether or not he will move out. My mom thinks he’s going to amp up his efforts to try to find a job closer to Harley. My lawyer had damn well better be accurate when he says he will have already established a level of income once this order goes into action. I would hate to see him quit his job before he gets this year’s bonus and then he gets out of paying me. Wouldn’t put it past him though.
You know, it gets tricky, though, because Harley is expecting a certain standard of living. If he quits his job and takes something that pays less that won’t bode well for his relationship with her. Same thing with going to jail. That will put a damper on the relationship.
Present Day Sam Says: Yeah, 2016 was no picnic either. I started off okay. Then I found out in February that CF quit his job and moved in with the whore. I still find it amazing that he drove 2 hours each way to work. I rebounded. And then got knocked down yet again when he texted me to let me know he had lost his job and wouldn’t be sending me anymore money. We were faced with the choice of trying to stay put and probably being evicted midway through Rock Star’s junior year, or biting the bullet and moving right then. I sold off whatever I could and left behind most of my possessions and moved 600 miles away, in with my mom. I ran out of money. I began working at Target, going in at 4 in the morning. A month later I got a second job at Kohl’s because my first job didn’t pay enough. I cried pretty much every day. My life was nothing more than working, sleeping and trying to get my kids where they needed to be. No joy. No hope.
The holidays sucked. Worst holiday season ever. I had to go in at midnight on Friday after Thanksgiving. I went in at 3 or 4 (probably 3) on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day was my first day off in 21 days.
My kids were forced to start all over. My son took to life in Indiana right away- had a great group of friends, liked his school (at least at first), liked living with his Nana. My daughter hated it here; I’m pretty sure she still does. The one bright spot in her life for months was her job. Gradually she spread her wings- first by getting on the winter cheer team, and then going out for track and loving it.
The one bright spot for me that year was getting hired on full time at the bank. It wasn’t going to pay me much but it was a full time job finally. I wouldn’t start until 2017 but I still counted it as one good thing that happened to me in 2016.
Now it’s almost 2 years later and things are a lot different. You’ll have to wait until later in the month before I finish my wrap up for 2017.