Just Wondering

I wrote a post almost three years ago entitled, “It’s a Partner Problem.” Basically, your partner cheats, you have a partner problem. I stand by that. As I said in that post, if your partner propositions ten different women and they all turn him down, you still have a problem. You’re with a guy who wants to cheat on you and eventually he’s going to find someone that is willing. It’s not on the other woman to keep your husband faithful. It’s on your husband. Switch genders as needed. Way too many people put all the responsibility on the affair accomplice and none on their own timid forest creature.

BUT, and this is a big one, that doesn’t mean I think the affair accomplice is an innocent angel. There are people out there who target married men. I think this is definitely more a woman thing because they want the lifestyle the man can provide. I don’t believe for a moment that the majority of affair partners have no idea the person is married. Yes, I believe it happens, but I don’t think that is the norm. And if they do know he’s married, they’re culpable. It’s unfortunate that so many people can’t understand how you can be upset with more than one person.

With all of that in mind I can say it really irks me when someone comes along and insists that the affair all falls on your spouse/partner and you shouldn’t blame the affair accomplice at all. They didn’t make vows. They don’t owe you anything. Yada, yada, yada.

Bullshit! Fucking a person you know is married is wrong. You’re culpable for that choice when you choose to do it. You are deliberately helping to destroy a person’s life. You are deliberately interfering in someone’s marriage. You are often times profiting off of all of the previous person’s work and/or support. You are damaging children.

Here’s what I’m wondering though. These people who say the other person owes us nothing… the ones who say we need to hold our partners accountable… I’ve got a question for them.

Let’s say someone propositions the mobster. Let’s take it a step further and say she knows I exist. Maybe we’ve even met. But this man stealing whore is going to go after him anyway. She tells him he’s so sexy, so charming, so funny, so handsome. She tells him she’s been pining after him. Maybe she even sells him a sob story about her own horrible marriage or relationship. She wants him bad! Only sex with him will make her happy. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! Stick with me here.

Now let’s say the mobster does what he should and he tells her to get the fuck away from him, that he is totally devoted to me, and she repulses him. He makes it extremely clear he wants nothing to do with her and that it will never happen between them. I’m not sure if he’s supposed to tell me what happened or not but for the sake of this story let’s say he’s supposed to and he does.

Are those idiots really telling me that I have no reason to be upset with the woman who tried to seduce my boyfriend? Like, she wasn’t successful so move along? No harm, no foul? I don’t think so! Bitch was trying to put her hands on something that wasn’t hers.

Would their position in that case be I was right in being upset? Or are we right back to no harm, no foul? Cause I’ve gotta say it’s more than a little fucked up that when she tries to sleep with my partner and “steal him” away but is unsuccessful I’m free to be upset with her, but if she does sleep with him and he does leave me I’m supposed to shrug it off and only be upset with him. Because again, you can only be upset with one person.

Again, I think it’s ridiculous when the affair accomplice is held entirely responsible for everything. No, your partner chose to cheat. They chose to lie and gas light and deceive and steal and destroy you. The affair accomplice chose to help. And therein lies the rub.

If I mastermind a robbery or a murder I’m still culpable. Charles Manson spent the rest of his life in prison because of what other people did for him. He didn’t kill a damn soul. If my ex-husband hires a hitman to kill me they’re both going to go to jail. The hitman doesn’t get to say, “I made no vows. I didn’t promise her anything.” And Jerry Lee doesn’t get to say, “Hey, I didn’t pull the trigger.” Doesn’t matter. They were both involved. If my friend talks me into driving the getaway car while she runs in and robs a liquor store, I go to jail, too, and God forbid she shoots and kills somebody during that robbery. I’m on trial for murder now! Doesn’t matter that I wasn’t in the store. I was an accomplice.

That’s exactly what an affair partner is- an accomplice. Affairs are a two person crime. Sometimes more. But when they know you exist, they know your children exist, and they still take up with your spouse or partner, then they are an accomplice and you can be as pissed off at them as you wish. Just don’t let your lying, cheating piece of shit ex off the hook.

Meeting the Other Woman/New Girlfriend, Court Orders & Timed Introductions

I see this a lot on various sites. Mom wants to meet with the other woman or new girlfriend (and it could honestly be a new girlfriend- affair accomplice is gone and here’s the replacement). People say, “Don’t bother. Nothing good can come of it!” and she insists while being supported by others who say, “You go, girl! I’d want to know who was around my children, too.”

I will preface this with the acknowledgment that Rock Star and Picasso were 15 and 13 when their dad and I split up. I was not dealing with babies or toddlers or even young elementary aged children. I had teenagers. I further acknowledge my children have never met Harley. They have never been in her presence. They have never spent a single overnight with their father. So I am going to run my mouth about something which I’ve never had to deal.

I don’t understand this need to meet the woman. Either she’s the affair accomplice and she’s a piece of shit that does not give two fucks about you, your feelings, or your kids, or she’s a new woman who had no part in your family disintegrating. If she’s the first one meeting her isn’t going to do a damn thing.

There was a woman on one of the pages I follow who insisted upon meeting with the OW. People told her it was not a good idea and yet she insisted. She wanted to make sure the OW knew her place and that she (the OP) was the mom. She told everyone she thought the OW was intimidated by her and this talk was going to be a piece of cake. She was going to set the rules and the OW would follow them.

Wrong. The fact that this woman is perfectly willing to fuck a married man should tell you she has no respect for boundaries. The meeting did not go well and the mom left the meeting feeling terrible. The OW spoke down to her, was not intimidated at all, let her know that mom was not calling all the shots, and has taken every opportunity since then to insert herself in the parenting relationship.

She would have been far better off simply ignoring this person. Life was not chaos before they had their little tete a tete. Now it is. And the worst part of all is that Mom has no recourse. Dad has every right to have whomever he chooses around his kids, absent a court order.

It is a side effect of divorce that you do not have complete control over what your children are exposed to. If this person is not a danger to your child there is nothing you can do. In fact, I’ve heard of instances where mom’s boyfriend just got out of prison and she was planning on moving him in with her and her three children. Perfectly legal. Dad could do nothing. I’ve heard of instances where Dad is living with a convicted child sex offender but there is nothing preventing her from being around the young female child because the abused child was male and in his teens, and she had served her sentence. And yes, there are instances where a parent is able to ban the affair partner or the new girlfriend/boyfriend because of a history of drugs or child abuse or some other sort of criminal record, but unfortunately there are just as many stories where the parent is helpless. But we’re not talking about those cases. We’re talking run of the mill, law abiding citizens. Mom just wants to know who this person is because she wants to vet whoever is around her child.

I always want to know what exactly Mom (or Dad, but it’s usually Mom) is hoping to accomplish with this meeting. You meet her. You don’t like her. You don’t trust her. Now what? I mean, if judges are letting convicted felons move in with children they’re sure as hell not going to prevent dad’s newest girlfriend from being around your child because she likes to drink wine. Or she lets the kids watch more TV than you’re comfortable with or gives them sugary treats or goes to fast food restaurants to feed them instead of cooking a meal.

You meet her and you don’t like her, don’t like the way she parents, don’t like the things she does or likes? Too bad. Welcome to the sucky part of divorce. You might get really lucky and be able to communicate your hopes and wishes for your children (probably only if she’s a new girlfriend and not the OW) but you have no authority to tell her what to do. So what have you accomplished aside from showing her your weak spots and giving her the upper hand if she is inclined to take it?

So many people urge the parent to put language in their court order about not introducing new partners for six to twelve months, or not allowing sleep overs. Some even encourage putting it in the court order that the affair accomplice is not allowed to be around the children at all. Again I ask, to what end?

First of all, you are not likely to get it ordered that the other woman or other man is not allowed to be around your children. I’m not saying it never happens but those are generally special circumstances. It is a rare happening.

Secondly, cheaters lie. They break rules. Sure, put it in there that he can’t introduce Skankella to your kids for six months and he’s not allowed to have her spend the night when the kids are there. And then when he turns around and introduces them the very first weekend he has them and she spends the night what are you going to do?

“You can take him back for contempt of court!” they shout gleefully. “It’s a legal document and he’s in contempt if he goes against it.”

Okay, sure. He’s in contempt. As a person who actually had to take my ex back to court- twice- for contempt I can tell you it cost me approximately five thousand dollars each time I had to do that. My lawyer was fairly cheap as lawyers go, too. I only paid $250 an hour. Some people have those $300 and $500 an hour lawyers. I’m sure there are those who have even more expensive lawyers. Good for them. They’re going to pay even more than I did.

I was also taking him back to court because he either wasn’t paying support at all (first contempt hearing) or he was in arrears (second contempt hearing), which means I actually got money from taking him back to court. I could use that money to help pay my legal bill.

How much money do you have to take him back to court every time he pisses you off? Do you really want to spend five grand because he introduced the other woman to your kids before he was supposed to? Are you going to take him back to court because the girlfriend or affair accomplice slept over when your kids were there? And if you are sitting here saying, “Abso-fucking-lutely!” then let me ask you what exactly you think the judge is going to do in this case? The cat’s already out of the bag. He can’t un-introduce them. He can’t rewind time and have her sleep chastely in her own bed. At most your ex will get a slap on the wrist. If that. You really want to pay five grand for that? Do you think that’s going to stop him? What do you think a judge is going to do? Terminate his parental rights? Give you 100% custody? Order supervised visitation? Make him pay a hefty fine?

I think it stands to reason that if judges don’t give a shit about adultery then they’re not going to care about your ex-husband introducing a new woman to the kids sooner than you’d like. They’re not going to particularly care about him sleeping with her now. That would be kind of ironic, don’t you think? The judge doesn’t care about adultery but they’re very concerned with premarital sex. Honestly, if that was the case I think adultery covers both of those. You can’t be committing adultery without having premarital sex.

I realize there might be some jurisdictions where the judges care more than others. I’m assuming those would be much more conservative jurisdictions. So yes, the judge might care and the judge might be highly irate that the ex did not follow his or her orders. However, we’re still back to, “How much money do you want to spend on this?”

The bottom line is this: As long as your child is not in danger drop the rope. You control yourself. You don’t control your ex. You couldn’t control him when you were married to him and you control him even less now that you’re divorced. Give yourself peace. Trying to micromanage his life and prevent this new woman from being around your children is not going to bring you peace. It will turn into one big, expensive headache.

Just Like Old Times

I don’t write about Jerry Lee much anymore. Truth be told there isn’t a lot to say lately and I don’t want my blog to dwell on him and his atrocities. I mean, if he does something especially stupid or heinous I’ll talk about it. Like when he wanted a ticket to Rock Star’s college graduation, or tells her how he’d love to walk her down the aisle. Aside from that though he’s not a popular topic on this blog. I’m concentrating on other things, like my life.

But today I just have to get this off my chest. I hate his fucking guts. I hate that he got to just blithely skip away from his old life. I hate that he got to pick up with his cousin/whore and her $5000/month take home pay. I hate the fact that she is able to simply get rid of any of her children that are difficult or don’t want to play happy family. And I hate that I hate that because I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to run away from my kids. I don’t want to abandon them and start all over with someone new. But I also hate that I’ve been left holding down the fort.

I’ve done it for so long it’s natural, like breathing. I don’t even think about it. I was the one who had to break the news to our kids that we were getting a divorce. I was the one left to answer their questions- questions I didn’t even have answers for. I was the one that had to do my best to convince them that no matter what happened we would be okay.

He moved out one day without saying a word and I was none the wiser until my alimony and child support wasn’t deposited into my account. I was the one who had to call around and ask his boss if he was still there. I was the one left having to admit to both kids that he had moved to another state.

I was the one who had to break the news that we had to move when he lost his damn job. He was fine. He had a whore to comfort and support him and he didn’t have to say a damn thing to the kids he left behind.

I am the one that knows that Rock Star had only recently found out she was going to be the gymnastics team captain and she had to give that up. I’m the one that knows she was destined to be in the high school’s Hall of Fame and that he fucked that up for her by forcing us to move. I’m the one that was there when it dawned on her that gymnastics was over for her.

I’m the one who knew Picasso was going to join marching band and that he had been receiving some very positive feedback from the camp he attended.

I was the one who had to tell Rock Star she couldn’t get her license and in fact, had to start over from scratch with a learner’s permit.

I was the one taking her to the local high school to get her signed up for classes in case her transfer didn’t go through. I’m the one who saw how disappointed she was at what she was going into. I’m the one that saw my happy, radiant, upbeat girl turn into a glum, withdrawn child. I’m the one who heard her say, “I used to be someone. Now I’m nobody.” I’m the one who held her while she cried.

I will never forgive him for taking her away from her school. Twenty fucking plus years I listened to him whine about being moved around all the time and never going to the same school twice until high school. What does he do to his daughter, his pride and joy? He cheats on her mother after moving us 2000 miles across the country, cuts us off financially, and then loses his fucking job he took to be closer to the whore, thereby forcing us to move and forcing his daughter to switch high schools midway through.

I will never forgive him for taking gymnastics away from her either.

I’ll never forgive him for essentially robbing both of us of her senior year and being able to go on multiple college visits. I was too damn poor during her junior and first part of her senior year. That left us with about 3 months for her to look around before needing to make a decision. We ended up going on two visits- one in Utah and one at Ball State.

I hate him for taking me away from my kids. I feel like I lost out on the end of their childhood because I was working.

Most of all I hate him for all the destruction he left behind for me to clean up. I’m the one paying for the therapy bills for both kids. Because he fucked with their heads just abandoning them one day. See ya! Only he didn’t even have the balls to say that much. I’m the one that paid Rock Star’s tuition or rent. He gave her the rest of the money she needed to buy a laptop her freshman year- around $400, I think. That was the extent of his contribution. I’m the one paying the psychiatrist bills for Picasso. I’m the one paying for the fucking insurance.

Did I mention my company has absolute shit insurance? I pay just over $200 each paycheck for my insurance alone. My family deductible is $6000. I never reach my deductible which means I always pay out of pocket for everything. Except most of my kids’ meds. Those are generally covered, or a large portion is covered for some reason. So because I have a huge deductible I also have $200 out of each paycheck deposited into my HSA account for medical and dental bills.

Why on earth my lawyer did not urge me to consider having him cover them I will never know. What I do know is while you’re going through a divorce you’re not supposed to make any changes to your insurance. Yes, he got fired so none of us were insured. But once he finally got a job he should have been insuring us. He didn’t and it fell to me- the person making all of $11.50 an hour at the time. Of course, I didn’t put $200 in my HSA at that time either. That started almost 2 years ago when all of the therapy started.

I was so close to essentially getting almost a $400 raise per month once Rock Star and Picasso were off of my insurance. Picasso has insurance through the union and Rock Star will have insurance through her job. Now? Who the hell knows?

Picasso is not doing well and it once again falls to me to take care of everything because Daddy Dearest can’t be bothered. He passed along these fucked up genes, and he’s the one that caused a cataclysmic upheaval in their lives. Where is he?

Oh, he’s off living his best fucking life in Georgia with the whore and the one child she has left.

Again, 99.9% of the time I just take care of it because what’s the other option? I can bitch about it but that won’t change anything. Jerry Lee doesn’t care. If it’s going to get done then I’ll need to do it. They need one sane parent and I’m it.

Picasso’s career in carpentry is not off to a stellar start. His first job was fantastic. Unfortunately he’s beginning to think that was an outlier. Also unfortunate was the fact that it only lasted maybe a month.

His second job was a nightmare. His boss was a complete ass. I’m not simply an overbearing mama who thinks her child is an angel. My brother, after hearing the stories Picasso finally told, started making phone calls to people he knew trying to find this guy. He was ready to kick his ass. This guy would call Picasso retarded. Literally would say that. He told him he should just quit, that he wasn’t cut out for this. He would tell other people, “You’ll need to tell this guy twice. He’s slow.” He was absolutely awful. Other people- journeymen even- have complained about this person to the union.

As you might imagine this took quite the toll on his already fragile mental health. At one point he was sitting on the couch and I noted that he looked absolutely miserable. He told me then he didn’t know what to do and he had nothing to live for. Basically he tries to tell himself that things are looking up but then they come crashing down again, and this asshole he was working for reinforced everything Picasso’s brain tells him- he’s worthless, he’s stupid, etc. He didn’t want to go on living. He thought that was the only way to stop the pain.

I was the one talking to my child. I was the one holding him and crying. I was the one begging him to hang on and assuring him that things would get better all while telling him that I would never, ever, ever get over him killing himself. I’ve always been the one. It all falls on me and sometimes it is exhausting.

It seems nothing helps. He never improves.

He was doing better once he was no longer at job #2. Two weeks later he takes his third job. That one was fine but it was very short-lived- 2 or 3 weeks. He found out at the beginning of this job he had enough hours to be an apprentice, moving up from a pre-apprentice.

Then he was out of work for about 6 weeks. Now he’s working at a steel mill. He had 2 okay days but they are now working 12 hour days, 7 days a week. And when I say 12 hours I really mean 12.5 hours because they have a half an hour for lunch. Did I mention he drives an hour to and from work? So he leaves at 6:15 in the morning and doesn’t get home until after 9:30 at night. On top of that everyone expects him to know what to do and they are already talking shit about him because he doesn’t. I don’t think they realize he’s been an apprentice for approximately 80 hours and those 80 hours were spent doing concrete.

I don’t think this job is going to work out. I’m not sure joining the union is going to work out for him. He got into it because he wanted to build stuff and he hasn’t had a single job like that. There’s been flooring, drywall, concrete, and now scaffolding.

His mental health is taking another nosedive and guess who is here for the fallout? That’s right! It’s me! Where is Daddy? Well, we’ve already determined he’s in Georgia living his best life with his new family.

Picasso’s insurance through the union kicked in in August. I still have him on mine because I’m afraid to take him off. I don’t know how much longer he will be employed. I don’t know if he’s going to stick with the union. If I take him off now I can put him back on, I believe, when our open enrollment comes around next month. Then he’ll only be without insurance for two months. Frankly, I would say, “Fuck the insurance,” but he meets with a therapist every other week and a psychiatrist once a month, plus he takes medications. The therapist and psychiatrist visit I could handle. The meds are much more expensive per month out of pocket than what I would pay for insurance.

He was also supposed to start paying for his phone and his car insurance starting in January. Now I’m not sure that any of that will happen.

The psychiatrist did order a cheek swab a few weeks ago. It’s supposed to help her better determine which medications will work better for him, based on his metabolism, or something like that. It has to do with how your body metabolizes medications. I do know that much.

Truthfully it’s hard to tell what all came first. Was Picasso always a time bomb waiting to explode? Or did Jerry Lee moving us across the country when Picasso was 12 start everything off? Would Picasso have had issues regardless, or did they stem from his father abandoning him when he was 13? Say what you will but I tend to think when he tells me his brain tells him he’s worthless and no one likes him that having your father walk out on you without saying a word kind of reinforces that message. Or maybe that act sent the original message and he’s never been able to disregard it. Maybe he would have had issues anyway, but if he had a father around, one who supposedly had gone through all of this himself, he would have had an easier path.

I’m tired. I’m tired of the therapy bills and the psychiatrist bills that keep adding up but never seem to do anything for him. I’m tired of wondering if my kid is ever going to be happy, or at least content. I’m tired of wondering if he will ever be self sufficient. I’m tired of being left to deal with all of this on my own. I’d like both of my kids to be off of my payroll in January or February of 2023, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. And I feel guilty for even expressing that. What kind of mother doesn’t want to take care of her kids forever? If anything ever happened to my son I know I would be saying I would pay a therapist every week if it brought him back to me. I would be begging for all of my old bills to haunt me once again if it meant he was here with me.

So I’m back to hating Jerry Lee. He left and left me to deal with cleaning up his entire mess. Oh, he did tell me he loved Picasso very much and offered to speak to his therapist and gave me the name of his latest medication which has seemingly helped him (Jerry Lee). Wow- so big of him. That was what- 30 seconds of giving a fuck about his son? I’ve spent hours listening to this kid talk about how he hates his life and how his mind is fucked up and he doesn’t believe he’ll ever be happy anymore. I’ve done the work to find a therapist, find a psychiatrist. I’ve spent thousands on insurance, and additional thousands on the therapist, psychiatrist, and meds. I’ve counseled him on questions to ask his psychiatrist. I’ve offered to sit in on a visit with him and his therapist, or even psychiatrist. I’ve even considered in-patient therapy.

Don’t even get me started on school. I hate his cousin fucking guts for leaving me to do battle with Picasso throughout his entire school career but especially his four years of high school. Every damn day was a battle it felt like. I wasn’t sure he was going to graduate and I was pretty sure I could not deal with another year of high school on his behalf. The kid didn’t take his fucking English final and had to have it unlocked by the teacher. “Whatever will be will be, Mom.” That was what I was dealing with while Jerry Lee was off in Georgia with his cousin.

I hate him for taking my daughter away from me, too. I have no doubt that if we were still living in Virginia she wouldn’t be living with her boyfriend. She’d be living at home. She’d look forward to coming home so she could see her high school friends. She had no friends up here for the most part. There was nothing for her. She was home for the summer after her freshman year and it was wonderful having her back. My mom and I both enjoyed our conversations we would have with her after she got off work. She was home for the summer after her sophomore year although this summer wasn’t nearly as wonderful. She spent long weekends down in Muncie with her boyfriend and/or her best friend from college, and if she wasn’t down there then one of them was up here. After that summer she moved into her apartment by herself. She didn’t need my help, although my mom and I came down a week or so later to bring the rest of her things. I had no idea that was the last time she would ever live with me.

He robbed me of my child. He chose to leave her. He chose to exit her life. I didn’t. I thought I would have at least 1 more summer, and when we realized she wouldn’t graduate in the spring because she applied later for nursing school I thought I might have 2 more summers with her. At one point she said she was going to work up here for at least 2 years so I was going to get 2 summers and 2 additional years!

Now she has a five year plan that sees her and her boyfriend buying the house they’re living in and staying in Muncie for 5 years.

Of course, that doesn’t affect Jerry Lee. Did I mention he lives in Georgia? I have? Oh, did I mention he hasn’t seen her since her high school graduation in 2018? Four years. He could drive down to see his cousin every weekend but he has been unable to drive up to see either of his children in years- 4 years for Rock Star and 6 years for Picasso.

I could go on and on about the myriad of reasons I hate Jerry Lee. I hate him for taking away my financial security. I hate that because of him I constantly worry about retirement and what that’s going to look like for me. I hate him for letting me put in a pool only for me to find out 6 days after it was filled that he was a cousin fucking cheater. I hate him for letting our house go into foreclosure, leaving me and our kids with nothing. I hate him for putting me in a situation where I had to leave everything behind. I hate him for not paying me for so long that my poor Beauregard suffered because I couldn’t take him to the vet sooner to find out he had cancer. I hate him for everything. But mostly I hate him for what he did to our kids and then leaving me to do all of the heavy work to try to clean up his mess.

I’ve got bad news for him, although he couldn’t care less. It will never be clean. These stains will last a life time.

Why Is It So Easy For Some People To “Get Over It”?, Part IV

Why is it so much easier for some to get over the cheater than it is for others? Define easy. Or at least easier.

I lost my home. I was forced out of the area my kids and I lived in. I lost almost everything I owned. I cried every day for a very long time. I wanted to die. I begged God to kill me and put me out of my misery. I believe at one point I said something to the effect of, “My life is over. Now I’m just waiting to die.”

When I worked as a teller in the branches I often thought that if we were robbed I wouldn’t even care if I got shot and killed. I’d volunteer to be the hostage. All those other people I worked with had something to live for; I was just waiting to die.

Whether I called Jerry Lee the love of my life or the bane of my existence my life did a 180 and I will never be the same again. I will never trust someone like I did before. I’d like to think I’ve worked on fixing my picker. I’d like to believe I got it right this time and that the mobster would never cheat on me. But then again, I never thought Jerry Lee would either. It’s not even that I think he will cheat, or that I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know what can happen and I feel that I would be remiss if I stuck my head in the sand and pretended like it could never happen again. And part of me feels that it’s so wrong to think like that because truly healing should mean being able to trust again. Completely trust again with no reservations.

I will never allow myself to rely on anyone ever again. I will never ever lose my home and everything in it if a man walks out on me again. I see all of these women quitting their jobs and becoming stay at home moms and I think to myself how wonderful it must be to be able to trust and rely upon another that way. The trust may not be warranted. We won’t know until much later. But the fact that they have that faith is something I will never have again. I know, and I cannot un-know, that if I depend on someone for my livelihood, my home, my car, my whatever, and I’m wrong about him and what a good person he is, then I will lose everything. Even if my divorce wasn’t as “tough” as someone else’s or my heart wasn’t broken as badly as another’s it damn near killed me and I will never go through that again.

I don’t look at the institution of marriage the same way. I think it’s mostly bullshit and not worth the piece of paper your marriage license is printed on.

I don’t look at in-law relationships the same as I once did. They’re people who are in your life and like you as long as you serve a purpose for their relative. You don’t have an authentic relationship with them. Once your partner is done with you those people you celebrated holidays with and bought gifts for and visited in the hospital and took vacations with won’t remember your name; even more hurtful is the fact that they will immediately slot the new woman (or man) into your place. You’ve now been erased.

I don’t think women should stay at home and take care of the babies while the men folk go off and establish six figure careers. Because you quickly find out 20 years later that when he leaves you for someone else he still has his six figure income and you get to struggle in poverty forever.

Sometimes I find it hard to believe in give and take relationships at all. Someone is always going to have to be willing to believe in someone else and trust that the person won’t screw them over eventually. How do relationships survive when each person is only out for themselves? I’m beginning to think that marriage is a hopelessly outdated institution, one that benefits men far more than it benefits women in most cases.

When you think about it that question, “Why do some people seem to get it over so much easier?” is actually quite insulting. I may not be crying and gnashing my teeth over losing the love of my life or my best friend but it does not mean my road was easy. It turns out I’m just a hell of a lot better at gray rock or no contact than others. No doubt it helped that he moved 6 hours away but even while living in the same house I wasn’t going to give him the time of day.

At the heart of it all I’m a practical person. No point in begging him to come back; I knew it wasn’t going to happen. We both knew there was no turning back. I had warned him back in 2013 that I would forgive him once but if it ever happened again I would divorce him and take him for everything I could. He knew that so the moment he said yes to Harley he knew what was going to happen. And I knew from conversations way back when that when he finally made a decision (usually about leaving a job) his mind was made up; he wouldn’t be swayed by more money or promises of whatever the person thought he might want. He knew he was going to have to leave everything we had just bought together behind. He knew he would lose his kids. He made a choice. Knowing full well that if he let her back into our lives it would mean the end of our marriage and the end of life for our kids as they knew it, he went full steam ahead. He chose her. Every. Single. Step. Of. The. Way.

“Why do some seem to get over it more easily than others?” is a ridiculous question. We don’t know what other people are going through. The only thing cheated on people have in common is that we were cheated on. Everyone likes to think we’re all in the same boat but we’re not. We can all certainly offer up support and assure the person new to this pain that it’s all going to get better, but we’re not all in the same boat. What may look like easier for one person might seem insurmountable for another.

My husband of 20 years was not much of a partner to me. We might have had a good 5 years but that was about it. I was used to going through life alone. I was used to raising children alone for the most part. While I wasn’t mourning the loss of him, wasn’t suffering withdrawals because I couldn’t be with him, wasn’t wondering how on earth I would ever be happy without him in my orbit, make no mistake, none of what I went through was “easier”.

I was very literally thrust into poverty after living in the top 3-4% of the socioeconomic population. I struggled to find work and then I worked so damn much just trying to keep my head above water that I would fall asleep sitting up and had no time with my kids. I worked shitty hours for shitty pay. It took me five years to finally find a job that paid me halfway decent.

I had to move my kids 600 miles away, tear their world apart once again, and move in with my mom. I sold, or left behind, almost everything I had ever owned. I had no bed, much less bedroom, to call my own. I slept on the couch for 2 years. To this day I don’t have a home of my own, and because Jerry Lee let our house go into foreclosure I don’t even have proceeds from the sale of my home with which to buy a new home. I’m starting over at zero. I have no furniture. I have very few household items.

I lost so much time with my two children. I was a good mom to those two. I know they both say I’m still a great mom but I know I’m not the same as I was. I took them everywhere- museums, amusement parks, skating rinks, caves, water parks, zoos, Presidential museums, Yellowstone. I tried my best to keep them busy and engaged. I signed them up for horseback riding lessons; we went white water rafting and took many hikes while living out in Utah. They were both involved in sports. I volunteered at their schools. I took them on road trips. Once I began working I could no longer do that. I feel like I was robbed of the last few years of their childhoods. I see pictures on Facebook of people I know busy with college trips for their kids. I didn’t get to do much of that with Rock Star. I didn’t have the money in the beginning and once I did we didn’t have long before she needed to make a decision. Two trips. That was it. I didn’t get to celebrate my daughter’s senior year of gymnastics. It was abruptly taken away when we moved to Indiana.

My entire life turned upside down and it has never been the same, or even close to what it was. To this day I worry about what will happen when the spousal support stops and when I near retirement age. Even if I can live well these next 10-15 years, what happens to me after that?

Everything I went through was excruciatingly painful. Everything I lost, especially the time with my kids, meant something to me. For a very long time there was no joy in my world. It was a bleak gray. I wanted to die. Does that really sound easier?

Six Years Ago Today

Time flies when you’re having fun. Six years ago today I had my U-Haul packed up and I loaded my two kids and the three dogs into our multiple vehicles and headed off towards Indiana. My brother drove the U-Haul and took Picasso with him. My mom had her own car, although I’m not sure if Rock Star drove with her or me. I’m fairly confident I had all of the dogs.

I remember crying as I drove out of the neighborhood. It was not supposed to be like this; however, with Jerry Lee basically getting fired and deciding that he wasn’t going to go back to work anytime soon, I didn’t have much of a choice. Even if I started working right away I wouldn’t have been able to pay the mortgage, even if that’s the only thing I paid each month.

I remember pulling into my mom’s driveway, going into the house, and thinking, “Now what?”

Now shit would get real. I had to enroll kids in school. I had to apply for Medicaid because this was back when you were fined for not having insurance. I had to apply for free lunches and textbooks. I had to find a job, which would end up taking three months. I would end up getting hired on at the bank in another month but wouldn’t start until January.

Six years. Huh. I suppose a lot has changed in those six years. I made it through the divorce. I made it through working two jobs. I met the mobster. I finally have a bed and a bedroom of my own. I finally have a job where I make a decent amount of money instead of crossing my fingers each month that Jerry Lee will pay his support in full and not modify it yet again. I finally have a kick ass legal agreement that puts Jerry Lee in jail if he fails to pay. Rock Star will soon graduate and will be fully launched by this time next year. Picasso is working on it.

And while this happens EVERY year today is also National Cheesecake Day. If you live close to a Cheesecake Factory you can go in and get yourself a slice of cheesecake. I think it was free, but it may be half price now. You can’t get carry out but you don’t need to order anything other than the cheesecake in the restaurant. Go get yourself some cheesecake! Make this day a happy one!

Beating A Dead Horse

Honestly, I don’t mean to beat a dead horse but I am astounded.

“Why?” you ask.

I would love to tell you. I see women come to support boards. They’ve been a stay at home mom for years. Some of them homeschool. They are at the mercy of the very man who cheated on them and left them in financial disarray. And then they ask, “Will the judge award me enough child support (and/or alimony, in some cases) that I can continue to stay at home with my children?”

You continue the conversation and let them know that they are probably going to have to get a job. That’s when they hit you with, “But I homeschool!” or “But I have young children! They’ve never been in daycare.” Or even, “How can I even consider getting a job when daycare costs will eat up everything I make? I might even lose money!”

Honey, the judge doesn’t care. I know this wasn’t what you had planned. But it’s your reality now. For every one woman who tells you she is able to manage to get by on support payments alone you’ll hear from over 100 that will tell you they had to get a job. No judge is going to award you 90% or more of your ex-husband’s paycheck. You’d be lucky to get half and that’s a rare occurrence.

I get it. I really do. You’ve been blindsided. Your whole world has been turned upside down. You are grasping desperately for anything that might provide a semblance of normalcy.

I say this as gently as possible. You must let go. Holding on to that old life of yours is doing you no favors.

I was that woman once upon a time. I found out my husband was cheating on me six days after our $57,000.00 inground pool was finally filled. I lived off of what he was willing to give me (what he had incorrectly been told he would be ordered to pay) and the money I had transferred into my own account. And then I lived primarily off of the temporary spousal and child support, which gave me a lot more room to breathe, my half of what remained of his bonus, and the remaining savings. I found out in August and still didn’t have a job in June when my world turned upside down yet again.

I believe I’ve shared with you before that my plan was to start looking for a job right around the time my daughter was able to drive. That way she could get herself and her brother to the places they needed to go and they wouldn’t need to lose out on cheerleading, gymnastics, and band because I had a job and couldn’t leave to take them.

Of course, we all know how that panned out. Terribly. Jerry Lee lost his job. Stopped sending money. I had to sell off everything I could and what I couldn’t sell I left behind when the kids and I moved 600 miles away to Indiana, in with my mom. My kids received free lunches and free textbooks. We were on Medicaid. I might have been able to qualify for food stamps.

My advice is based on the shit storm of my experience. DO NOT RELY ON THE PERSON WHO BETRAYED YOU!

When you are reliant on child and/or spousal support you are at the mercy of the person paying you. You disagree with him? You refuse to go along with whatever it is that he wants you to do? He holds the support payment hostage. Or maybe he doesn’t hold it hostage; he just doesn’t pay if he has something better to do. You know- taking Schmoopie on a fancy vacation, buying toys or bikes or dogs or cars for her kids to impress them, putting in a pool, buying a new car. Whatever strikes his fancy because child support is simply a suggestion and it’s the bill he pays after he buys whatever he wants. Now what are you going to do? You can’t take him back to court when you have no money. Sure, you may be awarded court costs but you have to pay your lawyer in the meantime. How are you going to do that when your only source of income has dried up?

Let’s say you are fortunate enough to be awarded enough child and spousal support that you don’t have to get a job. Let’s even say you’re able to be comfortable on what you’re awarded. All worked out, right?

Until he stops paying. Or he modifies it on his own. Or he dies or becomes disabled.

My temporary orders gave me $6600 a month. While that sounds like a lot my household bills, including our credit cards, mortgage, phone, insurance, and utilities totaled approximately $5000. I had $1600 a month for food, gas, pet food, and anything else we might need. I was planning on staying at least until Rock Star graduated. I was willing to stay until Picasso graduated if he decided he wanted to stay. At that point I would have probably moved back to Indiana. I could have managed just fine on $6600 per month without working if I was no longer living in such an expensive house. Living with my mom? Oh, I definitely wouldn’t have had to work.

I received the court ordered amount for all of five months. Then he lost his job, stopped paying, and decided it would be more advantageous to him to force me and his kids out of our house and go into this divorce with no job. I lost everything.

The lesson there? There’s a big difference between what you’re awarded and what you actually receive. The last statistics I read were 43.5% of people who are awarded child support receive the full amount. That leaves 56.5% who do not. Statistics also report that 30% don’t receive anything.

Let’s say he pays in full as he’s supposed to and it’s enough for you to live on. Great! You’re free to homeschool and be there to take your kids to all of their extracurricular activities. You get to be a stay at home mom despite the fact that you are divorced.

Have you thought about what’s going to happen when your kids are no longer in school? At some point they’ll graduate. The child support will stop. You are then going to have to support yourself. On what? You’ve been a stay at home mom now for twenty years, give or a take a few years. Who is going to hire you? When you get hired how much are they going to pay you?

I was out of the workforce for 15 years. I had a college degree. I stocked shelves at Target for $11.00/hour. I went in anywhere from 2 am until 4 am. That was the first place that called me for an interview. I put in endless applications and heard nothing back.

It took me four years at the bank before I began making close to decent money. Four years and five promotions.

Maybe these ladies will be very fortunate. Maybe one or more of them has a pharmacy degree or a nursing degree and they can go back to work and make fantastic money. I’m pretty sure pharmacists are making six figures now, and depending upon your nursing experience you can definitely make six figures. But from the way they present their situations I don’t think they’re going to enter the workforce after being out for 10 or 15 years and find a job making a huge salary.

All those years you spend at home, living off of child support, are years you are NOT advancing in your career. It’s years you are not being promoted or earning raises. It’s a longer period of time where your resume is blank.

And don’t even get me started on retirement! You might be able to live on child support but can you also save for your retirement? That is doubtful. Again, we’re back to years of NOT contributing to your future. You’re only going to be eligible to receive half of your husband’s retirement, and depending upon how long he’s been working and how much he’s contributed there may not be nearly as much in those accounts as you’d think. No job means no Social Security benefits of your own, and even if you were married 10 years and one day (and don’t remarry) you only get to collect half of what his benefits are.

I can tell you now, almost seven years after finding out about the cheating, that there is nothing more satisfying than knowing you can support yourself, if need be. I spent years being at his mercy. Wondering if this was the month he wasn’t going to pay. When his mom died he paid about a fourth of what he was supposed to pay because he was busy paying her funeral expenses. Didn’t have the common decency to ask if I would be okay with that. Didn’t even have the common decency to tell me that’s why he would be late. And then had the nerve to act indignant that I asked about it. He would pay when he wanted. He would modify payments when he wanted. He frequently waited until the very last day of the month to make his final payment. I dealt with 2 job losses There was always that fear that he would stop paying and I would have to go back to working two jobs and running myself ragged. Now, if he decided to test me and see if I really would throw him in jail (spoiler alert: I would) I might have to tighten my belt but I would make it. My bills would be paid. I’ve been fairly smart and I put money aside for taxes every month and I put money into savings. I won’t have to go get a second job if I don’t want to. That is an amazing feeling.

Yes, when you have young children daycare costs may eat up most of what you make. But you’re still advancing. You’re still getting raises. You’re still putting your name out there and creating a resume for yourself. Your children won’t always be in daycare. And as someone pointed out daycare costs are separate from child support; they’re also usually income based so if he out earns you by a significant amount he may be paying 60%, 70%, even 80% of the costs while you pick up the remaining amount.

We tend to focus on our children when they’re little. We don’t think about the future and what happens when they grow up and move on. We never seem to see what lies ahead. Please look out for yourself, and don’t rely on the person who tried to destroy you.

Two For Two

Jerry Lee is on a roll! Picasso recently had a birthday. Little munchkin turned 20! 20. Can you believe it?

Daddy Dearest texted him (yeah, we’ll get to that in a minute) a birthday message. This is not verbatim but pretty damn close: Happy Birthday, son. I miss you tons. Have a great day. I’m so proud of you. I love you. Hope the day isn’t too hot for you (yeah, we’ll get to that, too).

As Picasso succinctly said, “He apparently realized he couldn’t send his birthday message through Venmo because he wasn’t planning on sending me anything for my birthday.”

Yes, that is correct. Jerry Lee flaked out on giving either one of his kids a birthday gift this year. The man and his cousin bring home over 12k a month but apparently he is too broke to send his kids fifty bucks.

Or perhaps he has simply given up. He realizes his kids aren’t willing to give him the time of day because of his own actions, and instead of owning up to that he has decided he will stop sending them money because, in his eyes, they don’t appreciate it and are only using him as a wallet. Poor sad sausage. His kids don’t appreciate him. Because of me, of course. I brainwashed them.

I was the one that convinced them that him moving out of the house and out of the state to go be with his mistress was a dick move. Naturally they were fine with it until I pointed out, falsely of course, that he had abandoned them!

I was the one that convinced them that him spending hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on the whore’s kids while letting his own go without was a bad thing. They didn’t have a problem with that until I pointed it out.

I was the one that told them they should be hurt that their dad could show up for cheerleading competitions and show and tell for the mulligans while he ditched his own kids. They were good with it until then.

In fact, every bad experience they’ve had since the separation and divorce can be boiled down to me not putting the correct positive spin on it and falling on my sword for him and all his glory.

Whatevs!

Anyway, back to that whole texting thing…. Did everybody catch that? Mr. Genius, Mr. Mensa Member Material, has been claiming for years now that he did not have Picasso’s phone number. The story he told was his phone got wet or something and he lost most of his contacts. While he did have Rock Star’s number, Picasso’s was lost and he had no way of getting it. Interesting. You’d think a genius might be able to formulate a plan. Hell, I’m not a genius and yet I clearly remember tracking down a cute guy I met at a frat party using nothing except my memory, a student directory of the dorms, and some simple fucking deductions! I didn’t even have a last name for him at the time.

Now the question is: Was he lying this whole time, or did he somehow figure out how to get Picasso’s phone number? My son is wondering the same thing. “How did Jerry Lee get my phone number?”

I did check with Rock Star and she said she did not give it to him. Of course, he’s never asked either.

So that’s a little mystery that will never get solved. But hey- Jerry Lee has his son’s number now so no reason he can’t text him every day and say hi, tell him he loves him and misses him. Am I right?

Picasso and I were also both a bit weirded out about the whole, “Hope the day isn’t too hot for you.” The kid was born in July. It’s typically a hot month in the Midwest. I’m not sure Jerry Lee knows how heat adverse Picasso is; however, I recently posted about how proud I was of Picasso. I talked about how he had graduated with no fanfare last June and that as of January he had no job and no driver’s license. And then, just like that, he decided he was going to get his license and he was going to sign up with the carpenter’s union. I went on to say he did both of those things and that he was now driving and he had been working full time since April. In this specific post though I mentioned that the heat index was supposed to be around 110 degrees and to keep him in their thoughts and prayers as I was worried about the heat.

That seems to be a very specific “hope” for Picasso. Coincidence? Or do I have a spy? And is the spy malignant or misguided and benign?

Anyway, Picasso had a great day. His actual birthday was pretty low key but the following day his sister came up and we had a family dinner at a Japanese steakhouse and then everyone came back to the house for ice cream cake. His main gift from me had been tickets to the Fully Loaded Comedy Festival, headlined by Bert Kreischer, last month. Rock Star got the same gift. But seeing as I brought wine to her on her birthday I opted to give Picasso a gift card to a local home improvement store so he could buy some tools or whatever else he might be needing for work. It was a fun time, and while the mystery of Jerry Lee suddenly having Picasso’s number and potentially knowing something about his life was interesting to speculate about, it was but a tiny sidebar and soon forgotten. Quite like Jerry Lee.

A Son Speaks

The funny part about your kids getting older is you don’t always hear what’s going on. If you’re not there in the moment you may miss it altogether. Unless you have a mother who happens to be there and passes it along.

Apparently Picasso told her that one day he’d like to go to Jerry Lee’s house, knock on his door, and when he answered simply tell him, “I’m so disappointed in you,” before walking away.

My son was 13 years old when his dad walked out the door, went to work, and then moved to another state without saying a word to either child. He has not seen or spoken to him since. He might send the occasional birthday or Christmas card. Send a few bucks through Venmo along with a sappy message. And there was that one year he sent Easter gifts to them. But he hasn’t picked up a phone and spoken to or texted his son since February of 2016. He hasn’t seen him in that time either. Six years. Honestly, once his affair was outed he pretty much ceased functioning as a father to his son.

Picasso turns 20 this July. Six and a half years since he’s seen his father, almost 7 years since his dad stopped being a dad. 13 years old. Just when a boy probably needs his dad the most. He navigated all of his teen years with no dad in sight. All this time has passed and yet it still weighs heavily upon him.

He calls him by his first name, you know. Refuses to speak of “dad”.

“I’m so disappointed in you.” I think that one sentence speaks volumes.

Look At This!

That was what my daughter texted to me, along with a screenshot from her father, about a month ago.

She was indignant because he had the audacity to text her and tell her he had seen on Facebook that she was going into her last semester of college, he wondered if that meant she was graduating in December, and he told her he hoped he would get an invite. Also, her boyfriend seems like a really nice young man and he’d love to meet him one day.

She was pissed that he was fishing for an invite to her graduation and more importantly, that he thought he got to be a part of her accomplishments when he was the one that put up stumbling block after stumbling block for her.

I’m not proud of this but I’ve always been honest with those of you who care enough to read my blog. Wait. That didn’t sound right. The thing I’m not proud of is my feelings when I read the text, not the fact that I’ve always been honest with those who read my blog. Let’s try this again.

I’m not proud of this but my heart leaped into my throat when I saw the text message, especially because I could see earlier texts between them. Then I realized she was wishing him a happy Veteran’s Day. This was May. That happened back in November. And then I realized those messages were from 2020. Now maybe they communicate in other ways but Jesus Christ on crutches!

You have no contact with your daughter for a year and a half and you want an invitation to her goddamn graduation? Fuck you! Who do you think you are?

Obviously, I am going to go along with whatever she wants to do. Right now she says she isn’t inviting him but she also said she’ll decide when it gets closer. I think she will end up inviting him and I’ve already told her I will support whatever decision she makes. But I can vent with you in my safe space.

For the most part I don’t think about him and I try not to dwell on what happened and everything he cost us. I’m not perfect. I slip up every now and then. I think it was realizing he hasn’t communicated with her except for the possible Venmo transfer since November of 2020 and then just casually slipping in, “Oh, I’d love to be invited to your graduation. I want to celebrate with you.”

Fuck you, motherfucker! Where in the hell was he when she needed rent money? Where was he when she needed money for groceries? Money for gas? Money for anything? To this day I still send regular Chewy shipments to her house for her cats. I buy them treats, kitty litter, and food. I paid what was left after financial aid towards her tuition her first year. Paid for her books. Her sorority fees. Then he lost his job mid-way through her second semester. My mom came to the rescue and paid the final $1000 until he started paying me again. Dickhead actually had the audacity to ask me why her tuition was not paid already because it obviously was all due at the beginning of the semester AND insinuated that I had filled out the FAFSA incorrectly because she shouldn’t owe a dime for tuition with my salary. Rock Star took out additional loans for her sophomore year because I didn’t know if I was going to be able to help her out. I ended up paying her rent once her first semester and from April on her second semester. I also paid all of her sorority fees. Junior year I paid her rent, utilities, and food bill, along with the sorority fees. Senior year I once again paid her tuition. And her sorority fees. And gave her money when needed. And paid all the bills for her cats. Where was he for any of that?

I remember him asking her one time to let him know if she needed anything. I think it was freshman year. She replied that she still needed to buy books. He went on to tell her some story, probably about himself, and finished up with (again), “If you need anything, let me know.”

“I literally told him exactly what I needed and he ignored it,” Rock Star told me.

I don’t believe he’s ever sent her money randomly. Maybe he has but I doubt it. And if he has I know it wasn’t a frequent occurrence.

He’s washed his hands of both of his kids but when it comes time to celebrate he thinks he should be there.

And it’s not just the money. Where was he when she called, convinced she was never going to make it into nursing school? Where was he was she was overwhelmed and wanting to drop out and come home? He was part of the reason she was overwhelmed. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders because she knew how I struggled. She felt like she had to get straight As. She felt guilty telling me she didn’t have enough money for rent. She felt guilty anytime she had to ask for something. All of that was caused by him.

Everything she has experienced since she was 15 years old has been because of him. She lost her amazing high school experience because of him. She lost gymnastics because of him. She had to move out of her home with her roomy bedroom and her own bathroom because of him. She had to switch schools because of him. She had to worry about how to pay for college because of him. She ended up at Ball State instead of some school in Utah or Virginia because of him. Hell, she’s on anti-anxiety meds and anti depressants because of him. Just this past December she admitted she always feels like she’s not good enough. Why wasn’t she worth it? Why did her dad abandon her? How could he walk right by her and not say goodbye or tell her that he loved her? She feels like she always has to prove herself to him.

He took this young, bubbly, beautiful, confident young woman and turned her into an anxiety ridden mess. He did a number on her and her future, but by all means, let’s have him show up and take a bow. He took everything he could away from her, made things so much more difficult than they had to be. But by all means, preen about like a peacock. So proud! Daddy of the Year, right there. You were so instrumental in her upbringing.

No, you asshole, you were instrumental in attempting to orchestrate her downfall. But you didn’t succeed. I stepped in wherever you lacked. My mom stepped in wherever I lacked. I’m the one that told her she was exceptional. I’m the one that told her I was proud of her. I’m the one that was always there, always supporting her, always nurturing her, always encouraging her, always assuring her that she could do it. I’m the one that told her she was worth it and to never let her worth be measured by her father. I’m the one that told her she was going to be an amazing nurse. I’m the one that has paid for therapy, and I’m the one that has kept her going.

Here’s the funny thing. I don’t take credit for her accomplishments. I’m proud of her. I’ve supported her, both financially and emotionally. But I didn’t do it. I’m not why she succeeded. She succeeded because she’s incredibly driven. Disciplined. She knew what she wanted and she went after it. I didn’t take those classes. I didn’t do the labs or the clinicals or the homework. She did all of that. She has had an intense schedule for years. The achievement is all her.

It still chaps my ass that Jerry Lee thinks he should be able to show up and celebrate. Sit the fuck down! I’m the one that raised this kid. You were too busy off fucking your cousin and trying to impress kids that already had an involved father.

Back In Time

We got back from Utah last Sunday. Rock Star, her boyfriend, Picasso, the mobster, and I all went out for 10 glorious days. We went horseback riding, rafting, and hiking. We visited some of our favorite places and visited some new ones. The mobster finally got to see the Great Salt Lake and if asked, he would tell you, it smells to high heaven. We probably wouldn’t have gone if not for the fact we went horseback riding on Antelope Island and Antelope Island is in the middle of the Great Salt Lake. It was a great time and yet… I felt myself overcome with the feelz more than a few times.

I don’t know why. It’s not as if I haven’t been back since DDay and everything that happened. Then again, our other two trips were pretty quick and were for a specific purpose. First trip back was for Rock Star’s college visit. It was a long weekend and we weren’t even back in our area. We flew into Vegas and spent the entire time about 4 1/2 hours away from our town. Our second trip back was for our friend’s son’s wedding. We flew out Friday morning and flew back home Sunday afternoon. It was the mobster’s first trip to Utah and we tried to cram as much as possible into the time we were there, but the wedding itself took up almost a full day. Again, there was a purpose for the trip.

This time we were there to relax, reconnect with friends, and do all the things we used to do but could no longer because we don’t live there. There were a few bumps in the road but overall it was a great trip. I missed seeing some people but a week really isn’t long enough to see everyone, do everything, and eat all the food you’ve missed. You think it will be, but isn’t.

I didn’t spend my whole trip bemoaning the loss of my old life but there were times I did get hit with jolts of nostalgia. They were mostly tiny triggers but I could feel them some days. I would have the question, “Why was I being triggered?” but the answer to that is in the first sentence of this paragraph. I was constantly being reminded of my old life, the one that is gone, obliterated. I will never have it again.

So many things have changed out there and it was super frustrating. I kept feeling like I should know where I was going, especially considering the entire city is set up on a grid, but I kept getting so turned around. It’s not just that there are new stores and restaurants. They have new roads and highways. The Mountain View Corridor had just opened a year before we left, or rather, parts of the Mountain View Corridor had just opened. I remember it ran much further west than it did east. Now it connects to the freeways. 

I also remember driving along the opened parts, talking to myself or envisioning what I would say to Jerry Lee, Tammy Faye, or Jezebel, when shit first started going down. I remember screaming and crying after Tammy Faye had commented on how pretty Harley was in one of her profile pictures. I wondered at the time how on earth she could possibly compliment my husband’s mistress, knowing we were together still. It hurt me to the core that she could spend so much time telling her how pretty she was every two weeks when she changed her profile picture, but she couldn’t be bothered to tell me even once.

That new-to-me, finally completed corridor brings up a lot of memories, and not all of them are good.

The highway with the funny name (Bangerter) that ran from one end of the Salt Lake Valley to the other and which was dotted first with stoplights at the major streets, and then with weird left turn interchanges has been changed to overpasses with exit ramps where most of the lights used to be. There is still endless amounts of construction going on.

I would get on a freeway and think I would know where I was and then pass a store I recognized and realize I wasn’t where I thought I was. That, or the freeway was taking me in circles and I didn’t realize it before. Or perhaps I forgot.

There was the moment at Lagoon when we were standing in a massive line to buy tickets, only to turn around and stand in another line to enter the park. I looked over at the kiosks where the season pass holders could enter and recalled all the seasons we had summer passes. We’d go up for a few hours sometimes because it didn’t matter if we rode everything or not. We’d be back later that week, or maybe the next week.

I did laugh about the time I lost Rock Star and her best friend. They had gone off to ride the roller coaster and we somehow got separated. I came up with the genius idea to crumble up Doritos so I could spell out a message for them: Stay here! I came back twice to find the crumbs were scattered all over and thought birds had pecked at the pieces and helped themselves to a tasty treat. I found out much later that those two rotten girls had seen the message and just wiped the Doritos away so that they could keep riding the rides without interruption.

As our week progressed I pointed out places that meant something to us. Here’s Scheel’s, a huge sporting goods store with an aquarium that goes around the store and a giant ferris wheel in the middle of the store. That’s the aquarium I took the kids to; they just moved from Sandy to Draper as we were leaving. They’ve got penguins and an anaconda. Lots of cool displays and set ups. Here’s where we lived. That’s the grocery store I ran to when I was out of something. There’s Jordan Landing. Look at how much it’s changed! They’ve got a Cafe Rio and a Waffle Love now. That’s the Walmart where I grocery shopped. There’s my kids’ dentist office. This is where my kids’ pediatrician was. That’s where I used to get my hair done until my stylist started doing hair out of her house. Hey, where’s Lani’s Snow Cones? They used to be right here, in the parking lot across the street from my former vet’s office. And that’s the Real soccer stadium. Huge controversy when they built that despite the voters saying, “No!” Oh, and there’s the ER where I spent many a days with my kids. And here are the malls we went to. There’s the Trax station; that was just built about a year before we left. We used to take it downtown so we didn’t have to worry about parking. We even ended up stopping in Park City and going right by one of the gyms where Rock Star competed every February once she reached Optionals. And although we didn’t spend a lot of time hanging out downtown going back there and seeing the outdoor shopping malls, especially the one that opened shortly before we left, was difficult. This all used to be at our fingertips. There was so much and we gave it all up to move to Harrisonburg, VA where they didn’t even have an Olive Garden and the food court at their mall consisted of one Chinese place and an ice cream shop. There were so many memories that accompanied this trip.

The hardest part though was hearing my friend tell the mobster stories about me and who I used to be. It wasn’t a bad thing. She was being very complimentary. More of a, “Oh my gosh! Let me tell you how amazing Sam was!” 

Let me preface this by saying I don’t spend a lot of time talking to people in my day to day life about what my life used to be like. I’m pretty open about what happened to me as far as my husband cheating on me with his cousin, leaving Virginia without a word to me or the kids, and abandoning his children, but I don’t talk about what my life used to be like. I don’t go on and on about my former life as a stay at home mom, or a PTA president, or all the places I took the kids, or the things that we used to do. I do occasionally talk about missing my pool, but aside from that I don’t talk about the big house I used to live in or the shopping sprees I used to be able to go on. I don’t talk about my walk in closet or my multiple bathrooms or how I decorated the house because I had nothing else to do. The mobster and I talk about that part very little because it doesn’t matter anymore. It used to be. It’s not anymore. And to be clear it’s not as if that’s all my friend wanted to talk about but when telling the stories of our girls growing up together you end up talking about that previous life because that was the way things used to be.

My friend works full time. Always has. Our girls were the same age and best friends. I frequently took her daughter to Lagoon and the water park and hiking and the roller skating rink and all the other places we would go in the summer. Her daughter was the only kid I allowed to spend the night on a school night and vice versa. On late start days in middle school, if she slept over, I’d take them both to Kneaders for breakfast. The mobster was regaled with stories of how I did everything with and for my kids. I was constantly running them from one activity to another. I took them places constantly. I was always busy and always doing things with them.

My friend went on to tell the mobster how her daughter would come home and tell her, “She’s the best mom!” Yeah, that was me. I was the best mom, was being the important part of that sentence. Now I’m the barely-ok-sometimes-adequate mom.

The mobster was also treated to stories about how I was Ms. PTA President. I knew everybody. I did everything. I was so involved up at the school. As my friend put it, “Sam worked her ass off up at that school!” Yes, I did put in quite a bit of effort for Teacher Appreciation. I wanted my teachers to feel appreciated and loved. I enjoyed doing it. Everyone knew me. Everyone raved about me. Everyone loved me. I had a purpose. Today? I couldn’t tell you the names of Picasso’s teachers the last four years, with the exception of his biology teacher. That’s only because it was the same damn teacher I had for biology back in 1983.

Don’t get me wrong. This new life is not the path I thought I was going to take; it’s not the life I thought I was going to live. But it’s a good life. Most days I enjoy it and I’m happy. I met the love of my life. I have a job finally that will actually support me. I just moved into my new office. I didn’t sacrifice my kids for this new life and my happiness. Despite both of them struggling with mental health issues they are doing well. Rock Star is entering her senior year and moving in with the boyfriend. I have high hopes Picasso will return to work soon. I have accepted that the old life is gone. But damn- all of those memories, even if what my friend was doing was bragging on me and lifting me up, they still hurt. It was another realization that that life was over. Who I was back then is nothing like who I am now. I went from PTA mom who knew all the teachers to the mom whose son barely graduated high school. I went from being the mom who kept my kids busy five days out of seven (I rarely took them places on the weekends) to the mom that can literally stay in her pajamas all weekend long. I went from having good, close friends that I hung out with, went to lunch with, went on trips with, to having mostly acquaintances. I am not the same person I was and I don’t necessarily think it’s a positive change.

I think my kids got cheated out of a great mom. I had to go back to work and I had to work a lot in the beginning- 6 and 7 days a week in the beginning, crazy hours, very little sleep. Even now I don’t have time to myself like I once did and they suffer because of it. Instead of running everywhere with them and trying to find things they might like I would rather hang out at home and chill.

Going back there brought back how much Jerry Lee took from us, especially how much he took from Rock Star and Picasso.

It’s a bit overdramatic to proclaim that I will never forgive him for what he did; however, out of all of the things that he’s done moving us out of Utah and then ditching us for Harley is definitely one of his all time lows. I truly don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for that.

Ironically, my daughter’s boyfriend fell in love with Utah the moment he landed. They are legitimately looking into moving there after she graduates. It’s not only because of the boyfriend. 

Rock Star recalls her childhood as being amazing (and it was). Her friend told her she really appreciates how I didn’t let them stay on their screens all the time and took them places, which I found a little funny. I never restricted TV or phones. I just found things to do with them and took them. Plus, I didn’t have a smart phone myself for most of their early childhood. They didn’t have phones either until they were 5th or 6th grade so it wasn’t even me keeping them off of them. Rock Star envisions raising her children the same way, keeping them off of their phones and making sure they have plenty of adventures outdoors. The problem is my kids had that life because I didn’t work. I’m about 99% sure we would not have had season passes to the amusement park if I had to take them on the weekends throughout the summer. The lines are horrible. I hate crowds. I wouldn’t have done it. Our weekends probably wouldn’t have been jam packed with activities because I would have been tired after working all week. She’s comparing what I did for her and her brother as a stay at home mom to her being a working mom. I hope she’s better at balancing the two than I am. But she also talks about how everything feels so much safer out there. She wants to feel comfortable letting her kids ride their bikes and wander around their neighborhood.

If going back to Utah is what she really wants then I hope she gets the chance to do that. I know Picasso would return in a heartbeat as well. The mobster loved it out there and was ready to move, too, but he needs to be practical. His kids are all in the eastern part of the United States- West Virginia, Virginia and New Hampshire. As for me? I would love to return but there’s no way I could ever afford it. Thanks to the smartest man you’ll ever meet we sold our house for $20,000 less than what we purchased it for 8 years prior in order to make this cross country move for his “dream job”. Seven years later it’s going for around double what we sold it for. His genius continues. Because he let our house go into foreclosure neither of us has any money for a down payment, not that we would have made much of a profit seeing as how our mortgage was less than a year old when Jerry Lee took up with his cousin again.  Average homes in average subdivisions are going for $500,000 or more out there. I can’t afford a $200,000 home, much less a $500,000 home. You need a $100,000 down payment and your mortgage is still over $2000 a month. Unfortunately, it looks like I’m stuck here because returning to Utah permanently is out of the question for me. Instead, I’ll have to be content going back every few years and trying to relearn my way around the valley. Grrr!

Here’s to my next trip and fewer triggers.