Damn You, Facebook!

I hope everyone reading my blog by now knows that I am completely over Jerry Lee. That ship sailed the moment The Saint told me he had been spending his weekends with Harley while he lied to me and made up story after story. And I am probably somewhere in the 95-99% range of being over all the shit he put me through and the havoc he created. With that said Facebook can be a real meddlin’ bitch who stirs shit up!

If I let triggers rule my life I would have to be put into a coma somewhere around the beginning of May and be kept unconscious until the end of August. That’s pretty much when Jerry Lee pulled all his shit- both times! Much like my children have June and July birthdays which means I can pretty much always say, “They’re two years apart,” Jerry Lee was “kind enough” to make sure that both of my D-Days were in August. Four days apart! Except for the original D-Day which was not much of a D-Day because I was so stupid. That one happened in May- hence the medically induced coma beginning in May.

I looked on my Facebook memories and was treated to pictures of my kids and I on a “family” vacation in Destin with my mom, brother, sister-in-law, 2 nieces, and a nephew. I’m not triggered by the pictures of us on vacation so much as I am by what was going on behind the scenes.

See, poor Jerry Lee couldn’t come with us because he had to go on a “business trip” to Tennessee. That was the trip where his counselor and I both coached him on the arduous drive that he was unsure he was going to be able to make. We cheered him on and gave him all the atta-boys his little heart could handle. And then while the kids and I were in Destin Jerry Lee drove to Tennessee and met up with Harley. We’d been in Virginia one year exactly.

I look at those pictures and I see me and my kids enjoying our vacation, having a great time, with absolutely no idea what was ahead of us. We were carefree and happy. Approximately two weeks later I would find out my husband was a lying, cheating shit eating chimp, and about two weeks after that his kids would find out that the family they grew up with was no longer. In a 10 minute come-to-Jesus confessional they both found out not only had their father been spending his weekends hanging out with his new girlfriend in Kentucky but also his entire family knew about it and condoned it. His mother organized it and went on a date with them. It was to a funeral but still…

While the kids and I were on vacation, thinking that life was going on as normal, my husband was busy stabbing me in the back. I look at those pictures now and I think, “Oh my God! You were completely clueless.” And it makes me kind of sad.

Of course, this was also the trip where I spotted the Walmart purchase in Whoreville, otherwise known as Winchester, Kentucky. Looking back on it it’s quite insulting how stupid he thought I was. “D’oh, I gave my debit card to my mom so she could get a new tire for her minivan. That’s why that’s on there. I don’t know why it says Whoreville. She bought it in Lexington.”

Actually looking back it’s kind of insulting how stupid I allowed myself to be. In my defense I thought he was a whole lot smarter than that. Who in their right mind moves their family across the country, buys a brand new house, fills it with brand new furniture, buys their wife a brand new car, and agrees to install a brand new in-ground pool in the backyard which takes almost all of your stock options and requires a loan, and then turns around and cheats with the same damn whore you cheated with 2 years prior? Even more stupid than that, who in the hell buys the whore something from Walmart and uses their damn debit card when they know damn well that the other spouse can see the bank transactions and is checking on a regular basis because they’re on vacation with your kids? I do remember saying to myself, “He can’t be that stupid. He’s a smart man.” Not smart enough apparently.

God, he was such a shit. I remember being in Florida and him telling me the trip lasted longer than he expected. Then he told me that since he was already in Tennessee he was going to “try” to drive and see his mom. Would I be okay with that?

Would I be okay with him seeing his mom? Absolutely. I said as much. Something along the lines of, “She’s your mom. Of course I don’t have a problem with it. How could I say no to that?” Would I be okay with him fucking his cousin? No. I had no idea that to him they were one and the same. Okay with him continuing to slough off on our family vacation? Well then I must be okay with him fucking his cousin. And going to a goddamn family reunion that was set up knowing his wife and kids weren’t going to be there. It was probably their fucking engagement party knowing those inbred motherfuckers.

I don’t remember what set me off. All I remember is thinking that if he could spend money freely on his “mother” then I was no longer going to be keeping the purse strings closed for my kids. I took Rock Star on a very nice shopping spree. All the clothes she wanted. A Coach purse. Another Coach purse for me… after I had already bought a Kate Spade purse and wallet because the Coach purse I liked was a little too expensive. Oh you better believe I went back there a day or two later and bought the one I wanted. It was an outlet mall; it wasn’t that expensive. I bought for Picasso as well, but he had no interest in coming along.

I guess that seeing these memories pop up so close to my return trip to Utah has hit me in some way. I don’t want him back and while I freely admit I miss the lifestyle I used to have I can’t envision still being with him. The thought of being married to him and living life with him makes my skin crawl. I am 100% happier in this new life. Yet I look at those pictures and I can’t help but know that I thought I was happy and I was definitely a lot more innocent. I had no idea the hell that was about to be unleashed. I had no idea the changes and the hardships that were about to befall me. I was a sheltered, pampered stay at home mom with no financial worries and plenty of (maybe too much) time on my hands. Those pictures represent me before life kicked me in the throat. They’re a reminder of my old life, a life where I didn’t struggle and where I thought things were okay, maybe even mostly good. Those pictures are me and my kids before our lives were imploded and we were forced to change everything.

It’s not a bad life anymore. I’m not even sure I’m sad about it. It’s more like seeing a picture of a loved one shortly before they die. You look at that picture and you think to yourself, “I had no idea at the time that this would be the last time I saw them.” That’s what those pictures do to me. I look at the happy faces, the smiles, and I think, “That’s the last time my life was normal.” Approximately two weeks later I would join the ranks of women whose husbands had cheated on them and were planning on leaving for the other woman. I went from being a stay at home mom to being a working mom. I went from being a great mom to just being a mom. I went from living in my own home to living in my mom’s house. I went from no financial worries to worrying about money constantly. I went from being married for 20 years to being single. I went from living in Virginia to moving back to Indiana. I went from having furniture and dishes and towels to getting rid of probably 95% of everything I’d ever owned. Absolutely everything changed. Those pictures are the last pictures taken of me before I died, along with my old life.

Oh, don’t worry. Like the Phoenix I rose from the ashes. Maybe I’m even better than I was before. All that forged in fire shit. Not waiting for the storm to pass but learning to dance in the rain. I did that. I’m still standing. But that woman in those pictures? She’s gone forever.

A Very Special Wedding

I’m not really sure what Roy Moore has to do with this meme but I have got to use the term “cousband” at least once in my life time. ⁰ Alabama to Kentucky, get rid of the monster truck, and let me introduce you to Harley and Jerry Lee.

Cousband- oh, that is brilliant. Perfect.

What Is Normal?

This is a two part post. Part 2 has a completely different name though. Watch for Holland tomorrow.

I was reading the comments over on Chump Lady the other day. Someone said she had been asked by a good friend, “When will you be normal again?”

That’s an interesting question, isn’t it? When will I be normal again? I don’t know. If by, “being normal” the person means “going back to how you used to be” I don’t think I will ever be normal.

My normal was being a wife and a mom. I was the one that was there for my kids 100% of the time. I drove them to practice, attended their games and meets, and chauffeured them and their friends around. When school was out I planned amazing adventures- water parks, hikes, amusement parks, vacations, museums. If school was out it meant I got to sleep in later, just like they did. I was able to spend the day with them. Oh sure, there were the times I carpooled with other moms, or asked a friend if she could grab my kid, but that wasn’t the norm. Now I’m the mom whose son has to sit in the office for an hour or more when the bus is running late because I can’t go pick him up. I rely on others because I can’t be there. I rely on my mom or my brother or my sister-in-law or my niece to pick my kids up from work and school, and to take them to doctor’s appointments and dentist appointments because I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be there because I work every day.

Add that to my list of things that is no longer normal. I didn’t have to work before. My time was my own. I had plenty of downtime to do things I wanted, to get together with friends, while my kids were in school. Then in the afternoons when they were back home I could devote my time to them. Now, I’m at work all day. When I get home if I spend time doing things I want to do I’m neglecting them. If I’m spending time with them I have no me time.

My normal was being able to shop for clothes for my kids without worrying about whether or not this was going to break the bank. I could buy them toys and gadgets and not think twice. I could buy expensive make-up at Christmas for my daughter. I could buy iPods and iPads and MacBook Pros. I could spend amazing amounts of money at Christmas, and I could afford to be generous with my mom and my nieces and nephews. Now those nieces and nephews will be outearning me shortly.

My normal was living in my own house, preferably a fairly large house. It didn’t matter how many pairs of shoes I left in the living room, or if I didn’t do the dishes right away, or how much shit I let pile up, because I was the one cleaning it all up anyway. All the furniture in my own house was furniture that I had picked out. All the decorations were decorations I had selected. I had a room of my own. I had space. I had all my stuff.

Now, if I were to move out I have to start all over. I have no plates or bowls. No silverware. No towels. I have pans and some baking sheets and cake pans. I have some glasses and some mugs and some kitchen utensils. I have a blender, a popcorn popper, an immersion blender, a waffle maker, a few crockpots, a Keurig, and a George Foreman grill. I’m pretty sure that’s the extent of my kitchen. I also have no furniture save for 4 bar stools, although I do have my magnolia painting and all the pictures of my kids.

I suppose I could see this as a grand adventure. “How exciting! I get to completely start all over! All new things. Hooray!” Instead I feel like I did when I moved into my first apartment- starting out for the very first time and dirt poor.

My normal was volunteering in PTA, knowing all of the teachers, and getting together with friends. Now my life is spent working. It’s not like I’m going to end up with some wonderful new career. I will always be poor. My daughter will graduate in four years and make triple what I make. I don’t see a path to riches where I am.

That’s another “normal” thing that I will never get back. I used to live an upper middle class lifestyle. Now, I don’t. I never will again unless I start playing the lottery and end up winning.

I think it’s very similar to someone who has lost a child. You never get over it. You never stop feeling like a piece of yourself is missing; you never stop feeling that loss. Your old, “normal” life is over forever; you now must go on living this new life, the one that no longer includes your beloved child. Normal doesn’t exist anymore.

There are a few positives to this new life. I don’t have to put up with an asshole any longer. I met the mobster. I’m closer to family, which can be a blessing and a curse. Remember, my normal is doing everything on my own. I lived most of the last twenty years away from my family.

Meanwhile, CF goes blissfully on his way. My life has been turned upside down and then hammered into the ground. He has everything he has ever wanted. This divorce was a goldmine for him. He has yet another high paying job. Between him and Harley his life style hasn’t decreased at all. Not one penny. In fact, together they make more than he did by himself when we were married. He lives in a house that looks like our old house. He’s got a new wife and new kids. He lives where he wants to live- back in his home state, close to his mommy, when she was alive, and his sister. He goes to not-his-kids’ sporting events. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he also attends parent-teacher conferences for them and coaches their damn sports teams. He goes on family vacations with them and out to celebrate birthdays. He doesn’t hole up in his bedroom all the time. He’s got dogs and cats. He’s blooming, like a rose. Divorce has been wonderful. A little expensive but wonderful nonetheless.

When will I be back to normal? Never. I wasted twenty years of my life on someone who never deserved me. I’ve been betrayed, lied to, humiliated, played for a fool, dumped for a whore cousin, financially raped, and drug through the mud. I’ve had someone try to destroy me and I have ended up losing everything. CF and Harley happily play house and embrace their new life together; they have everything they set out to get when they embarked on their affair. I, on the other hand, am left to continue trying to build this new life of mine out of the ashes of my old life. My normal is gone. My old life was destroyed and it will never be back to “normal”. I’m expected to forge ahead with a new life and call that my new normal. That is my only choice.

It sounds like a rather daunting task, doesn’t it? It has been, but all hope is not lost. You see, I believe the key is simply realizing that the old normal is gone, and to embrace all the newness.

 

The Doubts

Welcome to Part 3 on my series of the folly of pain shopping. You can read Part 1 and/or part 2 if you are so inclined.

I do not want him back. He is a pox upon humanity. I am madly in love with the mobster and I am happier than I have ever been. Still…. I look at that shit on her Facebook and I wonder…

Was he right and we just weren’t good together? Is Harley better suited for him because she doesn’t mind sitting at home all day long? Will their love of Kentucky basketball see them through every hardship? Is she just better than me in his eyes, because he certainly didn’t want any part of the family life with me and our kids? I couldn’t get him out of his damn bed. I couldn’t pry him away from the TV. We didn’t take trips together. He didn’t feel the need to be a supportive dad to his own kids. He never complimented me where everyone in the world could see it.

Was he right and I was a terrible wife? I never put photo frames around his picture and declared I loved my veteran. I thanked him every year but I didn’t post pictures and photo frames and declarations of love. Maybe she is just all around better than me. I envision her working her 40+ hours a week, bringing home a substantial paycheck and still having plenty of time to cook dinner, clean house and do laundry all while being supermom to her kids. At least three of them.

I work 40+ works hours a week and bring home less now than I did when I first started, thanks to taxes, a 401k, and crappy medical insurance for me and my two kids. My mom cooks and does laundry. I rarely see my kids- Rock Star is gone a huge chunk of the time and Picasso is off doing his own thing in his room. I did begin and end this divorce with two kids so I’ve got that going for me. I’ll put that one in the win column for me.

I see pictures of them with all their pets so I know I didn’t turn him off because I loved animals and had a house full.

I sometimes even see witty memes and I think to myself, “That’s pretty funny; too bad you’re a whore.”

Was he right and I just wasn’t “the one”? I wasn’t a good fit and she is. Is it that simple? Maybe they really are deliriously happy together. Maybe it’s the love affair of the century, Kentucky style.

Maybe I just wasn’t the right wife for him and she is. Did I fail him? Did he at one point think I had all the necessary traits he wanted/needed in a wife, but over the years he came to realize I did not?

That is the fear, isn’t it? It’s not that the two people who did this to you are evil, horrible, rotten people who should be strung up and shot; it’s that those two people who did this to you are so much better suited to one another. They compliment each other. They fit together. They make a better couple. They realized it and weren’t afraid to plunge ahead while you clung to the past with everything you had. It’s about being bested by a whore with no morals who may actually be the better partner because God knows he does things for her and her kids that he never bothered to do for me and mine.

Was I the starter wife? Did he learn from his mistakes with me? Did he finally realize that barricading himself in the bedroom and submerging himself in the television all by himself was not the path to a happy marriage so now he’ll do better? Is that why he’s willing to do all the things that I would have loved for him to do with all of us?

Did I somehow prevent him from living up to his potential? Was I too overbearing when it came to the kids? Is that why he was reluctant to come with us but is always ready and willing to help out with her kids and to act like one big happy family with them?

Would insisting on family dinners around the table have helped? What if I was a better housekeeper? Maybe he wouldn’t have minded being in the living room instead of shutting himself off in the bedroom. Maybe it really was me! If I had kept the house cleaner and cooked more he never would strayed. Okay, that’s a little over the top. But maybe if I had kept the house cleaner he wouldn’t have chosen to stay in his bedroom so much, or chosen to remain downstairs in the basement watching television while the kids and I stayed upstairs. I’ve said before I think that was when the breakdown began and we began living separate lives, so if I had been better at that one thing then I could have saved this and my kids would never know a life of poverty. Her little snapshots of life are all about family life and being together and doing things together. I keep coming back to: If I had been a better housekeeper maybe he wouldn’t have retreated, and all those pictures of cozy Sundays in front of a fire, or outings with children could be us.

He kept telling me I could watch whatever I wanted on TV. He didn’t need to have it on ESPN or History Channel. I never believed him though, and truthfully, didn’t want to spend hours upon hours holed up in the bedroom. It seems like she doesn’t mind and maybe if I had forced myself to do that then I would still be married.

Was I too easy going? Did that disappoint him? Did he want someone to push back? Did he want more fire? Did I make things too easy for him? Perhaps I should have taken a stand and demanded more from him. Maybe when I sighed and took on more and more of the tasks he saw it as a sign I didn’t see him worth fighting for.

Did I just flat-out disappoint him when it came to being his wife? Were there tons of things I didn’t do that a good wife should do and that Harley the Whore obviously does? I didn’t fawn over him. I didn’t call him out on Facebook all the time. I didn’t marvel over him. I didn’t bring him a cool drink while he mowed the yard. I didn’t want to snuggle in bed all day with him. I didn’t want to watch Mountain Men with him. I fell asleep on the couch even once he “allowed” me to come back and sleep in the bed. Maybe I really didn’t love him the way you should love your husband. Maybe he is now getting the love he deserves and he feels complete and happy. We all know I couldn’t make him happy, no matter how hard I tried. She appears to make him happy all the time. If you don’t believe me take a gander at her Facebook page. Everyone there will tell you how happy they both look!

Why? That is the overwhelming question that rushes through my brain as I looked at all that crap. Why was he willing to do all of this with her and her kids? He could celebrate birthdays with them, go to the zoo, take “family” vacations, go to cheer competitions, go to the hospital with her kid and fetch candy. Why can he be Dad of the Year to her kids when all he could do with ours was sit in the bedroom and watch TV? Why did we have to practically beg him to go anywhere with us? How is it that now he’s able to go away on couple’s vacations and spend time together outside of the safety of his bedroom in the evening? Why is he getting his teeth fixed? Why is he suddenly getting involved in veteran’s groups? Why is he wearing sandals with jeans? Was it something about me? Did I lack something that would have motivated him to do those things? Is she just better at getting him out of his shell? Did he give up because he thought I didn’t care?

The mobster thought this had really gotten into my head. Maybe it has but I think it’s natural to see things like that and wonder, “Why the hell couldn’t he (or she) have done all of that while we were married? Why did it take blowing up the original family for the ex to finally act the way I wish he (or she) had acted when he was with me?

I can tell you this: I will no longer be looking at her Facebook page. I do know they are masters at image management. I know that if her head was on fire she would not acknowledge it. She’d be saying, “I’m a little chilly; anyone got a sweater?” I know that ultimately it doesn’t matter what kind of a cook she is, or how promptly she does laundry, or if she keeps a cleaner house than I did because she is a woman who has no qualms about sleeping with another woman’s husband. She’s a woman who is willing to cheat on her husband. No matter what good things she may do to cover up the evil that lies within, she is an awful person with crappy character and no moral compass.

I know I don’t want him back and that life is so much nicer without him in it. It doesn’t matter if he goes out to dinner with her daughter or shows up to support her at cheer competitions. It doesn’t matter if he goes to Show and Tell with her son, or is there to hold his hand when he hurts himself. No matter what good deeds he may perform for her children he will always be an ass who abandoned his own kids, who refused to pay child support for them while he drained a 401k of $10,000, and who tried to get out of paying sufficient support for them during his court trial. He played games with child support once he got a job and calculated child support for his “beloved” daughter down to the last half hour for crying out loud. He’s also a man who has no qualms about sleeping with another man’s wife and is willing and able to cheat on his wife. Not only was he willing to cheat on me, but he was willing to lie to me, make a fool out of me, take money away from his kids and give to her and her kids, and then financially rape me. He has crappy character and no moral compass. I guess they really are ideally suited for one another. Thank God no more nice people will be subjected to their lying, cheating ways. They can both wonder what the other one is up to. I think they are probably both too pleased with themselves to ever even consider the idea that the same could be done to them.

Stay away, everyone! Nothing good comes from pain shopping. Nothing! They make you doubt yourself when you know you’re sane. They make you question yourself and your actions even when you know you did nothing wrong. They can convince you that they are living a life of carefree joy and that all of that could have been yours if you had simply danced prettier. They’ll make you wonder what you did wrong and you’ll find yourself comparing yourself to someone who is so far below you there can never be a comparison. Even when you are happy in your new life one look at the cheaters and their life on social media is enough to make you stumble off of that path of newfound happiness and bliss; they’ll take you down a twisted road of doubt and anger and jealousy.  They are master manipulators and you will never be able to compete with their highlight reel. So don’t do it! Stay far, far away!

 

In Memoriam

Tammy Faye died last night. Bob let me know. He was appalled that no one had bothered to tell me. I had to remind him that I don’t count. I never counted. I was simply an appendage hanging off of CF. “But there are rules of decency!” he cried. Sadly, Bob does not get it.

Rock Star’s dad did text her to let her know that her grandmother had coded earlier in the day and that the doctor’s were saying it was just a matter of time. That’s what Bob told me anyway, and when I told my kids my daughter informed me that she already knew all of that. I’m assuming her dad told her the same thing that Bob told me.

Neither of my kids seem too broken up over it. I thought maybe since this was death, it was permanent, they might have some remorse. I thought that since there would be no do-overs and no second chance to try to set things straight they might be a little teary eyed. Instead, Picasso told me that he might have been sad at one point but since she “decided to back young CF” he wasn’t. Rock Star reiterated that actions have consequences and you don’t get to play the victim all your life. She made reference to the fact that her grandmother had helped her father leave her.

I won’t continue to push or get them to talk about it. They both seem to have made their peace with it. It’s a precarious spot to be in.

On one hand I don’t want people to think I’m letting them swing wildly in the wind with no guidance and no care for their mental health. On the other hand if they really are at peace with it me demanding they talk about it and feel something they don’t isn’t going to do them any good.

I did tell Rock Star that if her dad started guilting her to pass the texts along to me and I would handle it.

As for me I find it to be an almost out of body experience. For one, I never expected her to die. I have heard for years that she didn’t have much time left. Years. And yet every year there she was. It got to the point I figured it was CF playing the drama card. So first hearing that she had been admitted to the hospital, had coded and wasn’t expected to make it was startling. Then to get the news less than an hour later that she had died… I didn’t know what to feel.

I shouldn’t feel anything. This woman knew her son had cheated on me and continued to interact with the other woman, whining that she was family. When my husband was so sad and upset she urged his former whore to call him and rekindle things. She sat in my kitchen in April and told me she wanted us to get back to where we were, that she loved me and I had been her daughter-in-law for twenty years. She let me and the kids spend the night on our way back home from Utah when he was already involved with Harley; I know she had to have known at that point and yet she let us stay and kissed us and told us she loved us. We went out to eat and I hugged and kissed on the new baby and believed that things were getting back to normal. And all the while he was giving the whore money and making plans to be with her. She supported him leaving me and leaving his damn kids behind. She showed up to a funeral with CF and Harley, never pausing for a single moment to think that that situation was all kinds of fucked up. I know how she was when it came to her son; I don’t believe she ever spoke up and told him to make amends with his kids. I know she never told him he was wrong or that she didn’t support what he was doing. How could she? She encouraged it.

And yet I have twinges of sympathy for her when I think of the Christmas cards she sent both kids this year. My mother always likes to point out she could have come and seen them but she chose not to. She could have called or texted, but she chose not to. I, however, almost feel sorry for her and see the woman who wistfully told Picasso she would love to see him again. The woman who asked Rock Star how she was liking her senior year and told her she loved her and wanted so much to talk to her.

There is a part of me that remembers the woman I knew years ago. The woman who called to talk to me when CF let her know he was getting married, and ended up talking for over an hour. We would call each other and talk for an hour or more all the time. He used to joke that I talked to her more than he did. I remember feeling so lucky that I loved my in-laws and that we all got along so well. I remember the woman who said that she loved me and would tell me that she couldn’t have picked a better daughter-in-law if she had picked one out herself. I remember the woman who was so happy and accommodating at our wedding, who spoiled us with gifts and money. I remember the woman who loved my kids. I remember many trips to Kentucky to see her and the rest of the family, and how I would say that I could see us moving there and being around family.

I realize that person ceased to exist years ago. I’m sad about that. I’m also a little sad and maybe a little frustrated that, even though the possibility of it happening was remote, I will never have the chance to confront her. She will never see the damage she did. She will never get to witness the fallout of CF’s and Harley’s joyous union.

In those early days when the pain and humiliation were fresh I envisioned myself having a chance to spit out, “You traded your own flesh and blood for a whore and her four kids. Every time you look around your table at the holidays and see that my kids are missing you just tell yourself that Harley and her kids were worth losing them. And know that when you die your own two grandkids won’t be at your funeral. I hope Harley’s four are there crying for you, because my two won’t be.” I probably never would have said that given the chance. Sadly, what I fantasized about saying is now a reality.

Also sad? I’m sure I’ll be blamed for it. The story will be that CF’s kids weren’t allowed to come to the funeral; their mean, awful mom prevented it. I know it doesn’t matter. I don’t know most of those people. But who really likes having lies about them out there, especially when those lies make you look like a monster?

I worry, too, that with my kids not going that will be the so called final straw. I know his family has pretty much written them off anyway but at least in public they act like they are torn up about it. I hope there isn’t actual backlash against either of them because they chose not to attend. I’m sure in their grief all they can think about is how Rock Star and Picasso didn’t even care enough to show up for her funeral. They will completely sidestep the fact that none of them has cared at all about what they’ve gone through these last 2 1/2 years.

In the end none of you need to worry that I’m going out of my mind with grief for Tammy Faye. As my kids would say, she chose her path. It does make me a little sad to think of how things once were and to see where they ended. I’m sorry it ended this way with her estranged from her grandchildren. Yet on some level I know that I’m more regretful about it than they are.

A Conversation With Picasso

So often I feel like Picasso is my forgotten child. Rock Star came out like an explosion of fireworks- loud, screaming, demanding. Picasso was calm, serene, go with the flow. Rock Star has always liked to go, go, go! Picasso is more of a stay at home and play video games kinda kid. Rock Star is outgoing and a standout in so much of what she does; Picasso is much more behind the scenes and has a much harder time finding things he is passionate about. Rock Star is always wanting; she’s always asking for time, money, experiences, attention. Picasso exists in his own little world and it’s very easy to overlook him because his needs and wants are generally so small.

Anyway, I took him out to dinner one night while Rock Star was off doing whatever it was she was doing. I wondered if he had any idea that Tammy Faye had been in the hospital, or that she was back in the hospital. I wasn’t sure if Rock Star had passed along that message or not. Apparently, he was not in the know. His response upon finding out? Is it mean if I say that’s karma?

Each time I ask a child why they hold such animosity towards Tammy Faye (after all, she’s not the one that cheated on me or abandoned them) both of them point out that she fully supports CF and what has done and is doing. They are appalled by that. They realize, at their young ages, that she does not care that her son has wrought incredible pain and change into their lives. She has chosen her son over her grandchildren. So be it. Let the decision stand.

They aren’t even influenced by the fact she put this whole ball into motion when she urged the whore to call her precious boy, knowing their incestuous history. No, they are more upset by the fact that she knows and is okay with what he’s doing.

He also went on to say, “It’s okay, Mom; I always liked your side of the family better.” I thought that was kinda humorous but I was also interested in learning why. Honestly, I figured it would be the other way around.

He told me it was because whenever they were at my mom’s people came over and saw us; we went out and did things. People seemed interested in his life and they were eager to see us. When we were at Tammy Faye’s no one really went out of their way to see us and we basically sat around and did nothing.

To be fair Jezebel did always make it a point to come see us whenever we were in town. Usually  the visit either consisted of her coming over to her mom’s house, or having us over for dinner at her house. So it’s not that she never came over. Plus, a huge part of the reason we didn’t do much was because Tammy Faye was always sickly. She has had two hip replacement surgeries and has COPD. She’s been getting around on a scooter for probably the last ten years or so. That tends to limit where you can go.

My mom seemed incredulous. When we would visit her we would regularly take trips to Chicago, go to the beach, tour museums, go to the park. Hell, when she came out to visit us in Utah with my nephew, and my niece was already out there, we would go on vacation together. And definitely we would make it to the movies, to the amusement park, the water park, hiking, and all over.

The truth is we rarely did anything aside from going out to eat with CF’s side of the family. I remember Jezebel and I taking the kids to a movie once. We went to King’s Island together twice, and we went to a museum once. Jezebel did have us over to her apartment once or twice so the kids could go swimming. But mainly it was visiting at one of the houses, or going out to eat.

He once again pointed out that no one on his dad’s side really knows him, aside from his one aunt (the one who has made his dad’s enemies list). They don’t know what he’s into and what he likes and they don’t really care to go out of their way to find out.

Shockingly he told me he felt more at home and more comfortable with the mobster’s family when we saw them. He pointed out that they talked to him, took an interest in him, and asked him questions.

I thought that was quite insightful. I also think it’s probably very true. The mobster takes an interest in Picasso and what he’s doing. He tells him hello and asks him what he’s up to. He asks his opinion. He wants to know what Picasso is into. Now, this could be because he’s trying to impress me, but I don’t think so.

I’ve said before that none of them try to contact the kids. They do most of their communication on Facebook and Instagram so they can show everyone how wonderful they are. No one on his side of the family has picked up a phone and called either kid. None of them have even really texted either kid, until Tammy Faye was in the hospital and Rock Star got the guilt text. No, they are pretty much out of sight, out of mind. Tammy Faye did write a nice Christmas card to both of them where she told them how much she missed them and wished she could see them.

How does this conversation end? Honestly, I don’t remember. Picasso said what he wanted to say; I listened, and then we went back to eating our food. Tell me again how affairs are private matters between two people only. Sure doesn’t look like it from where I’m sitting.

More Musings On His Delusional Text

I’m not going to dwell on this too much because it doesn’t deserve anymore of my time. There were a few things I wanted to touch on though, and I know the original post was getting quite long. I thought it would be much easier to break it up into at least two posts.

The mobster was losing his shit when I first told him about this. He was all set to call him and tell him to knock it off. He wanted me to march down to the police department and file a restraining order as well. He even thought about filing one.

I explained that none of that would make a difference. If anything it would either a. inflame the situation even further, or b. just give him a huge amount of kibbles. He’s not central in my life. Why let him think he is?

My brother was a lot more restrained and I think that helped to reign in the mobster. Document, document, document. Oh, he did tell me I need to get my license to carry and buy a gun and start going to the range. That’s on my To Do list for the weekend. It looks like this:

1. Put my clothes away
2. Do laundry (yes, those really are two separate things and I can stand to put clothes away before I actually do laundry)
3. Get my liquor license so I can bartend on weekends
4. Pick up the house
5. Write a couple blog posts
6. Do something with my kids
7. Get my license to carry
8. Buy a gun
9. Respond to blog comments and FB messages

Fun stuff, huh?

Maybe I’m stupid or sticking my head in the sand, but I’m really not that worried. He hasn’t seen his kids in almost 2 years. He supposedly can’t drive once again, according to his court testimony. He can only drive 6 hours for pussy and murder? I doubt it. Pussy? Obviously. Murder? He’s too lazy to make the effort.

My sister-in-law did talk to a retired police officer she knows about the situation and I’ve been told I can file a report for the harassment he’s been doing, and then seek a no contact order through the courts. I was a little surprised because the rant was to his sister, not me. He didn’t seem overly concerned or think that I was in imminent danger.

My brother has said pretty much the same thing. As long as he’s with Harley I should be safe. If Harley dumps him once the money runs out he thinks I might want to keep a closer watch over my shoulder.

I’ve always thought that if he was going to try to kill me (yes, it has crossed my mind- I used to watch a lot of ID TV) that he would either shoot me from a distance, or he would hire someone. I remember him telling me stories of how he had shot people in Iraq from quite some distance, and much like he’s practically a Ranger, he’s also practically a trained sniper. And a hired hit man? Well, it certainly keeps his hands clean. He is the smartest man you’ll ever come across so he undoubtedly would believe that would be a fail proof plan. My brother, however, doesn’t think CF would try to shoot me from some distance away; nor does he think he would hire someone. If it ever comes to that he believes it will be up close and personal. He’ll either shoot me or potentially stab me. Either way it will be face to face. Or so he believes. Which is why I’m supposed to get a gun and carry it with me at all times. And spend plenty of time at the range.

I also contacted my lawyer to let her know what was going on and to get her opinion. I let her know I had proof he was the one who hacked my account. I told her about the email lists I’m pretty sure he’s signing me up for. I told her about the message to his sister and read a few key parts. She asked me if I was afraid for my life and I told her I wasn’t. She said she could send an email to his attorney and tell her I was going to file a police report if he didn’t knock it off, but that I would be tipping my hand. He probably wouldn’t stop; he would just go further underground and not contact anyone he knew I was communicating with. If he really was going to come after me it would be best if he was doing everything in the open, none the wiser, and I could keep an eye on him somewhat, at least through other people.

Having spent a good many years watching Criminal Minds, and reading books about killers, I am also well aware that people can become unhinged after a stressor in their life. With Tammy Faye being sick and almost dying I do sometimes worry that the loss of his mother will send him around the bend. It’s not an overwhelming fear, but the thought is there. I will be vigilant if it happens.

I know he’s concocted this alternate reality where I’m the villain and he’s the victim. I’m a money hungry, parental alienating monster that emotionally abused him, dismissed his mental health issues, treated him like an ATM machine, and never loved him or took care of him. I pretty much drove him into Harley’s arms. And now I’m destroying another woman’s happy home, causing their children endless amounts of pain because I’ve decided to steal their father for my very own.

Most of it I shrug off. I know the truth. I also know that trying to defend myself against his wild, delusional accusations will all be for naught. He is always the victim. He’s done nothing wrong.

I know that his sister did not help me. We had maybe four or five conversations throughout the entire divorce. I clearly remember the first one because it was right after she sent me the message telling me she would always consider me family, and her saying that all he had told her was that I had filed for divorce and he didn’t know why. You can bet your ass I called her up and set the record straight. Oh hell no! He was not going to get to act like the victim.

I remember talking to her at least one other time where she told me he had told her I had thrown all of his things away and I refused to let him take anything from the house.

Aside from that it was a random, “Happy New Year” or “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Mother’s Day” text. Hardly earth shattering and ultimate betrayal type stuff. Certainly not bad enough to be put on a very exclusive enemies list!

She told him from the beginning that he was going to pay a very steep price for leaving me after twenty years of marriage and me being a stay at home mom who had followed him all over the country. I already knew that; it was certainly nothing she clued me in to. I had talked to a lawyer two days after finding out what he was up to. I knew what I was entitled to. He’s the one that didn’t believe her. He’s the one that didn’t do his homework and then lied to his attorney so he wasn’t given the full picture of what he would be paying.

I don’t regret my relationship with the mobster at all. I do regret the fact that I gave Cousinfucker even a tiny little opening to assuage his guilt, if it can even be called that. Sociopaths don’t have guilt.

He can use the fact that two years after he’s caught cheating on me I am finally with someone who treats me the way he should have all those years, and try to twist it as though I’m doing the exact same thing he did. Between him and Batshit Crazy they can convince themselves that I’m a man stealing home wrecker. He can try to sell this idea that I deserved every shitty thing he did to me because I’m a home wrecking whore, not some innocent victim.

It bothers me a little bit. Because I have a conscience! But overall, I’m good. I know the truth. I know that both of us were living separately from our cheating spouses who were living with their affair partners. I know that both of us were already into the divorce process before we met.

Unlike CF and Harley I never posted about me and the mobster on social media. I never talked about our relationship to anyone who knew CF. I was perfectly content for the mobster to be a secret from CF forever. Let him think I was miserable and alone. He found out about it when he hacked my Facebook page. Sadly, short of me refusing to entertain the thought of any contact with another male for the almost 2 1/2 years it took for my divorce to be final, there was nothing I could have done. When we started texting I never planned for it to turn into what it did; I had no intentions of this turning into a relationship. I figured we would text a few times and that would be it. It would be platonic and probably short lived, seeing as how all it was was texting. I suppose that’s what CF thought I deserved- to be alone forever, pining for him and mourning the loss of my old life.

Believe me- I did pine. Never for him because I was done with him after he cheated again. I did mourn the loss of my old life. I mourned what happened to my children. I freaked out over my financial situation, especially considering Mr. Genius didn’t think paying support was a necessity. In the end though I did as Winston Churchill advised: I found myself in Hell and I just kept going. He can’t stand the fact that I didn’t fall apart, that he wasn’t able to destroy me. I think he’s really pissed that I have found someone else and that I’m happy. I think he wanted me to be alone and miserable for the rest of my life. Now that he realizes that’s not going to happen he’s enraged. I’m sure the fact that I won’t keep my mouth shut doesn’t help matters either.

Yes, I’ve poked the bear a bit. You know what? I’m going to keep poking when I feel like it. I’m going to keep posting my happy pictures of me and the mobster. CF and Harley got to do it for two years while I was living a nightmare. They were told constantly how happy they looked and how they deserved it. Happiness looks good on you! Love you both! You deserve happiness. Those were all comments I got to see, made to the two people who were engaged and living together, having demolished my life and the lives of my kids. Now it’s my turn. Suck it, buttercup! If you don’t want to see the happy couple then stay off my Facebook page.

I’m also going to text him next Wednesday if I don’t have a check by then. If he gets shitty with me? He’s going to get a text very similar to this:

Your behavior has caused me to repeatedly have to take legal action in order to get you to do the right thing. I would think what with you being a genius and all that you would be able to foresee the consequences of your poor behavior. 

I realize you don’t see it this way but I have been a dream ex-wife. I didn’t publicly out you or toss you out of the house. I don’t harass you. I don’t contact you. I have left you alone to live out your ultimate fantasy- living with your soul mate/cousin who brings you so much happiness, at one point working side by side with your best friend, and residing in Kentucky near your mommy and your sister so you can see them anytime you want. 

You wanted to pay bi-weekly instead of in a monthly lump sum; I agreed even though I didn’t need to. I have never demanded payment on the due date, or even harangued you for payment. And yet you continue to try to play games. You continue to try to mess with me, and by extension, your children. Very well. I can see that I will once again have to be the adult and put an end to this silliness. When your employer contacts you to let you know that you have a garnishment order against you, remember you brought this upon yourself.

That’s really what this all comes down to, doesn’t it? He’s pissed that he has to pay me sufficient support instead of that $1500/month bullshit he wanted.

So why am I not surprised that you support a disgusting whore and aided her in getting the maximum money possible from me.

Why do I not get the full credit for having made sure he paid the maximum money possible? And, not to pick but I do feel the need to make a point of clarification: I did not get the maximum amount possible. We asked for $4000 in spousal support alone; I got $2800. The judge could have imputed his wages at $236,000; he ignored the bonus and stock options and imputed at $170,000.

She never helped me with anything! Certainly not in obtaining “the maximum money possible”! She didn’t act as a character witness for me. She didn’t feed me incriminating information. She didn’t disown him. She simply remained in my life because she loves my kids.

No, he’s just mad because the judge didn’t buy his bullshit. He’s angry because he and Harley might feel the pinch finally, and the party is over. How dare I let him feel the impact of this divorce? How dare anyone hold him accountable for his shitty decisions and poor choices?

You know the really sad part? He did all of this because he deserved to be happy. In the end I’m the happy one. I had accepted that he might get away with financial rape. I had sadly accepted the fact that my lifestyle has taken a huge hit. As the mobster would ask, “Are we going to be happy?” The answer was a resounding, “Yes!” We’re going to live in that cardboard box and we’re going to beg on the streets and go for coffee later and we’re still going to be happy, because we’re together.

Compare that to CF and Harley. Together they bring home over $11,000 plus whatever she gets for child support. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that they have around $12,000/month to call their own. Once he pays me they still have at least $6700 left over (and I’m not counting her child support which she will get for at least another 8 years; I’m also not counting the times he gets paid three times a month). He still bitches and whines. Yes, he has to pay me a very large chunk of his salary. For now.

Why not look at it like this? First of all, he will get a “pay raise” in June and he will have anywhere from $400-$800 more to call his own. Conversely I will have $400-$800 LESS to call my own. In another three years he will be completely finished with child support and will be paying only $2800/month, or $1292.31 every other week. Meanwhile, I’m sure good ol’ Harley will get annual increases in salary. CF will get annual increases in salary, if he doesn’t flat out get another job. Sure, I can get an annual increase as well but seeing as how I make a fifth of what he makes and around a fourth of what she makes, it stands to reason my salary isn’t going to increase as quickly. Regardless, even if everything stayed the same, in a little over three years they would be living on approximately $8400/month while I live on less than $3600/month. Which one of us should be whining about money? I’m pretty sure it should be me but I’m not. He should be doing the happy dance but he’s not.

Second of all, does the genius not realize he can go out and get another job making up to $170,000 and it won’t affect his support at all? He was imputed at that income! If he were willing to move he could easily make anywhere from $1000-$3000 more per month and that would all go in his pocket. Or at least the family coffers.

The fact he made poor financial decisions throughout this entire process is not my problem. I guess he thought he would take it all and I would be left with nothing. Hey, according to him I wasn’t smart enough to figure out where the vast majority of the money was so he should be happy, right?

Joke’s on you, Cousinfucker; I don’t care if you squirreled money away. You’re still a miserable human being who will never be satisfied. You blew up an entire family for your happiness and you’re still unhappy. I’m living a whole different life and living on a whole lot less money but I’m the one who is happy. I’ve got my kids, my family and friends, my mobster, and my freedom. I’m good. No, I’m great. Suck it, you evil bastard.

 

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 1

January 2016

I wrote this shortly after I received the famous text from CF.  I never sent it.  It got to be way too long; I essentially vomited up twenty plus years of rage and frustration and I figure if I was lucky he might read two or three sentences.  Nonetheless, I’m quite proud of it and I thought I would share.  Most of this is undoubtedly a repeat of things I’ve already shared.  There’s only so much that happened in the beginning and since I don’t speak to him if I can help it I don’t get a lot of new material.  Anyway, here it is.  Enjoy!

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

I am not even sure where to begin with your long rambling text so I suppose I’ll begin with the obvious.  I’m not sure who you wrote that for but it wasn’t for my benefit.  Quite frankly, I’m not even sure you wrote it yourself. Secondly, you are not a victim so it would be refreshing if you could stop acting like one.  You are also not a hero so please stop acting like you’ve somehow done me a favor by cheating on me.  Again.

Do not patronize me with your “Let’s stop this foolishness and figure out a way to make this less stressful.”  Do you know how you could have made this less stressful?  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while you were married to me.  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while your children and I were on what was supposed to be a family vacation, a vacation (and family) you blew off so you could have sex with your cousin.  You could have refrained from moving me and your children 2000 miles across the country, uprooting our lives for *your* happiness, only to turn around and start up yet another affair with your cousin.  You could have been an adult and talked to me instead of turning to people who have never been there for you during your many crises.  You could have refrained from siphoning off thousands of dollars to your mistress while you lied about it and fed me a line of bullshit about it being for your mom.  You could have stood up and tried to act like a man instead of trying to convince yourself and everyone around you that you’re some hapless victim.  And as far as making this less stressful for everyone… what on earth about this is stressing you out?  You do whatever you want!  You live here during the week not caring whether there is enough in the bank account to pay bills or not, and then you take off every weekend to be with your mistress and her kids, spending money like it’s growing on trees and having yourself a fine time.

I have spent the last 2 years walking a tightrope for you, protecting you and being respectful of all your “issues”. I hid your affair from everyone in my family.  I let you get away with directing how I was allowed to heal.  I was even at the point where I was accepting the fact that your mom was going to continue to have a relationship with your mistress.  And what have you done?  You’ve thrown me under the bus time after time.  Not only that but you’ve actually had the audacity to act like you were somehow protecting me while throwing me under the bus! Half the time (if not more than half) you’ve told outright lies about me. Let’s not forget the biggie- you started screwing your cousin!  I don’t know why I continue to be amazed at how you can cheat on me, not once but twice (and with the same “woman” no less!) and yet still manage to act like you are the injured party.

To be continued…

 

I’ve Got You Under My Skin

Apparently I am robbing him blind! I got another check from Cousinfucker. Hooray! Let’s see if this one goes through before we celebrate. Another check for the child support portion. Nothing for spousal support. I guess he has absolved himself of paying spousal support. He doesn’t wanna so he’s not gonna!

The best part is he wrote the check on our anniversary. Nothing like paying out almost a grand to celebrate. Happy Anniversary, Cousinfucker!

I was wondering if I would get another grinch on my envelope. If not a grinch, what other mischievous Christmas character? Oh, he hit it out of the ballpark this time. He completely went off script and decided to go with this:

That’s right, everyone! I’m robbing him blind because he’s having to pay me child support! Table support instead of the bullshit $800 he wanted to pay. Again, he’s not paying spousal support! He has declined to pay. He’s paying roughly what he would have been paying had he actually sent his four checks of $555.55 or $575. Actually, he’s paying less! Child support, people! He resents having to pay support for his own children.

He is so childish. The part that really galls me, though, is the fact that his lawyer asked if he could pay bi-weekly since that is how he gets paid. I agreed to it. I don’t care when I get paid so long as I do get paid. He can pay me all of it on the 1st, half on the 1st and half on the 15th, 25% each week, or break the yearly payments into 26 payments and pay them out every other week. I truly don’t care and so I agreed to what he wanted. I cut that sonofabitch a break, despite the fact that he doesn’t deserve a damn thing from me. In return he and/or the whore-bitch spit in my face.

I probably sound more upset than I really am. Yes, I continue to be amazed at their level of childishness but he can put whatever he wants on the envelopes so long as he continues to send me my money. Next step, of course, will be sending me the correct amount of money. Congrats! You’ve paid child support this month. You’re still $2800 behind on your spousal support obligation.

Then to up the ante I got a text from him. First time he’s texted since Rock Star got hurt way back in July.

Your attorney just gave me permission to take money out of MY 401(k) to pay the arrearage. Figured I should tell you since you have such a watchful eye on MY money.

BAER.  That’s Big Ass Eye Roll. Can you see it? So many things I’d like to say in reply.

1. Don’t flatter yourself.
2. Poor planning on your part does not necessitate an emergency on mine.
3. Tell it to the judge.
4. So you’ll have the check in the mail by Monday?
5. Can I be expecting the $25,000 you owe me in attorney fees as well when you get into that money?
6. Terrific! Now your kids can have a decent Christmas. 6a. Or do you begrudge them that because it’s all supposed to go to your fake kids and your whore?
7. I believe you meant to say MARITAL ASSETS. 7a. You’re welcome, btw. I moved all over the damn country and gave up countless lives to follow your unhappy little ass as you moved up the corporate ladder.
8. Look, Jackass, it’s called discovery. I haven’t been keeping watch on anything except that which is rightfully mine. You’ve had the exact same access to my finances.
9. I wouldn’t have to “keep an eye on your finances” if you did what you were supposed to do, i.e. paying your fucking support as ordered, and if you weren’t such a fucking liar and cheat. Have you forgotten the 401k you liquidated at the same time you were crying poverty? Bet you and Harley and her kids went someplace nice, bought something great, did something awesome. While your own kids suffered. Or the fact that you took out $50,000 instead of the $28,800 plus taxes you owed me? So yeah, I’m keeping an eye on you until I get what is legally and rightfully mine. Deal with it.
10. You are not entitled to spend marital assets in any manner you wish, especially not on a whore and her kids. You are not entitled to list the whore as your beneficiary when you are still married to me. If this upsets you, deal with it, you big fucking crybaby. If you overspent when you shouldn’t have because you were in the middle of a legal proceeding then that is your problem. I didn’t do that to you. You did it to yourself.
11. Cry me a fucking river.
12. They’re called consequences. They are what happen when you dismantle a 20 year marriage for a whore.
13. Did you really think the judge was going to buy your bullshit?
14. I cry every day because you’re no longer in my life. I miss you sooooo much. Oh God, I can’t even type that out with a straight face. I burst out laughing.
15. Awww… what’s the matter? Are you shocked that I no longer roll over and let you do whatever you want? As your wife I was pretty much, “Whatever you want, CF,” to keep the peace. I’m no longer your wife so I have no reason to placate you.
16. Did you seriously think you were going to walk away with your finances intact? I’m thinking you’re not as smart as you think you are.
17. You not happy? I thought Harley made you happy. Why don’t you go home, grab her, bend her over the couch and fuck her hard? Then while you’re driving into her balls deep you can scream out loud, “God, Harley, this pussy is sooooo worth $4600 a month! And my kids.” Yes, let’s not forget you tossed your kids aside for this whore. Hey, you got a couple of new ones, though, so it’s a wash.
18. If you think you’re pissed off now just wait until you find out I’ve garnished your wages!
19. No, everything you made up until this point is OURS. Everything you make from here on out is YOURS. Or Harley’s. Probably Harley’s. Good luck; you’re going to need it.
20. I’m keeping an eye on you and your finances? I’m not the one hacking your Facebook page and sending nasty text messages to your whore. Who’s keeping an eye on who?
21. Thanks!
22. 
23. 

As the mobster likes to tell me: You are really getting under his skin.

You know what the funny part is? If he’d simply pay his court ordered support he’d never hear from me. Hell, he doesn’t hear from me anyway. I just email my lawyer and tell her he’s not paying and she begins filing for a show-cause hearing. He could go off with the new love of his life/soul mate and his brand new kids, living down in Kentucky right by his fucked up cheater sister and his witless mother both of whom set him and his cousin up and unintentionally set in motion his financial destruction.

I don’t want to communicate with him. I don’t care what he’s doing. Give me my damn money and you can do whatever the hell you want!

He’s the one that drags this out. He’s the one that continues to do whatever the hell he wants, despite what the judge has ordered.

If he was the one that hacked my Facebook page I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it set him off to find out that I wasn’t pining for him and wasn’t unhappy. I don’t know if he expected me to be by myself forever either because I was simply too hideous for anyone else to love or want, or if it just bruised his ego that I got over him and moved on with someone else. They were probably laughing it up, thinking that I was all alone and miserable and lo and behold! Oh shit! Sam’s happy! She’s got an amazing new man in her life. Where in the hell did this guy come from?

Then add to that the fact he got reamed by the judge in his ruling. I would like to think that things aren’t happy around the Cousinfucker/whore household right now. He’s pissed because he owes me a lot of money. She’s pissed because she thought he was going to be dropping a lot of money on her and her kids. Merry Christmas!

Oh it has been quite the journey but the payoff is definitely worth it. Now seriously, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being no big deal and 10 being his head explodes, how mad do you think he’s going to be when he finds out I’ve garnished his wages?

2015 Wrap Up

December 2015

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.