Another Take On Graduation Weekend

Obviously this was written before she went on her texting spree. I’m finding it hard to muster any sympathy for her now. I’ll write tomorrow about the second text she sent, soon after she sent the first text.

I wrote earlier about the mobster’s ex crying at the party. I don’t know anything about it except what I was told, and that’s not a lot. I never saw her crying. I’m also fully aware that the woman, much like CF, is a professional victim so I take her tears with a grain of salt.

I suppose that the mobster and I had a chance to switch places this weekend. Last year it was him feeling somewhat sorry for my ex because it shouldn’t have been that way. He shouldn’t have been sitting by himself, away from the rest of the family. We should have been together as husband and wife, celebrating with our extended family the graduation of our smart, beautiful, talented daughter. At least according to the mobster.

I get it. CF shouldn’t necessarily be pitied because he chose this, but the situation is sad. It shouldn’t have been like that. It’s a situation that should never have occurred. But because he made really bad choices there were consequences; the fact he made those bad choices is sad. The fallout to his kids is sad.

I think, too, that for most of the population who has a heart it can be hard to see a person suffer, even if they are suffering due to consequences levied because of their own behavior. I’m not a heartless person. The mobster is not a heartless person. Therefore, when we see a person suffering it is difficult to rejoice even when that person has brought the suffering upon themselves.

I don’t generally feel sorry for the mobster’s ex. She chose to drink. She chose to ignore the help offered at every turn. She chose to cheat. She chose to lie. She chose to walk out on the mobster and their kids. She helped turn their lives upside down in every way imaginable.

Yet I understand what the mobster felt when he attended Rock Star’s graduation. It’s a sad situation. It never had to be like that.

For all of the snarky, condescending things I could have said to her what I think I really would have said, given the chance would be this:

How could you give all this up? He loved you. He adored you. He never would have given up on you. I never would have been here if you had done what you were supposed to.

Do you have any idea how many times I have felt like I couldn’t compete with the memories the two of you made together? You were a family.

He did so many things for you. He bought you a new stove when you got out of rehab because you loved to cook. He bought you roses and painted cityscapes on snow banks.

He worshiped you. He didn’t want a divorce. He wanted you to get better and to be the woman he married so long ago. If you hadn’t made the boneheaded choices you made along the way there would have been no room for me. He defended you at all costs. He was willing to separate himself from his family for you. You always took precedence. He even valued your well-being over that of your children. You were always the first priority. He was a man who absolutely believed that you leave your family and become one with your spouse. He absolutely believed his wife came before anything. He lived that and you didn’t appreciate it one little bit. You took it for granted.

You had a beautiful home back in New Hampshire. You had a pool. You had four amazing kids that loved you. Your husband worked hard to support you and those kids so that you could stay at home and take care of them and homeschool them. Do you have any idea what a gift that was? Yet you threw it all away- first with the drinking, and then with the cheating. He even forgave you but you continued with both.

The ex in my situation provided for us financially but that’s about all I can say for him. He didn’t run around doing sweet, romantic things for me. He didn’t want to participate in family life. He had no interest in doing things with me as a couple. It was like pulling teeth to get him to do things with us. Surprise me with a new stove? Hell, show up unexpectedly with flowers? Never in a million years. He bought me some nice Christmas presents but he never went that extra mile, like the mobster did for you. I could barely get him to participate in date night.

If I had had your life I never would have messed it up the way you did. I would have been so grateful to have a man who loved me, who spoiled me, who put me first, and who wanted to be a partner and a family man. You had all of that and you threw it away like it was nothing.

I don’t hate you; I pity you. You had everything and you didn’t appreciate a bit of it. Now you’re finding out the grass isn’t greener and that must really suck. But I didn’t do that to you. You did it to yourself.

It should have been a happy day. T shouldn’t have had to deal with her mom showing up to her graduation drunk. She shouldn’t have to worry about conflict between her mom and her dad’s girlfriend. She shouldn’t have to hear her friends make jokes about me being the good mom because the reality is I’m not the mom. No matter how much she may come to love me, no matter how big of a role I may end up playing in her life, I am not her mom and that is a loss she will always feel. That beautiful young woman deserves a mother who is fully present and can participate in her life with her, not show up on the outskirts of it.

Her sons shouldn’t dread having to go outside to talk to her. For the most part they stayed away from her. Their girlfriends or wives shouldn’t dread seeing her, or completely dislike her because of her odious behavior. Yet that is a reality. She has failed all of them in astounding ways.

And you know what? It makes me sad. It makes the mobster sad. He never wanted any of this. He wanted to raise his kids in a two parent family and grow old with the woman he married. It’s the difference between what should have been and what is. He tells me he is so much happier and he should have divorced her sooner; yet, he wishes it didn’t have to be that way. In a perfect world both of our spouses would have done right by us, and right by our children. We’d be happily married to the people we chose over twenty years ago. Unfortunately, that’s not our reality.

The mobster’s reality is that his wife walked out and she walked away from her kids and any responsibility she might have had. On one hand she was bawling and carrying on; on the other hand she was walking around the place like she owned it. She was in many respects an outcast at her own daughter’s party while I was busy setting up and preparing food. Yet, she felt entitled to bring her boyfriend, the man she was fucking behind her husband’s back, to the party the mobster was throwing and paying for. Her kids reluctantly went outside to talk to her. His family awkwardly made conversation with her. The day of the breakfast she sat outside with no one unless her sister was with her. She had to deal with seeing me walking around her old home, fixing myself a cup of coffee and playing hostess. She had to deal with the knowledge that her sister and brother-in-law were spending the night in the same house as the mobster and I were. None of this would have been palatable to me if the roles were reversed. So I have a bit of sympathy for her in that regard. However, I also know she was sending the mobster messages telling him she hoped he went to hell the night before the party. I know she loves to play the victim, just like my ex. I know she’s manipulative and lies. Quite honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if none of this bothers her. Oh, I can believe it bothers her she’s not the center of attention, and that her kids aren’t fawning over her. But I don’t think she really cares about everything she lost. If the mobster were still mourning her and begging her to come back… if her kids were still begging her for attention… if everyone had made all over her and acted like they were so happy to see her… she wouldn’t have shed a tear. She wouldn’t have given a single thought to everything she discarded.

If I’m completely honest I’m pissed that she threw this all away so easily. Perhaps she simply figured that he would always be there. He would endure endless amounts of her shit to keep her in his life. I don’t know. What I do know is she got to live the life I always wanted. She got the four kids I wanted and was denied. She had someone who loved her, who put her first, and who always defended her no matter what. CF didn’t do that. He threw me under the bus every chance he got. She had someone who wanted to do things with her and do things as a family. Again, CF didn’t do that. It was rare. The mobster gave up a seven figure profit sharing plan and a lot of money in order to be there for his kids. To this day they are his pride and joy and he doesn’t regret giving that up one little bit (although he does say it would be nice to have that profit sharing right about now).

I also know she brought all this on herself when she walked out. In the end, I guess I don’t feel all that bad for her. I mean, I do when I think about it from my perspective. Her kids want nothing to do with her. She’s lost the most amazing man. But then I remind myself she doesn’t think the way I think. What’s important to me or to the mobster, isn’t what’s important to her. She made her choices and she gets to live with them. As Justin Timberlake would say, “Cry me a river.”

Going Home

Our plane landed in Vegas at 9:15, Pacific time. By the time we got the rental car and were on the road to Utah it was 10:30. Rock Star slept most of the 3 hour drive and I couldn’t figure out how the radio worked so I drove in dark silence. As I drove I thought about our upcoming trip in June. The one the mobster is coming on with us.

I thought about all the different restaurants and hangouts I want to share with him, all the places I want to take him to. I began thinking about the beautiful scenery in Logan where my son would play hockey once a season. I was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t do that because it’s a 2 hour drive one way, and we’ll only be in town for a long weekend. Then I thought about how Picasso no longer gets to play hockey, thanks to CF and his selfishness. And then another thought hit me. One that almost knocked the breath out of me for a moment.

This is the first time I’ve been back since he imploded our lives. It’s been almost three years now. Granted, I’m not back in our city; we’re actually about 3 1/2 hours south of the town we called home for eight years. Still, it’s the first time I’ve been back to Utah since the bomb dropped on us. First time I’ve been back since my husband cheated on me and left me for his cousin. First time I’ve been back since losing everything and watching our standard of living circle the drain. First time I’ve been back as a divorced woman. First time I’ve been back living this new, foreign life.

It shook me. In all honesty what led to this was me thinking about how sad I was for Picasso because he couldn’t play hockey anymore; then I imagined myself dissolving into hysterical sobs as I thought of all the discarded parts of my life that I had loved and had left behind. For him. How it was all gone now.

I imagined myself showing the mobster all of these wonderful places and introducing him to my fantastic friends, and in doing so, realizing how much that selfish sonofabitch took from us.

I let myself feel it all for a moment. It is a big loss. We left it all behind for this supposed “better life” only to find out we had been mercilessly conned.

After allowing myself to feel the sadness, the anger, the heartbreak, the fury, I gave myself a pep talk.

Yes, Sam, you had a great life out here. It’s a shame he didn’t leave before he moved you and the kids 2000 miles away. Unfortunately, that life is over. Here’s the good news, though. He didn’t take it away completely. You and your kids had eight fantastic years worth of memories. You can come back whenever you want and hang out at all your favorite spots. Your friends still love you. You continue to have relationships with them, even 1500-2000 miles away. You and the kids are loved and missed, and welcomed back with open arms. He couldn’t destroy that. He couldn’t destroy you.

Just like that the sorrow left. I smiled in the darkness; as I passed the sign welcoming me to Utah I shouted out, “I’m back!”

When the Truth & Your Spouse Don’t Exist On the Same Planet

February 2015

Let me begin by saying my husband is home finally. I’m thankful for that. He also says he thinks his time there did him some good. No, we haven’t talked about my page or his belief I’m going to leave him. I guess at some point we’re going to have to. It’s difficult finding a good time. When he’s depressed and anxious I don’t feel like I can say anything because I don’t want to pile on. When everything is good I don’t want to bring it up and spoil the good times.

I’ve been reading a lot about acceptance and moving on from the affair. A lot of what they say makes sense. But here’s where I get stuck. I don’t feel like I’ve ever had all of my questions answered honestly. It’s been vague and half truths, trickle truth. Did you talk to her on the phone often? No. Turns out he called her every morning on his drive into work. Did you tell her you loved her before Jezebel’s wedding? Did you say I love you immediately? No, to both. Turns out they were talking about marriage and he was telling people he was going to marry her before he even half-assed confessed to me less than 2 weeks after it started. Why did her husband think I needed a lawyer? I don’t know. Turns out it was because they were talking about leaving their spouses and getting married. Did you have plans to meet up? No. Turns out he was going to bring her with him to get his tattoo. And she was going to get one, too. Hell, his entire first confession was a lie. The only part that was true was the fact he was texting Harley.

How can I honestly say I believe him when he lies to me? When he refuses to give me straight answers? When he lies to his sister about me? It’s like after 20 years with the man I finally realize that he and the truth don’t exist on the same planet. So again, how do you believe someone that looks you in the eye and just lies?

How do you go on and put it behind you when everyone in his family is still in contact with Harley and they all love her and fawn over her? She has a window into our lives. And that’s assuming they’re not actually fucking around again.

I buried my head in the sand before. I tried to come up with explanations for things that made no sense. Well this time around here’s what doesn’t make sense. I know that their plan was to move him closer, move us closer, so they could be together. I don’t have specifics because, of course, he couldn’t remember, or kept it deliberately vague. The plan as far as I know was to move closer so he could fuck his whore on the weekends and have his kids with him full time with me playing nanny, maid, and cook. We’ve moved closer. At the same time we were buying a house it became clear things weren’t going well with her and her husband. For all I know she deliberately left her page public for me so that when she locked it down again I would be suspicious. But, we buy a house as it seems she’s heading for divorce. He tries to keep me off the deed. I have a meltdown. He has a meltdown. Was it real or was he keeping it together for her? We move. Within 5 months she’s liking my MIL’s status where she says if you have a handsome son… Then she’s liking her status when she asks for prayers for him. Am I really expected to ignore that as coincidence? It wasn’t coincidence last time.

Again, I ask, how do you put it all behind you and focus on this fucking future everyone speaks of when she’s never gone? When so many things come up that are suspicious?

The only thing I have to cling to is what others tell me. His mom telling me he thinks I’m going to leave him and that I haven’t forgiven him. His sane sister telling me he loves me and he’s scared to death of me leaving him. Him, when he’s drunk, telling me I’m his rock, his savior, his everything. He credits me with saving him.

I try to focus on that but I don’t want to be taken for a fool. I have no desire to be blindsided. So I remain vigilant.

Present Day Sam Says:  You have no idea how difficult it was to write this: It’s like after 20 years with the man I finally realize that he and the truth don’t exist on the same planet.  It was heart wrenching.  It was facing a truth I didn’t want to face and so I spackled over it yet again.  I’m saying the words but I refuse to believe them.  All those “coincidences” probably weren’t a coincidence at all.  They probably were in contact, or at least Tammy Faye had suggested it.  The sad part is what I wrote is so true.  He doesn’t exist on the same planet as the truth.  He lies constantly.  He rewrites history.  He makes shit up.  It’s scary to see where I realized that and then shut the door on it so that I could live my so-called perfect little life with an intact family.

I’m Gonna Harden My Heart

December 2014

I finally figured out what it is that bothers me so much. I’ve been trying to put it into a short, concise description for over a year now and I think I’ve finally got it. It was never that I thought anyone would turn their back on Zack and tell him they were choosing me. I never expected that to happen. It’s more of an overwhelming sadness to realize I loved these people; I considered them to be just as much my family as my actual family. I drove to see them. I wrote checks out to them. I bought the gifts, made contact, talked to them more than he did. And yet, when he decided to trade me in for a different model, let’s call it the whore model, none of them gave a shit. None of them remembered my name or all that I had done. So, I’m sad and I’m disappointed that I was tossed aside so easily for that whore. I’m sad that I was so abruptly reminded that they are NOT my family. I no longer love them. I no longer consider them to be my family; they are strictly Zack’s family. I am indifferent to them. I do not wish ill upon them; I just don’t care. When bad things happen to them I do not mourn for them. When good things happen I do not celebrate with them. I’m meh about it all. And to a certain extent that makes me sad because, as I said, at one point I really loved them and I enjoyed being around them. I loved the fact that I got along with my in-laws so well. Now that’s over. They showed me that once Zack was done with me they were, too. Nothing I did mattered. So now I figure why bother? I didn’t think he’d cheat before, but he did. I’d be an idiot to believe he would never cheat again. And once again, they wouldn’t know my name. Let’s just cut to the chase and forget pretending you care about me. We’ll be cordial. We’ll be civil. But that’s it. I’ll never make the mistake again of claiming any of them as my family. I’ll never again make the mistake of thinking they give a damn about me.

Present Day Sam Says: You better start calling me Prophet Sam! Did I call that or what? I’d be an idiot to believe he would never cheat again. D’oh! He did! He did cheat again. Good thing I never fully trusted him or believed he would never do that to me again. And once again they wouldn’t know my name. Double d’oh! They have completely replaced me and forgotten about me. Well, I’m assuming I’m forgotten unless they are telling him how awful and unreasonable I am. I’m sure there’s a healthy dose of that going on.

I regret softening and beginning to ease back into a relationship with them. I wish I had cut them out completely and held fast. But I am proud of myself for never trusting any of them again. None of them were worth it.

What If There Is No Life To Gain?

I wrote this post a few days ago. I actually rewrote it because the first edition was enough to make me want to slit my wrists. It was really pitiful. Believe it or not this is the sunnier version and it’s still not all that sunny. I wanted to post it anyway because despite having a fairly decent weekend, and despite having a more hopeful disposition in the past 24 hours, I spend most of my life feeling the way the post describes. Who knows? Maybe a change is a comin’. That would be delightful. For today, however, you’re left with this.

The motto over on Chump Lady is, “Leave a cheater, gain a life.” I’ve read many inspirational stories about people who have done just that. They’ve received promotions, went back to school, finished Masters or PhD programs, traveled, done fun things with their kids, remodeled or bought houses, got a new family pet, took back their lives, stopped walking on eggshells, found out that life without the cheater was fantastic, etc.  Good for them. Sincerely. These are the questions I’m always left wondering:  Did you have a job when you got divorced? How old were you when this happened? How long had you been married? Did you lose everything when you got divorced? Did you have to sell off all your furniture and belongings and leave whatever you couldn’t sell behind? Were you moved across the country and then forced out of your house, forced to move hundreds of miles once again, or do you still live in the same city? Did you have to yank your kids out of their schools once again and make them start all over? Did you move in with your mother or father or some other relative that took pity on you because without them you’d be homeless? Were you left with nothing but debt? Did your shithead ex quit his or her job after 15 years of making 6 figures and leave you destitute? Did a judge take pity on them and slash their support obligation by almost half? Were you old, fat and pretty much used up when they left for the shiny new whore?

I try very hard to hold on to that inspiration. To this belief that there is a new life out there to gain. A better life. One that will be so good that I won’t miss anything about my old life. But honestly? There is absolutely nothing that I find appealing about this new life I’m living. Believe me- I would love to say those words I just wrote: I have created a new life for myself and it is so much better than anything I lived with Cousinfucker. But the fact of the matter is, despite that 14 part bitch list I shared, I wasn’t unhappy.

I had things I enjoyed doing- Bunko, PTA, Teacher Appreciation, hockey and gymnastics for my kids. I got to travel for gymnastics meets, go shopping and buy whatever I wanted within reason, get my hair colored and cut at an actual salon instead of out of a crappy box and Great Clips. I knew lots of people. I had fantastic neighbors. I carpooled. I had lunch with friends. Hell, I had friends. I kept busy. I was able to go to all of my kids’ events. I drove them around everywhere. They were my life.

My husband wasn’t much of a partner or a father, but the kids and I got along without him. And he did join us occasionally, especially right after he was caught in his first affair. I figured out a way to be happy and fulfilled even if I didn’t have a husband who wanted to do everything with me and be by my side every minute of every day. I liked my old life, especially the one I had before we moved to Whoreville.

Now my life consists of drudgery. I work and I sleep and if I’m very very lucky I run my kids around. That’s it. I work approximately 55 hours a week. I work 6 days out of seven on a regular basis. I begin my day at 3:20 am, leave the house at 3:45 and get home sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 4 days out of 5. I dread pretty much every single day because it’s just more of the same- get up at an ungodly hour, go to work, come home, take Rock Star to school, head back home to get ready for the second job, go to work, come home, repeat. Also, make sure you’re in bed before 9 unless you’ve got to pick up a kid from a game or work. In between getting home from work and going to bed I enjoy the following fun activities: emailing teachers and/or counselors, making sure we still qualify for Medicaid, filing taxes, doing laundry, cleaning the bedroom, shampooing carpets, washing dishes, making dinner, feeding and watering the dogs, picking up Rock Star from practice, taking her and picking her up from work, and taking out the trash.

I know I should feel inspired by the stories on Chump Lady but I don’t. Every time I read them it’s like a kick in the gut once again. Promotion? Career thriving?  Making more money than I ever did when with the cheater? I didn’t even have a fucking job! I hadn’t worked outside of the home since early 1998! My big accomplishment was getting a seasonal part-time job that paid me $10.50-$11 an hour. I followed that up with getting a full-time job that also paid an amazing $11/hour. The kids and I live on approximately 15% of what we used to live on. It sucks. I hate being poor. The reality is he waited until I was middle aged and out of the workforce for far too long before he left. I don’t think I will ever get even close to living the same kind of life. I’m not sure I’ll ever even get to the point where I only have to work ONE job as opposed to two. There are not a lot of job opportunities for middle aged women who are starting over at the very bottom. Plus, we’ve already established that I suck at my new job so it’s not like this is going to lead anyplace.

Traveling? Having fun with my kids? I don’t have any money! Where the fuck am I going to travel? Hop in the car, kids! We’ll take a drive down the road, cross the state line and call it a vacation! Or maybe I’ll take them to Steak-n-Shake and we can get one of their $5 meal deals. No milkshakes, kids; Mommy is poor and Daddy is busy faking PTSD so that when he finally gets a job all of his money can go to his whore and her kids.

I remember one woman saying she created a scrapbook of things she and her kids had done since the divorce. I seldom do fun things with my kids anymore; again, I don’t have the money. Or the time. I also rarely see them anymore. Picasso is usually holed up in his room playing video games with his friends but even if he wasn’t I wouldn’t be around. Between my schedule and Rock Star’s schedule driving her to school and to work are about the only times I get to see her. Thank you, Cousinfucker, for ensuring that the last 2 years that my daughter lives at home I never get to see her. You chose to abandon her. I didn’t. And yet I’m the one that gets to continually pay for your choices.

Remodeling a house? Buying one on my own? Don’t. Make. Me. Laugh. I live with my mother, for crying out loud. If I didn’t we would be homeless. I’m not joking. I don’t make anywhere close to enough to pay rent somewhere, much less rent and utilities.

Finishing a Masters or PhD program? Snort. When exactly would I have time to go back to school between the two jobs and raising my kids? Something would have to give. It couldn’t be the jobs because I need those to pay my bills, take care of my kids, and pay for this magical schooling. Plus, I’m almost 48. I need to carefully consider whether or not someone would be willing to hire someone at my age fresh out of school. Getting discarded in your late 40s holds a few more challenges than being discarded in your 20s and 30s. Not as bad as being discarded in your 50s and 60s, I suppose, but still not a great position.

No longer walking on eggshells? Life being so much easier and stress free now that the cheater is gone? Pshaw! I have an uncanny ability to put up with tons of bullshit. It’s not like we ever walked on eggshells around Cousinfucker. If he was in a mood I just ignored him and left him to his own devices. He was probably sexting whores but I didn’t know that at the time. I just went along my merry way, doing my own thing while he pouted and sexted. I would say that this new life is the more difficult and stressful one.

Someone else said she took spin classes and met up with friends when her child was gone. After already putting in a 14 hour day I’m in no mood to do any exercise of any kind. Not spin class. Not yoga. Not aerobics. Nothing. Maybe, possibly, I might enjoy a good ol’ boxing or kickboxing class IF I can pin a picture of Cousinfucker and Harley on the bag and proceed to kick the shit out of it. Honestly, though? I’m probably too fucking tired to even do that. It all sounds great. Oh yeah, after work I’m going to lace up my running shoes and run 3 miles. Or, I’ll hit the yoga studio. Or, I’ll pretend I’m beating Cousinfucker and Harley to a fucking pulp at kickboxing class. The reality is that time kicks your ass. When you’re getting up at 3:20 in the morning 6 pm rolls around and you suddenly find yourself tired. You’ve been up for almost 15 hours by this time when most people have been up for maybe 12. Hell, I didn’t used to get up until after 7. You’ve put in a thirteen hour workday and you know you get to turn around and do it all over again the next day! It’s not like this is an aberration. No, this is your life.

Plus, Cousinfucker moved me away from all of my friends so it’s not like I have this huge support system and we get together and drink wine or do fun things together. The friends I have from my hometown have lived a life without me in it for 20 years now. Their lives are full and I make up only a tiny part of it. That would be fine if I actually had something to fill my life with outside of them; unfortunately, I don’t. So there isn’t much of a social support network.

They always counsel us to find something we are passionate about, something that we enjoy doing. I had those things. They were all taken away. I have roughly 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hours each night to devote to “my passion”- if I never want to see my kids again. And if I can afford it. And if I’m not too tired. Or I can take my one day off each week and use that to devote to my unknown passion. Fuck the dishes. Fuck the laundry. Fuck the kids. It’s all about me. Only I’m not like that. I’m not going to desert my kids, especially not after their father has done so. I have so little time and I’m always tired so whatever I end up doing I would like it to be something that I really do love and care about. I don’t want to fill in space just to fill it in. That’s what all these Meetup groups feel like. I’m afraid that’s what church is going to feel like. That’s what I think a divorce support group will end up being.

I don’t know what I’m passionate about. Everything I knew and loved was taken away from me, even before Cousinfucker started fucking his cousin. My life as I knew it has been obliterated. It has been filled with work and poverty and trying to raise two kids while poor yet working nonstop. I hate it. I absolutely fucking hate what my life has become.

There is a part of me that says, “Try to get involved with a theater group. You loved that once.” But then there’s another part that says I’m too old to get any decent parts and yet another practical part that says, “Hey! Plays take an enormous amount of time and commitment. You don’t really have any time to spare. And if you do what’s going to happen to your kids? Are you going to abandon them, too? You’re already down to 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hours a night with them. If you do this then you’ll really never see them. And who will get your daughter where she needs to be?” So I’m afraid that will be put on the back burner at least until I no longer have kids in the house, and probably indefinitely. Yet another thing I waited too long to reclaim.

I have no joy in my life. I have brief moments where I laugh at something funny one of my kids says. I occasionally will have a day where things are going right for me so I get a 24 hour period of relief. There was the moment my daughter finally was happy. I’m glad for her but I’m not happy. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.

For the most part I just exist. I’m numb. Life is neither good nor bad. It just is. I’m just here killing time, counting down the days, the weeks, the months, the years. My life consists of working all day long and then running to and fro for my daughter who doesn’t have her license yet. I don’t really look forward to anything. I don’t even look forward to or find joy in attending my kids’ events because it just means a longer day for me. It’s one more thing on my list of things to do and I’m already exhausted most days. The last thing I want to do is go for another 2 or 3 hours when I’ve already been going for a good 14 hours or more. I dread most days, actually. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve stumbled out of bed at 3:20 in the morning, got ready and headed off to Target and thought, “This is my life now.” There is a certain feeling of defeat when you realize that this is your life and it’s never going to get any better. You realize you are never going to live a good life again. You will never take another vacation. You will never get to travel to places you’d love to visit. You won’t be able to ever take your kids to DisneyWorld. You will never be able to go shopping or buy your kids things just because. You’ll never be able to give them grand gifts or surprise them with something they’ve wanted for a while. You will never own your own home; hell, you may not even be able to afford to rent your own apartment. You realize that you will struggle in poverty for the rest of your life. That you will always be pinching pennies and remembering the life you used to live- the one where you didn’t have to worry constantly, the one where you had a home of your own, the one where you had furniture and household belongings and friends and joy. It was a life I didn’t dread and wish away.

I keep hearing about this new and improved life. I really wish I could create it. Unfortunately, with the choices Cousinfucker has made I now must spend the bulk of my life working for very little money, which leaves very little left over to create any kind of new and wonderful life. I would love to report soon that I love my life, that I’m happy and content. First I heard give it six months. Then I heard give it a year. Now I’m hearing give it two years. Well, I’m a year and a half out from D-Day and I’m no closer to Meh or to a new and improved life than I was 2 weeks after that day. Perhaps I shall begin the countdown anew once we are officially divorced.

Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda

September 2014

Last month I posted about the differences between reality and what I sometimes feel I should have done. I know how I handled it. I was pissed but pretty calm, I think. I demanded that he end it. Honestly, I didn’t think he would and I was prepared to start divorce proceedings. I figured I wouldn’t come back from my home state. He must have thought that, too, because he told me he planned on driving out there to come get me.

But I wonder what would have happened if after confronting him and him admitting to loving her and wanting a future with her I had said: Fine. Call her up and let her know you’re free to be with her. Don’t bother coming home tonight. I’ll tell the kids you’re on a business trip and tomorrow I’ll tell them we’re getting divorced because you’re in love with someone else and you want to marry her. I’ll take my car to the airport on Friday morning and while I’m in my home state I’ll figure out what I’m going to do about all of our stuff and how to get it out there to us. CLICK.

Would the end result have been the same with the only difference being I wouldn’t feel like such a doormat? Would he have jumped at the opportunity to be with her? Would he have too much pride to fight for me after I told him I was leaving? Would it have sent him into a panic? Would he have, in fact, driven to my home state to come get us?

I could ramp this little fantasy up. He panics. He realizes he’s about to lose everything for some fantasy whore that he really doesn’t want if it means losing us. He calls her and ends it. He calls his mom in a panic, crying that I’m leaving him because he’s been having an affair with Harley and I found out. Maybe even texts his dear sister with the news. Of course, she’s no help. She’s good at helping people leave marriages but she’s at a loss on how to rebuild one. The news is spreading back in his home state like wildfire. She’s leaving Zack! He had an affair with Harley! I come home after the party and find him there. I ask him why he’s here and he tells me he won’t leave. I say fine and go into the bedroom to pack. I tell both of the kids to pack a bag. When he tries to interfere I ask him if he wants to tell them now. They are frantic now, wanting to know what’s going on. Of course he doesn’t want to say anything but I calmly tell them that he’s in love with someone else and wants to marry her so we will be getting a divorce. We probably won’t be coming back from my home state and we’ll probably be moving in with Nana.

Ok, honestly, I don’t see the part involving my kids happening. The last thing I wanted to do that day was ruin the memory of her party. I remember thinking that this would be her last good memory before her world came crashing down. I would hate to throw the discovery of her father’s affair and the fact that she was going to lose all of her friends and teammates basically overnight on her that night after having such a great day.

So, if he came home against my wishes I would probably have just ignored him, told him to go talk to his future wife. Hey, it’s all out in the open now. Call her. Text her. You’re free to be together now without all the hiding. Maybe he would have been begging me to talk to him, to reconsider. Maybe he would have told me he ended it right after he got off the phone with me. Maybe he’d be begging me for a second chance.

I’d like to think the outcome would remain the same. Eventually I would agree to work on this marriage and to not run off to My home state and file for divorce. We’d make up. I’d forgive him. He’d answer my questions. The only difference is one of pride.

Can it be said that a person is too rational, too calm, too focused on the goal of keeping the marriage together? Or is that a good thing? I sometimes wish I had made him grovel more. I wish I had been more hot-headed, less rational.

I know he went through hell (well, let’s face it- his own version because hell is finding out your partner’s been cheating on you) even without me tearing him apart. I know he thought I wasn’t coming back and he was prepared to come get me. I don’t know why he thought that because as I’ve said many times I never told him I was filing for divorce. I never said I wasn’t coming back. I know he was frantic in October when I found those Facebook messages and I told him I wasn’t coming home after I dropped off our son and dinner. I know it hurt him to see me cry.

In the end what’s done is done. Regardless of what actions I took or what actions I wish I had taken it is in the past. He banished her. He chose me. We are still together. Despite my last few entries we are happy. God willing we will celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary in 30 years and wondering if I want to acknowledge our 20th won’t even be a blip on the radar.

Clarity. Yes, at our 50th anniversary celebration this will all be so far in the past. If you look at our marriage, our life together, as one long winding road then this will be a huge pothole along said road, but only a pothole nonetheless. There will be beautiful waterfalls, and canopies of trees, and plenty of beautiful flowers and wildlife along the way as well. There will be hills and sharp turns and straight stretches and rough patches. There will be mountains and red rocks and countryside scenery and congested cities. Rivers and oceans and streams. And sometimes it may just be barren land that goes on for miles like I-80 through Nebraska or I-57 through Illinois. But those desolate drives always take you where you want to go. You have to look at the entire road and not concentrate on the potholes, the flat tires, the rough patches.

So, I may just go ahead and celebrate our 20th anniversary. In a big way. Hell ya we made it. We may not have made it perfectly. But who does? I won’t let some whore define us. I won’t let some whore take away our happiness and prevent us from celebrating a huge milestone. We may not have made a huge fuss in the past but nothing prevents us from adjusting and learning and applying what we’ve learned to the future. We’re not condemned to be stuck in the past. We can celebrate our marriage and make it a priority, even if we didn’t in the past. If we were miserable and just hobbling along then there might be cause to ask, “Why celebrate?” But we’re not. We’re good. We’re better than we’ve been in years.

I think that’s the point of the quote I wrote about. You can keep dwelling on the past but that won’t help. In fact, it usually does damage. But if you resolve to make a better future and you do exactly that it doesn’t matter what happened in the past. If you focus on the future, and the future is happy, then there is no reason to confront the unhappy past over and over. Or to put it another way: You can choose to concentrate on the past and be unhappy. Or you can choose to concentrate on the future and be happy. I choose to be happy.

Present Day Sam Says:  I should have left his ass back then. I should have done exactly what I wrote about- told him it was over and I wanted a divorce. I wouldn’t have disrupted my kids lives. I wouldn’t have bought a new house. I wouldn’t have moved half way across the country for that disordered nitwit. I would be done with him by now. I would have been supported by all of my friends. I would have had a support network. But no! I had to fight for the damn relationship! I had to give him a choice!

The biggest irony is that I didn’t want to cause a scene for Rock Star that day back in 2013 after her birthday party and yet in 2015 I ended up telling her and her brother about our impending divorce right after a pool party she had at our house with her cheer teammates.

I think the saddest part of reading this, aside from the excuses I would make for the asshole, is how I had hope.  I was so busy putting a positive spin on all of this and convincing myself that the worst was behind me.  Oh, Sam, if you only knew how bad it was going to get in a few months.  I should have kicked his ass out after I found out about him and Harley the first time, even if it wasn’t a physical affair (and I do doubt that at times).  I should never have agreed to move across the country and disrupt my kids’ lives.  I should have told him the kids were settled and I didn’t want to go.  I made so many mistakes.  All I can do is do better from here on out.

And the Adjustment Continues

September 2014

Aaaaaand the other shoe has dropped. Took my daughter to a new gym yesterday to work out and see how she liked it. It seemed like everything was going fine but once in the car she said she wasn’t having any fun. So, she’s decided to quit. We aren’t even checking out the other gym. So, Whoreville has taken yet another thing. I have officially crushed my child’s dreams. Six months ago she wanted to compete in college. Yesterday she quit. I’m trying very hard to keep this about her and what she wants. I knew her teammates were very important and played a huge part in her life. I knew the teams out here were small and might not provide the social aspect. I thought she might quit after this season but I didn’t expect this.

I just bought a new car that gets great gas mileage based on taking her an hour away 4-5 times a week. If she was going to quit I could have bought an older car. I didn’t need the more expensive hybrid. I could have bought what I wanted instead of focusing on gas mileage.

On the bright side I’m saving $315 a month in gym fees, $500 in coaching fees, and probably another $800 for entry fees. Plus, a new leo, new warm ups, new bag. Yippee! I’m rolling in the dough. And I don’t have to drive to the whore’s city, even if it’s not really her city, just a city with the same name. I don’t have to drive an hour and 15 minutes to either city.

On the negative side, and yes, I know this is all about me, I’ll never post another video of her doing gymnastics. I’ll never again be able to brag about how strong she is or what incredible athletes gymnasts are. I’ll never again get to say, “Look what my kid can do!” I’ll never see another Yurchanko and she’ll never perfect hers. I’ll never see new tricks and quite honestly, it won’t be long before she can’t do her old tricks. I’m no longer a gym mom or a hockey mom. I get to do whatever I want and not be constrained by my kids’ schedules in a town where I know no one and have nothing to do. The schedule is already wide open and now is even wider.

Gosh, Harley, aren’t you sad you didn’t get to make this move? Aren’t you sad you didn’t get to uproot your kids’ lives and crush their dreams? Cos God knows I live for this shit.

September 2014

Thank you, Whore! Last week my daughter quit gymnastics. Today my son was crying and didn’t want to go to school because he says he has no friends at school. Thank you! If you and my husband hadn’t decided to toss aside your wedding vows and started fucking around this wouldn’t have happened. If you two didn’t stupidly convince yourselves you were soul mates and start plotting to be together he never would have pushed to get the Whoreville plant. We’d still be living where we were. I’d still be happy. My kids would still be happy. My daughter would still be a gymnast; my son would still be a hockey player. So thanks, Whore. Thank you so very much for helping to put things into motion. Too bad you couldn’t have convinced him to leave me for you. Then you could be stuck in this hell hole while my kids and I stayed in our former state, taking a huge chunk of his check for alimony and child support, plus extracurriculars. And he would have given me anything I asked for because he would have felt guilty for abandoning his kids in favor of you and your kids, if you managed to keep them. Again, thank you, you fucking whore.

Present Day Sam Says: I find it amazing how naive I was. The hits in 2014 seemed horrible but they were nothing compared to what my life would be like less than a year from this point. Two years later I would be even lower. There I was all stressed out over gymnastics and hockey dreams ending and I had no idea that two years later everything would end. I would be homeless if not for my mom. I would lose everything. My kids would lose all their new friends. My daughter would lose all the sports at her new school. The hopes and dreams Harley and Cousinfucker took away from them in 2014 were nothing compared to everything they stole from them later on. I hope they both rot in hell. Unfortunately, I think people like that rarely get what’s coming to them.

I also like to look back and see how much I underestimated I him. Guilt? Oh good God, what was I thinking? He has no guilt! Only an endless need for pity. If I had divorced him back in 2013 he probably would have decided he had PTSD back then and quit. Then again, I hadn’t yet made that leap for him yet so unless Harley was on the ball… I can’t even begin to find the adjectives that will be strong enough to convey the disgust I have with him.

If I Had a Time Machine

I haven’t forgotten about the rest of the fall TV lineup. When I wrote my original review there were still a handful of shows I wanted to see that were premiering later. I think almost all of them have premiered but I haven’t written a review yet.

One of the shows that premiered later and which I’ve been watching (obviously!) is Timeless over on NBC. It is about a stolen time machine and the crew who is trying to get the bad guys back into present time. Naturally, they have a backup time machine. They have two jobs- #1 find the bad guys who hijacked the first time machine and bring them back, #2 make sure they don’t change history because if that happens who knows what the ramifications might be!

Here’s my quick review: I find the plot line intriguing. The actual execution is not as well done. One person came back and her life has been completely changed, but no one else seems to have experienced that. I’m also a bit confused as to how it is that history can change but the people work at the time machine lab are fully aware of the changes. I’m not sure how they are immune to this. However, I love history so I really enjoy the way they go back in time and how they explore that. I love the costumes and the customs of the times. It’s also fascinating to imagine yourself going back in time and having the knowledge that you have now. But the larger storyline involving some arch villain (or organization that is the arch villain) is somewhat tedious.

I keep watching for the historical aspects of it. I’d give it a 6 out of 10. It’s not one of those shows that I look forward to watching every week, but it’s a good way to kill some time. Ha ha ha.

This got me to thinking: What if I had a time machine? Where would I go? What would I do? Obviously I’d go back and play the winning lottery numbers, right? Or bet on the Kentucky Derby or some sporting event. Hell, invest in Google or Apple!

For some reason this is always frowned upon in these situations. I don’t get it. Even if time machines were real it’s not like there are a plethora of them sitting around waiting for people to hijack them and go back in time to bet on games!

So, all money aside, where would I go to alter my own life? My first choice was to go back to the day in May when I met Cousinfucker. I thought maybe my re-do would involve never meeting him. I have no idea how my life would be different now. I suppose it could have ended up worse. Doubtful, but possible. Hey- I was doing the old-fashioned version of online dating at that time in my life. I had 2 or 3 other guys interested in me and I had to pick that shit eating chimp. I’m not saying I would have ended up marrying any of the other 3 guys but surely it wouldn’t have ended as badly as this did!

Of course, then I had the thought that most people think when they’re thinking about this. What about the children???? If I never met Cousinfucker then I wouldn’t have Rock Star and Picasso. Practically speaking, if I had never met him I would never have had them and I wouldn’t even know they were a possibility. In my alternate universe maybe I have little Emily and Zachary and I can’t imagine life without them. But, in reality that moment has passed. I did meet Cousinfucker. I did marry him and I did have two children with him. I know them. I like them. I don’t want replacement children. So….

Where do we go in time next, if we can’t prevent myself from meeting Cousinfucker? So many choices.

I could go back to 2002, soon after Picasso’s birth. I’ve got both kids. I’ve been out of the workforce for 2 years, basically. Cousinfucker was making good money. About half of what he currently makes. But, the kids and I wouldn’t have been used to having a lot of money. They would be young; they would have no idea what it was like to have married parents. They wouldn’t be experiencing the upheaval they’re experiencing now. I would be 33, still young enough that I could jump back in to working and possibly even find love again. Bonus, at this point I was only approximately 2 hours away from my mom so even moving back to the area wouldn’t have been as difficult.

I would be the one at fault for leaving in this situation. Looking back though, when your mother-in-law asks you if your second child was wanted or if you tricked your husband into having another one, things probably aren’t that good. CF was acting like a shit most of the time. It wouldn’t have been adultery level reasons for leaving, but I think it would have been just.

Honestly, I was still very invested in my children having a two parent home. Despite any problems I wasn’t willing to leave him. I was going to stick it out. By golly, it was going to get better!

I suppose my most obvious time to change history would have been back in 2013 after I found out he had been carrying on with Harley all summer despite telling me he had ended it with her. Do I use my time machine to go back to that day and end things with him?

Instead of telling him to get his head out of his ass and decide what he wanted I could go back in time and tell him that I knew they were still involved. I could tell him I wanted his pathetic ass out of the house and not to return. That when the kids and I left to go to my stepfather’s memorial service he could retrieve all of his items then and get the hell out. No second chance. No reconciliation. No trying to make things work.

Now, at this point in time I am 44 years old. I’ve been out of the workforce for 13 years. That’s still a huge gap. BUT, I have friends. I have a support network. I could possibly have been offered a job at the school. Several people I knew and volunteered with through PTA ended up working at the school. That could have been an option. I had a friend who was a supervisor at her job. She might have been able to put in a good word for me and I might have been able to get on there. Her daughter also works at a company who is frequently hiring and her daughter seems to like this company a lot. Again, with a good word from her I might be working a 40 hour a week job that pays decently, instead of what I’m looking at now. Or, I have a few friends who work from home for an airline. They were often posting on Facebook about hiring opportunities. Unfortunately for me now, you have to live in that city so it’s not a possibility for me. Regardless, I knew a lot of people so I had a lot of networking possibilities. The job situation would have definitely been better. My kids could have remained in their sports more than likely. I’m almost certain the gym would have worked with me, and I’m pretty sure the hockey team had scholarships available. 2013 would have been a good time. I would have had a lot of support and much better job prospects. Downside? Getting divorced with my family 1500 miles away.

Or, my final destination could have been to the year 2014. Technically, I would have still needed to have gone back to 2013 because that’s when he began talking about moving to Whoreville. Once he was caught and we “reconciled” and things were “better than ever” he offered to give up on his dream job. I could go back to that day and say, “Thanks, sweetie! I’m so glad to hear that because the kids and I don’t want to move.” I could have vetoed the move and also taken steps to protect myself and my kids in case he did it again.

Of all the options that one seems the least invasive. Go back to that day and stand your ground. Tell him you don’t want to move and you won’t move your kids. Tell him to let The Powers That Be (TPTB) know Whoreville is no longer on the table because his wife refuses to go, the first time in his career that she has ever done so. Rock Star gets to continue on with gymnastics. Picasso gets to continue to play hockey and the cello. Hell, maybe once TPTB know that relocating him is out of the question Cousinfucker would actually get a real promotion and not a lateral transfer! Maybe he would have been an area VP instead of what he was offered. At the very least maybe he would have become the GM when they convinced his GM to relocate.

And then go a step further! Insist that he pay for me to go back to school so that I can get a good job. Or, start working again. Use those contacts and get a job. Best case scenario might even be work part-time and go to school full-time. All while insisting he support me in doing so. Not just monetarily, but physically by helping with the housework, the laundry, the shopping, getting the kids where they need to be.

Maybe if all that had happened we would still be married and I would still be happy. My kids would still be happy. The last two years would not have existed.

Would not moving have helped? If we go with CF’s logic that I hated him and his whole impetus to seek out Harley was because I hated him and was so miserable, then perhaps. When I’m bored I have time to think. I had lots of time to think in Whoreville. I had nothing to do. Back in 2013 I had plenty to do. And at that particular moment I was happy with him. Things were going well. Maybe if that had remained the status quo I wouldn’t have written so much on the other FB page. I would have been too busy. There would have been nothing to report back to him. He wouldn’t have spiraled out of control. He wouldn’t have cheated again. He wouldn’t have left me.

But is that true? That’s quite the gamble. I might be throwing away my ticket to change history if that’s where I choose to stop. He lied to me. First it was multiple women. Then it was only her. I later find out there was at least one other person besides Harley. I have no idea if he continued to cheat while I thought we were happy. I’d like to believe he didn’t, but I don’t know that for certain. The only thing I know is that he lies. We were happy as long as I never brought up his affair with Harley. We were happy as long as I focused on the future. We were happy as long as I danced and danced for him. We were happy as long as I was ticking boxes off of that list he gave me. How long could I dance?

No, if I were given the chance to go back and change my history I would go back to 2002, possibly 2003, shortly after my son was born. I would leave him then. I would have my kids, and yes, I might have had to have shared them more than I do now, but it would have been worth it. Honestly, I don’t think he would have taken them. A 2 year old and an infant? Way too much work! He whined when he was left with only one of them for a few hours! An entire weekend with both of them? Don’t make me laugh!

I could have jumped back into the workforce and be making a decent living right now. I might possibly have met someone new and could be happily married now. Hell, it’s a long shot but I might have actually had another child.

My kids would have no idea what was going on. They wouldn’t feel the pinch because the oldest would have only been 2 or possibly 3. They would know nothing else but parents who were divorced.

The way that it has transpired in the year 2015 they were and are keenly aware of everything that is going on. They know what they are losing, and they have lost a lot. They are cognizant of every change. I’m sure that at 2 or 3 they realize something is going on; they just don’t know what. And typically, as long as the sane parent keeps it together and keeps providing a safe, comfortable environment they adjust; they don’t really have a frame of reference. At 15 or 16, they know and they can see each and every upheaval headed their way.They do have a frame of reference and they probably can’t help but compare their two different lives.

Going back to 2013 would be comfortable. It would provide most of the creature comforts that we have known. Our lives wouldn’t change at all. Until he did it again. I could excuse that though and cling to this idea that I had friends out there and job opportunities. Hell, if I actually took steps back then to protect myself instead of believing him when he professed his great love for me, I would have had a job or a better education when he cheated again. But going back to 2013 means I’m still relying on him. I’m staking my future on being able to control his behavior.

That’s why going back to 2002 is the better option. I’m betting on myself in that instance.