Welcome To the Team

I do my best writing when the moment is fresh. It also helps if I’m angry. I think some of my best blog posts have been the ones where I mock cheaters and infidelity. I know I’ve been getting away from that lately. My blog has been more like a journal. Anyway, I have a whole long list of things that I’ve long thought would make a good blog post and I’m going to try to write about them.

It’s been almost 9 months since my niece got married. She and her boyfriend were high school sweethearts. Started dating as sophomores when she moved in with my brother and transferred high schools. They dated all throughout high school. They dated all throughout college, despite being several hours apart. He played basketball for a school in Kentucky and she went to my alma mater in Indiana. There was a very brief breakup which lasted less than 2 or 3 months but my niece, not having much experience with dating or breaking up, continued to go to his games and basically act as though they were still a couple. It paid off though because after she graduated from nursing school she moved to Ohio and in with him. After 9 years of dating they finally married last September.

It was a beautiful wedding and they are a gorgeous couple.

Several times the groom’s father gave a toast and each time he would end with, “Welcome to the team, Florence Nightingale!”

How easy it is to say those welcoming words, “Welcome to the team!” What’s more difficult is managing those sentiments when things go wrong. I don’t know what the statistics are but it seems there are definitely more people who find out the hard way that blood is thicker than water. Story after story is told about how you were tight with the in-laws until the divorce and then they no longer knew your name. In some cases they even abandoned the grandchildren. You go from, “Welcome to the team!” to “I have no idea who you are or why you think you matter to me.” Suddenly you are no longer a part of that team, that family. So many people are absolutely shocked by this revelation when it happens to them.

I was very close to my in-laws until Jerry Lee’s first affair. In the beginning I would call his mom, or she would call me, and we would talk for an hour or two. I drove anywhere from 7 to 25 hours to go visit them by myself and bring the grandkids to them. I celebrated holidays with them with no Jerry Lee in sight. I bought birthday and Christmas gifts for his sister and his mom, his entire family actually, and I always managed to do an exceptional job. I spent every Thanksgiving with these people until we moved to Utah and it was too difficult to get back there. Tammy Faye told me on more than one occasion that she couldn’t have picked a better daughter-in-law.

Then Jerry Lee cheated. His sister, the one I went to King’s Island with, the one I went to the movies with, the one for whom I bought birthday and Christmas gifts, the one with whom I had shared countless memories, meals, and holidays, told him he owed it to himself to be happy and that she would support him in whatever he chose to do. His mom and stepdad continued contact with Harley because “she was family!” They both fawned over her profile pictures, telling her how pretty she was.

His mother, if the Saint is to be believed, encouraged her to call him after he had moved me and the kids 2000 miles across the country, because he was sad. Hey- if dumping your wife of 20 years might cheer up your perfect little golden boy then dump that bitch! She accompanied them to the funeral of a cousin, knowing full well that I had no idea I was being replaced with that cuntface cum dumpster. She embraced Harley’s kids as her own grandkids and shouted out her happiness at the fact that he was “going to make Harley her family, too!”

Oh, she reached out to Rock Star via Facebook. Would tell her how much she loved her and how she was her blood. She never did anything substantial, like say, “I’m sorry your dad did this to you,” or, “I’m sorry you’re going through all of this. I’m sorry your life was pulled apart once again.” No, much easier to simply write words on Facebook where everyone can sympathize with you and you look like a loving, kind grandmother instead of the orchestrator of this giant mess.

Jezebel, of course, was over the moon ecstatic about her “new sister”. Yeah, good luck with that. She’s a lot more cunning and devious than I ever was. You’re both a lot alike so you’re probably going to clash a lot.

She also talks a good game about how much she misses her niece and nephew while at the same time doing absolutely nothing to stay in their lives. Of course her whole mantra throughout her life has been, “You come to me. Make things easy for me.”

Maybe I have become hardened and cynical. Are many people lucky enough to have a relationship with the in-laws that isn’t based solely upon your marriage? Do they ever see us as stand alone people or are we always destined to be a prop for their family member? Does anything you do over the years count at all, or will they always circle the wagons and make excuses while distancing themselves from you?

Even with everything that has happened I love weddings. I cry at weddings. I love seeing the eager couple so happy and full of promise on that day. I think it’s a beautiful thing when two people pledge to love one another for the rest of their lives. I also think it’s a lot easier said than done. Hello, Exhibit A!

I hope my niece and her husband have a long, happy marriage filled with everything they want. I hope they are both good to each other even twenty years from now. I hope they remember how they felt on their wedding day every day of their marriage because it is so true what they say. A wedding is about one day. A marriage is about a lifetime. And I hope that his family really does mean it. I hope she is a part of the team no matter what happens, and especially if they divorce because of his actions.

It’s so easy to say, isn’t it? Welcome to the team. Welcome to the family. So easy to mean it when things are new and fresh and everything is good. It’s a lot more difficult to continue to treat the person your flesh and blood has discarded like a real person no matter how heartily you welcomed them in the beginning or how much your relationship with them has grown over the years.

I hope she never has to find out if they truly mean it or not.

The Highlight Reel

This is the second part in my five part series on the stupidity of pain shopping. You can read the first part here. Let me serve as a lesson to you! Don’t do it!

I embarked on some “research”. First up was a new picture of her kids on vacation. It might have been Tennessee but it could have easily been somewhere else as well.

They looked like they were having fun. I don’t know if CF came along or if good ol’ Harley is finally learning the joys of life with him. In my mind he came along, because this is Life 2.0. He’s new and improved. He’s the doting husband and the beloved daddy, always ready for adventures with this new version of his family. Naturally, in my narrative he’s telling Harley how much he loves going on vacation and how I would never let him accompany us, how he missed out on so many of these adventures with his own children because of me.

Of course, I also notice the missing fourth child. I guess he wouldn’t play happy family or accept CF as his brand new daddy so he needed to be eradicated. Not even a mention of missing him.

I go back and forth between hoping he has a damn anxiety attack on the way back (or while there) that she needs to deal with and wondering if there was some magic formula I didn’t know existed that would have made him enjoy vacationing with his kids and me. Why does he do this with her and her kids when he would never do it with his own kids?

I see the pictures once again of the happy couple on their wedding day and honeymoon, I suppose. Everyone congratulating them and telling them how happy they are for them. I roll my eyes at the stupidity. It’s laughable. Two cheaters promising to love, honor and forsake all others. Yes, they’ve both got a real good grasp on how marriage is supposed to work.

I so badly want to comment and ask those people if they’re aware of the price her husband, her one son, my kids, and I all had to pay for their happiness. Do you think she’s entitled to happiness at my expense? At my kids’ expense?

I sleep on a couch. My daughter has spent two years basically with her head down just doing her damnedest to graduate and get the hell out of here, to start all over in college. My son, instead of hanging out with friends, stays locked in his room playing video games. We live on a busy street, not a neighborhood. There are no kids around he could hang out with.

But they’re happy and they deserve it because apparently I was a horrible, evil, mean person who tried to shit all over their happiness. No one cares what their happiness did to anybody else’s life.

She wants everyone to know that lazy days spent on the couch in front of the fire with her beloved are her favorite kind of Sunday. He’s got the remote in his hand so he hasn’t changed that much.

I see her incessantly calling him out, mentioning him, tagging him. “I love my veteran!”, “Waiting to watch the fight!” (from their home, on the couch, with him), and letting everyone know how they’re “getting their Halloween on”. Wow- you managed to get him to watch something other than Ice Road Truckers or Mountain Men? Congratulations! You didn’t get him out from under the television altogether but at least you’re watching together.

Again I wonder: Why not with me? Why can he suddenly do all these family and couple oriented things with her that he never could with me? Their life seems to be like a cozy, warm sweater. They carve pumpkins, sip hot apple cider, and watch Halloween movies together. I’m sure Christmas is now magical as well for him.

I see all their happy couple pictures and people cooing all over them. “Beautiful!” “Such a happy couple!” “So nice to finally see you happy!” My former in-laws are the worst offenders. And so incredibly stupid.

My late former mother-in-law shouts out to all on Facebook that, “That’s my baby boy and he’s going to make them my family, too!” Really? Aren’t they already your family? I could have sworn you told me that day you sat in my kitchen that you couldn’t cut her off because she was family. She might be a whore, but gosh darn it, Sam, she’s family, too! I see my evil ex sister-in-law gush that she loves them.

Funny side note: Maybe it’s a woman thing but I definitely noticed how Harley was always commenting on their pages once CF broke things off with her. She didn’t comment much at all before her affair with him but she was all over it once she got dumped. Imagine my surprise when I saw that she’s not falling all over herself to comment on every insipid post and each picture. Curious.

Always there are the obligatory compliments: You are so beautiful. Pretty. Great picture of you, whore.

I freely admit it has always been a sore spot that my former in-laws never missed a chance to tell her how wonderful she looked, while ignoring me.

I posted a new profile picture (obviously this was back when we were still married). Keep in mind I am not the type of person who changes profile pictures every week. That would be Harley. I think this was the first change in two years. Two years! On top of that I had just got my hair cut. I had kept my hair styled basically the same way for years! This was a major change and the most I got from any of them was, “That hairstyle looks nice on you.”

Maybe the former in-laws always thought I was very ugly and wondered what on earth their beloved prince was doing with such an unsuitable specimen. Maybe they like the Hillbilly Whore look. Who knows?

I do my best to shake my head and continue on.

I see all of the pictures of her adorable animals. Most of them purchased by my then-husband. Couldn’t give me money for a homecoming dress for his daughter but he could buy them new animals.

To inject just a brief moment of sanity in this I will note that I don’t see the pets she used to pose with. I wonder if she discarded them like she discarded her son and husband. Much like her new husband discarded his family and pets. Oh well, everything is replaceable, right?

I see her update on moving into their new home. That’s nice, bitch. I live with my mom. My kids don’t have a home of their own. It’s nice that thanks to my husband’s money (and he was my husband at this point in time) your kids are able to move into the nicest home they’ve ever lived in. It’s fantastic that things are going so swell for your kids. Well, except the one you abandoned.

Guess what? She later reveals she loves their new home. There’s so much for her kids to do! I’m so happy for them.

There’s the post about her youngest banging his head in the pool and needing stitches. Don’t worry, though, because New Daddy was on the job keeping him calm, happy, and stuffed with candy!

Awww… that’s so sweet. I’m glad he can act like a father for your kids. Too bad he’s done nothing for his own. To be fair he did manage to make a few ER trips with us (hey- my kid was a gymnast; she got hurt a lot!) but that pales in comparison to what he’s done to them the last 2 years. Maybe we should start calling her youngest, “Mulligan” since he seems to be CF’s do-over.

There were the pictures of the family outing to the zoo- two whole hours away to boot! I guess that PTSD must be in remission, huh? I suppose since he’s no longer trying to con me out of sufficient child and spousal support he can fully enjoy life as the asshole he is.

Oh, there it is! Yet another new profile picture of the whore so that everyone can compliment her and tell her how pretty she is. There’s CF chiming in, “Gorgeous!”  Really? I was married to that sonofabitch for twenty fucking years. Granted, he was not on Facebook long while we were married and most of the time I imagine he spent trying to fuck other women, but not once did he bother to compliment me.

It bothered me when I was married to him. It bothered me when we were wreck-onciling. He knew it bothered me. I told him it bothered me. His excuse? “I see you everyday! Why would I bother to comment on Facebook when I can tell you in person?”

That’s a good question. Why is he bothering to comment on Facebook when he could just go home and tell her?  Better question: If he really wants to let everyone know how special she is why doesn’t he tell her that she’s worth the thousands of dollars he has to pay out every month? I would think that would be a huge compliment! “Your pussy is so fantastic I don’t mind paying out thousands of dollars a month for it!” or maybe, “You were worth abandoning my children!” Hmmm… perhaps that does not convey the message they want to convey…

I see more pictures of the happy couple posing in front of scenery that does not resemble Kentucky. Maybe they travel a lot now. How convenient. It’s nice to know he spent twenty years wasting my life and making me do everything solo because he got such anxiety anytime he ventured outside of his house. I think the mobster is right and Harley very much is his seeing eye dog. With her by his side as his faithful companion he can go places he once only dreamed of.

One last new snapshot- one of her daughter and her two smiling sons. They’re all going out to celebrate her birthday. I think it’s wonderful that he can finally go out for birthday dinners once again. The last year he lived in the house, the last birthday each of my kids had before finding out that their family was going to be shattered and their lives torn apart, he was simply too upset and anxious to go out and celebrate. He stayed behind, probably texting the whore, while I took the two of them out. Who cares if he fucked over his own kids, right? The important part is that he’s doing right by her kids.

Once again I see the picture of CF with Mulligan at Show and Tell. It was Veteran’s Day. This year she improved upon the picture with a cutesy frame that told everyone who cared to listen that she loved her veteran. The year before though it was simply about how pleased Mulligan was that New Daddy/Cousin Daddy (Caddy?) could be there.

You know what I thought about? I thought about the time he snapped at Picasso because he wanted his dad to drop him off at school. Good ol’ Daddy was anxious and didn’t know how to navigate the carpool lane. The man can fight a fucking war and blow shit up, but a line of cars whipping through the horseshoe drive in front of the school just wipes him out.

I thought about the time he got pissy with me because I needed him to run to Target and grab a gift out of the dollar bin and bring it back up to the school for Rock Star so she could participate in her classroom Christmas party. As always, shooting people and blowing shit up is easy; a quick trip to Target is life threatening. He will probably need psychological counseling for the rest of his life because of it.

Once again I see them posing the day of her daughter’s cheerleading competition- him posing in a t-shirt with her high school name and mascot on it. Both of them gushing about how important it was to be there for her. “He must love her so much to wear that t-shirt!” “Oh, it was painful to put that Cardinals t-shirt on but I wanted to support her.”

He never saw his daughter cheer or compete as a cheerleader one single time. He never went to a single high school gymnastics meet. At the time he was saying this he had moved out of the state without saying a word to either of his kids and he hadn’t seen them in over eighteen months. Yes, it was so important that he support the daughter of the whore he’s fucking.

And always there are the comments. Comments from people I used to call family. Comments from people who still try to act like they care about me and my kids while they support that fucking whore and her kids. Comments from people who used to be family shouting out how happy they are with the jolly new couple, how much they love them, how much they love Everything. About. Them. They are so proud and this is their family. Tammy Faye cooing over the newest grandchildren. She loves them so much! Doesn’t seem to give a shit about her actual grandchildren but the whore’s kids? She was on that shit quick!

As tempting as it may be, don’t do it! Don’t pain shop. Maintain no contact (and that includes social media). You may think you can handle it, that it will be no big deal, but feelings will come. I promise you this. Even if the majority of those feelings are rage and anger it is still a lot to deal with. It can still mess with your head. Even knowing they are masters at image management, even knowing that truly happy people don’t have to make a huge show of their relationship every day and every hour on social media, even knowing he is the problem and she is a whore, it can still make you doubt yourself.

My Condolences, Asshole

No contact is so hard sometimes! There are times I would really like to let loose on CF but I don’t. It’s especially hard when I have people telling me I shouldn’t let him get away with saying the crap he says. I tell myself instead that the fact I won’t engage him makes him furious. I am frequently reminded over on Chump Lady that ignoring him and going on with my life without acknowledging him is the greatest insult I could lob at him.

What has brought this on, pray tell? I’m so glad you asked! It’s April 29th and CF still has half of my spousal support to pay. As of the 20th of this month he had paid one half of the child support. That was it. Two thirds of the way through the month and he had paid less than a quarter of what he owed. Call me crazy for worrying about whether or not it would get paid but the man doesn’t have a great track record. I don’t think I’m completely out of bounds for thinking this might be the month he decides not to pay.

On top of that April has been a bitch as far as finances go. I had to pay taxes this year. Quite a bit, too. Cheerleading fees for this month were out of this world high because of U.S. Finals and Summit coaching fees, plus required practice wear for Summit, in addition to the regular fee. I then had to pay an additional fee for her actually going to Summit which included her park pass and probably the entry fee for her. Picasso somehow managed to break his bed so that had to be replaced. I was supposed to buy plane tickets to Orlando for our Summit trip; at this point we are now driving the 17 hours. Thanks, Asshole. I needed to book a hotel for the same trip. Plus, as an additional bonus I found out that the final date to buy passes for the parks and the competition was April 23rd; he didn’t pay me again until the 24th. I will now have to pay more money to get into the parks and to the competition. Again, thank you, Asshole. I have to pay my CPA. I got yet another lawyer bill for over $400, seeing as how she’s finally getting me my share of the 401k and pension. Of course, she sends me the same damn shit three or four times and I pay for each and every copy, along with postage. My daughter has prom next month and still hadn’t bought a dress. Next month I’m sure I will be bombarded with prom expenses (shoes, hair, nails, etc.) and the following month is her graduation. I still need to buy graduation announcements because she decided she wanted to do picture announcements instead of the traditional ones. Plus, I am still planning on heading to Utah for a wedding in June, which will involve me buying three plane tickets. But who the hell knows when he’ll finally get May’s support to me?

Because he doesn’t have the greatest track record, and because I don’t want him to harbor any illusions that I’ll silently suffer through another ten months of little to no support, I texted him. I was polite and professional. I told him the month was almost over and he had only paid half of his child support so far; I then asked him if he had a plan for catching up.

See? Polite and professional.

He mulled that over for the weekend and decided to grace me with a response on Monday, later in the day.

Don’t stress yourself. The money will be paid.

What a condescending twat waffle! Don’t stress myself? Gosh, I can’t imagine why I would stress. It’s not like he’s ever not paid…. Oh… Wait…. My bad.

He follows that up with:

If you absolutely must know, I am catching up from funeral expenses for my mother. Thank you for your condolences and those of the children as well.

There is so much material here! Where do I even begin?

If I absolutely must know? Motherfucker, you owe me money! Damn right I must know. Don’t neglect your legal obligation and then act like you’re doing me some kind of a favor. If you want a break for paying your mom’s funeral expenses then perhaps you should contact me and arrange something with me. Would it be so difficult to say,”Sam, I’m helping to pay my mom’s funeral expenses. I’m a little short on cash this month. I’m going to pay you X amount this month and I’ll catch up next month,”? Or even, “I’m going to be paying later this month than I normally do.”

Of course it would! Who am I to request civility from this majestic god? He is so far above me. He owes me nothing and I should be grateful for whatever scraps he throws my way.

He would never do such a thing because it’s much more fun to leave me hanging in the wind, wondering when, or if, he’s going to pay.

I think he loves the game playing. He thinks he’s got all the power when he controls the money. He was ordered to pay on the first. Ooh, let’s see if I can get a toe over the line. He asked if he could pay every other week. Let’s see if I can get the whole foot across the line. Once I okayed that request he promptly shit all over it and decided to pay the full monthly amount but to switch it up and pay four times a month instead. Then he bounced a check, promptly paid what was due and began sending me money electronically. The catch? He now has to send the spousal support in two separate payments, so his total support payment is paid in six installments. Ah, more power.

If you must absolutely know I was catching up on funeral expenses for my mother.

I don’t care if I sound like a total bitch. You pay me and then you worry about your mom’s funeral expenses. When Jezebel and Pastor Fake ask you to contribute to the cause you tell them what you can contribute after you’ve paid your support. You have a legal obligation to pay me support; you have no such legal obligation to pay for your mother’s funeral. Ask your whore to forego tanning or a trip to the nail salon or some fantastic event for her kid so that she can pay a little extra towards the household expenses.

I’m curious as well. #1- If Pastor Fake had all this money to loan you while you were milking a PTSD diagnosis, and you drained your 401k and used it to pay him back instead of helping to support your kids, where did all that money go? Why couldn’t Pastor Fake foot the bill on his own? #2- If you hid the bulk of what I was supposedly looking for then why can’t you pay for your mom’s funeral and pay your support obligation? I would think with all that money you claimed to have stashed away you wouldn’t have a problem with paying all your obligations.

Thank you for your condolences and those of the children as well.

My condolences? You didn’t even bother to inform me that she had died, you asshole! I wasn’t worthy of being notified. I was nothing. So take your request for condolences and shove them up your ass!

You made a good show of playing the victim for Rock Star with your, “I know you hate me but your grandmother loves you like crazy and she’s done nothing to you. You don’t even have to talk to me. I’ll just put the phone up to her ear and you can say something,”. Quite honestly though once time of death had been called I don’t think you ever bothered to tell her, and you certainly didn’t tell your son seeing as how you don’t have his number and can’t think of any way to get it. You also never bothered to inform them of the funeral arrangements. Was that to save yourself the hassle of trying to figure out which kids to bring- your real kids or your fake kids? It might have been awkward, huh? Playing the fucked up version of the Brady Bunch at their grandmother’s funeral. Although to be fair, you do seem to think that a funeral is the place for public unveiling of salacious relationships. It might have been the perfect time to introduce your kids to their replacements!

That’s my long roundabout way of telling you to fuck off with your victim morphing and trying to lay a guilt trip on my kids.

Another question: Why in the hell are you referring to them as “the children”? That sounds more like Harley writing your texts for you. Is she upset she doesn’t have all of your money to play with? Must be a letdown for her. She thought she was getting an additional $5000 per month and it’s more like $2000. Still, not bad for lying on your back.

Furthermore, let’s not pretend that my condolences would have been graciously accepted if they had been extended. You just wanted me to tell you how sorry I was so that you could ignore me and show me how insignificant I am in your life. Or so that you could have told me my condolences were neither needed or wanted.

You’re pissed that I ignored you and didn’t cater to your image of victim.

Do you still not understand that we are not friends? I don’t like you. I don’t like anything about you.

Your mother refused to cut Harley off after your first affair, continued to interact with her knowing the damage she had done to our marriage, and then encouraged her to call you which resulted in you two dipshits reigniting your affair and you planning to leave me. Can’t say I’m much of a fan of hers either.

I know; it’s very upsetting when someone dies and certain people refuse to put them up on a pedestal and canonize them as a saint. Whatever misdeeds occurred before death are supposed to be forgiven. How dare I not humble myself before you and your family, all of whom have treated me horribly and haven’t treated my kids much better?

Finally, let’s not pretend that if it had been my mom you would have been there front and center, offering up condolences and sending flowers. You couldn’t be bothered to accompany me to either of my grandmothers’ funerals, and that was when we were married. I don’t see you spending one single minute trying to comfort me now. Again, we’re not friends. I could easily argue that me not offering up condolences, and you keeping your mouth shut had it happened to me, was actually the kinder thing to do.

I wouldn’t want a birthday card or a Christmas newsletter or condolences from my rapist. I don’t want anything from you either. Much like how you told me you were doing me a favor by setting me free from the burden of being your wife, I did you a favor by not intruding on your grief with my unwanted and insincere condolences.

You’re welcome.

Beyond the Grave & Other Exciting Tales

I had a weird thing happen to me last week. It was either the day of Tammy Faye’s funeral or the day after. I was going through my old voicemail messages. I had something like 40 of them I hadn’t listened to so I figured I should clear some of them out. I came across a number I didn’t recognize. Curious, I played the message.

It was Tammy Faye. It was from February 16th, less than a month before she died. It was a pretty brief message: Sam, your number popped up on my phone. I was calling to see if everything was okay.

She sounded sick and frail.

Here’s the weird thing. I don’t have Tammy Faye’s number in my phone. I deleted it. Months, if not years, ago. There is no way I could have accidentally air dialed her. Believe me- my phone has a mind of its own! That is a very distinct possibility. My kids couldn’t have used my phone to call her unless they had her actual number. I even checked the call log to see if perhaps one of them did plug in her number on my phone for some reason. Nothing.

Ultimately it doesn’t really matter why my number popped up. I’m more freaked out about the fact she still had my number in her phone. Why?

Bob messaged me to let me know CF saw his condolence message but didn’t reply. What a surprise. He told me he hoped that some good could come of this some day. I don’t believe in fairy tales and am getting a little tired of his excuses for CF so I was a bit feisty when I replied:

What good could come of it? I’ve been left in poverty, depending on his support payments which he makes when he wants and just bounced a check. I live with my mom and sleep on the couch. My kids have lost their dad. They’ve lost having a mom who is home and available for them. Rock Star is screwed when it comes to paying for college. She missed out on graduating with her class from her original high school She hates it here and suffers from anxiety. Picasso seems to be okay but who knows. The only people prospering are Harley and her kids.

#truth

His response was that the only good that could come of it is that one day CF and the kids would once again have a familial relationship.

Bob, I love ya; I appreciate the support you’ve given me since this shit storm began, and I realize you consider CF a friend (even if he no longer considers you one), but you’re stupid. In what world can a father abandon his children, play Daddy of the Decade to kids who aren’t his, and the great equalizer will be him reconciling with his kids so that they, too, can eat his special blend of shit sundae?

I don’t think it has ever occurred to him that maybe reconciling with their deadbeat dad is NOT in their best interest. He hasn’t done a single thing to try to make things right with them. He continues to ask Rock Star to pass along messages to her brother because he doesn’t have his number. Hmmmm…. if only there was a way he could get that number. If only he knew someone that might actually have that number. This is his genius at work, ladies and gentlemen. Stymied by not having his son’s phone number which has never changed, and forced to ask his daughter to pass along the message.

He continues to begin every message with: I know you hate me but… Can the man be any more of a victim?

Maybe she needs to begin replying to these messages with: I know you’ve already replaced me with your whore’s kids but… Or, maybe: I know your whore will always be more important than me but…

I’m kidding, folks. Don’t bombard me with messages about how no contact is the best tactic. I know that. She doesn’t generally respond.

A few days later Bob contacted me again to ask if the kids had heard from CF since the funeral. Nope. I did tell him, however, about my message from beyond the grave. He told me it was too bad I didn’t get the message earlier because maybe I could have reached out and we could have cleared the air. In turn, I told him that honestly, even if I had received the message the day I got it I wouldn’t have called her because I had nothing to say to her.

Death brings out the sap in most people and I’m trying hard not to get sucked in. She chose her son and his whore and her four kids over her own flesh and blood. The twenty years I spent as part of her family meant nothing. I was quickly tossed aside and discarded. She was happily skipping off to funerals with her precious baby boy and his cunt face cum dumpster. She couldn’t gush over her enough. So, she got exactly what she wanted. Her son and his whore were there at her funeral. I’m sure the whore’s kids made an appearance as well. Have to keep up the image.

Rock Star and I had an interesting conversation about this as we drove to her latest cheer competition. She pretty much admitted that if they had ever apologized or tried to make things right with her she probably would have reconciled with them. They never did. There was never an apology, never an acknowledgement that any wrongdoing had taken place. Tammy Faye could post comments to her on Facebook but she couldn’t take the time to text her or call her and have an honest, one-on-one conversation with her.

She never bothered to call her or text her when Rock Star first found out about her dad and I getting a divorce, finding out her dad was having an affair. Rock Star had called her dad and demanded her grandmother be put on the phone because she didn’t believe him when he told her he was with his mom. Once Tammy Faye got on the phone she said she didn’t want to do this anymore and threw the phone down, hanging up on them. Not a word.

That was her chance to tell Rock Star she was sorry about what had happened, sorry for her part in it. That was her chance to act like she actually gave a shit about what was happening to her and her brother.

Where was she when we were forced out of our home? Where was she when Rock Star and Picasso were forced to leave behind their school and their friends yet again, thanks to their father? Where was she when Rock Star found out she couldn’t get her license and would have to have yet another learner’s permit for 6 more months? Where was she all those months when Rock Star was hating life and feeling like a nobody thanks to the move forced upon her by her dad? Where was she when Rock Star was dealing with anxiety?

I’ll tell you where she was. She was up her son’s ass, gazing at him adoringly, and gushing over his whore, telling her how pretty she was.

My mother looked up her obituary. Curiosity meets the cat. It said she had four kids. Understandable, I suppose. They included her two stepsons whom she had helped raise. CF and Harley were listed together. Naturally. And then it listed her as having 18 grandchildren.

I have no idea where they came up with that number. Jezebel has two kids plus her two step kids. That makes 4. Her oldest stepson has 5 kids; the youngest has 2. That brings the total up to 11 and leaves only her son. He has 2 children which brings the number up to 13. Even counting Harley’s kids that only brings it up to 17. Maybe somebody has a kid that I’m not aware of. Nonetheless I find it appalling that those idiots could actually list Harley the Whore’s four kids as her grandkids. She’s been “granny” to them for a whole whopping two years and almost all of that time has been while he was married to me. At the very least take my two kids off the list. She chose Harley’s brood over my two.

I know. I can’t control what goes in her obituary. It’s also over and done with now. Plus, the very wise advice: No contact is the path to enlightenment. So very true.

It just goes to show you what a dog and pony show death and funerals are. Everyone is celebrating her as this wonderful person who loved everybody and was so sweet. The reality is she had no problem with her daughter cheating on her husband. Either of them. She had no problem with her son cheating on his wife of 20 years; in fact, she encouraged it. I guess she just didn’t correctly anticipate the reaction of my children. Unfortunately for her our memories are long and are not softened by death.

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.

With Miracles Comes Drama

You knew there had to be a catch, didn’t you?

CF struck again. I was telling Rock Star that Christmas was going to be a little lean but that once I had my money I would get her the more expensive gift she wanted. That’s when she informed me her dad had sent her a text the day before, letting her know that I had received my child and spousal support in full.

I know what you’re thinking. You must be imagining him as a jolly Christmas elf, spreading Christmas cheer! Don’t worry, Rock Star! Daddy has come through for you. You’re going to have a great Christmas because I finally did the right thing and paid your mom the court ordered support I owe her. I didn’t spend it all on my home wrecker cousin and her brood before taking a look at what was left over and then sending some your way. No, baby doll, it’s Christmas! I want you and your brother to be happy and to have everything you want this year!  The sky’s the limit!  It’s going to be like Christmases of yesterday. Daddy loves you and misses you and I hope we can use this holiday season to bridge the gap between us because it’s killing me to not have you and your brother in my life!

Of course, you would be wrong. Basically, he was telling her he wouldn’t be sending a gift her way because I was taking all his money. How was it he put it? Your mother should be buying you some really nice gifts because I’m paying her $4600/month and will be for the rest of my life.

There are so many things wrong with that. Where do I even begin? Let’s start with this: He made my kid cry. That sad sack sonofabitch with his “poor me” routine and utter obliviousness to what he’s put his own children through, made my kid cry. Fuck him!

Or how about the obvious lie he told- I’m paying her $4600/month and will be for the rest of my life. He will not be paying me $4600/month for the rest of his life. His support amount will go down in June when she graduates. It will go down again once Picasso graduates in another 3 1/2 years. After both kids are 18 he will be paying only his $2800 in spousal support and even that is not for life, unless he has a terminal illness I’m not aware of. It will last for 16 years. Hardly a life time. Hell, we were married longer than that.

I won’t even fault him for telling her that he sent the support. I’m a big proponent of telling the kids the truth, especially when they’re teens. I don’t care if they know how much I get from him each month. I’d planned on going over our budget with them later next month anyway.

I do fault him for acting like the hapless victim once again. Not once in this long text message did he ever ask her how she was doing. He never apologized for his behavior or his choices. He didn’t even tell her that he loved her.

No. You know what he did do? He told her he knew that she hated him but “her mother was doing the exact same thing.”

I was right. He somehow hacked my FB page and he’s been talking to the mobster’s STBX. I don’t know who contacted whom but I know they’ve been talking. How do I know this?

CF proceeded to tell my daughter that my “boyfriend” was still married and that he had physically abused his wife. He knew this was true because he heard it directly out of her mouth. We all know how truthful lying cheaters are. Throw in alcoholism on top of that and you’ve got yourself a fantastic inside source.

Yes, I’m doing exactly the same thing that Cousinfucker and Harley did. I’m sneaking around behind my husband’s back, letting him think that we are happily married and I’m committed to him and only him, while I fuck around with another man. I’m letting him think I’m going through a mental breakdown and while he’s telling me he’s going to stand by me and won’t ever leave me I’m making plans with the help of my mommy to dump his ass for my cousin. I’m taking marital funds and spending it on another man and his kids while letting my own kids go without. In fact, I didn’t announce this on my blog but I’ve recently vacated my home and moved in with the mobster all without saying a single word to my kids. I just got in the car one day, went to work, and then moved out of state.

Likewise, the mobster is sneaking around behind his wife’s back, telling her how much he loves her and wants to remain married, while he messes around with me.

That’s a little difficult when she’s living with another man! Not just any man either. The man she fucked around on him with. The man she introduced their daughter to as a benign friend. The man who had the balls to talk to the mobster like nothing was going on while he fucked his wife behind his back. The man she fucking left him for and promptly moved in with all without saying a fucking word to him or his kids. Sound familiar?

Those two nincompoops are so caught up in their poor me, I’m such a victim, why is this all happening to innocent little ol’ me mentality that they really think it is the same thing.

Fuck them both! Yes, I am still married, and so is the mobster. I no longer give a shit. We are the cheated on spouses. They lied to us, they betrayed us, they humiliated us. THEY left US. THEY are both living with OTHER PEOPLE and have been since the day they left our homes.

I am NOT the other woman. I did not traipse into someone else’s intact marriage and say, “Oooh, I want that!” His ex had already moved in with her married boyfriend. She had left him two months before I ever knew he existed. He had already begun taking the steps to file for divorce.

And what in the hell is with the abuse narrative that all these cheating women come up with? She’s not the first I’ve heard of. Hell, watch an episode of ID TV and you’ll hear it over and over. It’s not enough that she leaves him. It’s not enough that she leaves her kids behind without saying a word. No, now she has to malign him and try to assassinate his character.

For the grand finale he begged her to call her grandmother, good ol’ Tammy Faye, the orchestrator of this lovely affair-y tale. It was something along the lines of: I know you hate me but she’s done nothing to you. She’s going crazy not seeing you. She loves you and misses you.

Yes, she misses her grandchildren so much that she doesn’t bother reaching out to them. Oh, she used to comment on Rock Star’s Facebook page. Until Rock Star unfriended her. And she sent Picasso a Christmas card with a similar message, telling him how much she misses him and sure wishes she could see him again. She’ll send a birthday card and a Christmas card, but aside from that… nothing.

Any of them could get in the car and drive up here to see their beloved grandchildren/niece/nephew, but none of them do. Why not? Because it’s too much of an inconvenience. Much better to expect me to drive them, or to have my brand new driver make the 5-6 hour drive, right?

One final detail. He told her he had no way of contacting her brother as he didn’t have his phone number.

Huh. That’s strange. Picasso has had the same number since he got his first phone. How does he not have the phone number because he sure as hell had it 2 years ago?

Thankfully Rock Star saw through her dad’s bullshit. She said she thought about texting him back, calling him on his lies, but she decided it wasn’t worth it. She was smart enough to see it for what it was- yet another ploy for sympathy. As she said, “Sorry you’re just now experiencing consequences!” She pointed out that he never once asked about her and her well being, only lamented his own. He still doesn’t seem to get that he ruined her life- twice! First, making her move from Utah, destroying everything she knew there, and then making her leave Virginia and forcing her to leave behind her new life she built. She’s pissed and she has every right to be.

She also brought up the fact that her grandmother is not without fault. Tammy Faye did do something to her- she urged the whore to call her father. Even if that hadn’t happened she still condones what her dad and the whore are doing and Rock Star won’t forgive her for that. There are consequences for your actions, and unfortunately Tammy Faye is just now learning that. There’s that ugly word again. And I’m sure it never dawns on them that any of this is a direct result of their own bad choices. No, it’s all horrible things being done to them, these loving, sweet Christians who are so good and kind and do nothing wrong.

As for me and the mobster, well, she pretty much said the exact same thing I just said. It’s not the same thing. She knows his wife left him. She knows he would be divorced if his wife didn’t refuse to sign the papers. She knows he isn’t abusive.

I’m going to go off on a little tangent here and then bring it back and conclude this. This crap is exactly why you tell the kids the truth in age appropriate language. It’s why you report the facts and don’t editorialize. I’ve heard of way too many people who have taken the so called high road and had it backfire on them horribly- kids blaming them for divorcing their other parent, kids being persuaded by the cheating parent that the betrayed spouse is crazy or had it coming, the affair partner being benignly introduced to the kids as just someone new. It’s total crap. Tell them the truth or the cheater is going to be busy filling their head with lies.

These people aren’t content with cheating, lying, and leaving you. They want to destroy you, and they have no problem with lying over and over again if it makes them look good and makes you look bad. Get the facts out there because if you don’t, I assure you, the cheater will be getting their own version of what happened out there.

That’s why I’ve shut that shit down every single time I’ve had it happen. His sister messaged me to say I would always be a part of her family because I was the mother of her niece and nephew. Upon talking to her she told me all she had been told by her brother was that I had had him served with divorce papers and he was clueless as to why that may be. You can bet your ass I was on the phone immediately, filling her in. I didn’t editorialize. I simply told the truth: He’s having an affair with Harley again. That’s why I filed. He knows exactly why I filed for divorce.

Later on when she said he had told her he had been kicked out of the house and that I refused to let him take any of the household items with him I told her he had never asked for anything and that we were unaware he was moving out.

I didn’t call him an asshole or a liar in either of those situations. I simply corrected misinformation.

When his good friend from high school told me he had never known CF to lie I calmly listed the many lies he had told me. Again, I didn’t put him down; I corrected misinformation.

In conclusion, I’m doing my best to not let this get to me. I find it very creepy that CF and Batshit Crazy are talking to one another. Between the two of them they wouldn’t recognize the truth if it hit them square in the ass. They both love to play the victim while they go about victimizing people. They’ve both abandoned their kids and cheated on their spouse. I’m sure they are egging each other on.

On the other hand, once my divorce decree is signed, sealed, and delivered, I don’t give a shit what they talk about. They can pop popcorn and sit around a fire, trying to outdo one another with their crazy stories of their horrible ex. I’m not sure if Harley would participate or if she would just be pissed that her true love has a new bestie.

Rock Star seems convinced that he’s pissed that I’ve moved on. I’m not sure I believe that. I don’t really know what’s motivating him right now. Mainly, I think he’s just pissed he got his ass handed to him by the judge so he’s lashing out. He probably thought he had hit the mother lode when he realized I was dating again, and when he found the STBX of the man I was dating. Sorry, Charlie! Move along; nothing to see here. Don’t you have a whore to fuck?

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 2

Welcome to Part 2 of the never-ending letter to CF in response to his vomit worthy text.

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.

You want to talk about my Facebook page?  Let’s talk about it!  I used that page as my own personal blog.  There were no friends on it and I used a fake name.  You didn’t want to talk about what you had done.  It “stressed” you.  You couldn’t handle it.  So I went off and I dealt with it on my own.

You say you read everything but you obviously didn’t or you simply ignored anything positive.  Maybe 10% of what was on there was about us and not even all of that was negative. You ignored the bone analogy where I talked about how a broken bone is actually stronger once it has healed and how I could get behind that.  You missed the long post where I talked about how your affair would be nothing more than a bump in the road on our 50th wedding anniversary.

There were casual updates.  Many times I said we were doing great and things were fantastic. There was the song that I said reminded me of us now.  There was the picture of the hearts you drew on my van. All good things. Hell, I even read one where I said:  This is where I go to vent so I feel bad only talking about the negative.  Things are actually great.

The vast majority of it was keeping an eye on your paramour, which it turns out I was right for doing because first chance you got you started up with her again!

The other large part of it was processing the feelings of betrayal I felt when no one in your family would cut ties with her despite her being the other woman since she was family and all.

You think that entitles you to have another affair with the same woman?  Unbelievable!

Hey, here’s an idea.  Instead of turning to people who you were always whining to me about maybe you should have talked to me!  Maybe you could have read that and thought to yourself, “Hey, maybe I should step it up and let my wife know how sorry I am, how much I love her, and then give her all the time she needs to completely heal from the betrayal I threw at her.”  Or even taken some of the things I said and actually done them, like defending me, or not throwing me under the bus!

But no!  Your solution was to go crying to anyone who would listen, “Oh, Sam is soooooo mean!  I had an affair with my cousin and she hasn’t forgotten about it!”  And everyone around you said, “Oh, poor Cousinfucker!  She’s horrible!  You should leave her!  Your happiness is the only thing that’s important.  Don’t worry about her, the woman who has stood by your side for the last 20 years.  Don’t worry about your kids.  As long as you’re happy they’ll be ok.  Just focus on your own happiness because you are the only person who matters!” Then again you’re so busy playing the victim that the idea you may have contributed to this is completely foreign.

I was asked to forgive your affair, uproot my life and my kids’ lives, move 2000 miles across the country, move closer to your mistress, and start all over in a town I knew we were only going to because of your affair with her all in the span of a year. Instead of telling you something you didn’t want to hear because it caused so much “anxiety” for you I handled it on my own.  And for that I’m vilified and you use it to justify having yet another affair with her.  You demanded that I forgive and forget because you didn’t want to face what you had done; you didn’t want to be reminded of it.  You didn’t want to have to do anything that was difficult. It’s unfortunate that you couldn’t handle the fact that I would *occasionally* be triggered by something.  It’s too bad you couldn’t accept the fact that having everyone in your family fawning over your mistress was distressful for me.  Turns out I was right for being distressed seeing as how it was your mother who encouraged her to call you again.

And you know what the funniest part of all this is?  I was completely over it finally!  Probably around April or May.  I didn’t want to be reminded of it or her.  Isn’t that funny?  Just as I feel completely healed from your first betrayal you start messing around with her again.  Although, according to her, I was never your first choice and you only stayed because you “couldn’t liquidate your assets quickly enough.”

I’m curious.  Was that a lie you told her or is that the lie she tells everyone to justify hopping into bed with you after you dumped her?  We both know it only takes about 24 hours to “liquidate” any assets you might have had.  And you might want to let the little whore know it doesn’t matter how “quickly you liquidate your assets” you still have to hand over 50%.  But I get it; the other story sounds better.

Stay tuned! There’s more to come!

 

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.

 

Two Days Before D-Day

August 2015

It’s now 5:41 and I have yet to hear from my dear husband today.  I decided to wait it out and see if he would text me first.  I guess not.  I guess it completely slips his fucking mind that him being in his home state, a mere one hour away from HER might cause ME just a wee bit of anxiety.  Along with his staunch refusal to take either of the kids.  I think I’m going to take a pill tonight.  I just can’t function.  I’m on autopilot and thinking about crashing my car again.  Am I being totally ridiculous with wanting some contact?  I was looking at old texts from him, sent just a year ago and they are so damn different than what I get now.  Maybe it’s all the newness wearing off.  Maybe he was just missing me seeing as how we were apart.  But I miss it.  I miss what he turned into for that short amount of time.  And I’m getting pissed because he has done squat to keep in touch.  I keep telling myself that he wouldn’t cash in pretty much all of his stock on this swimming pool only to turn around and leave me.  I keep telling myself that I don’t know that Blockhead is telling him to divorce me.  I just don’t freaking know anything anymore.  He’s making me crazy and at least one of us needs to stay sane for these kids!

Present Day Sam Says:  He was probably too busy setting up his joint checking account with Harley to get back to me. Oh, and an hour away from her? No, she was there at the funeral with him. It’s date night, y’all! Complete with his mommy as chaperone and introducing her to everyone in his family!

Writing this right now makes me realize that everyone in his damn family knew that our marriage was over and that I was being replaced before I ever had a clue. Talk about humiliating.