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!”

Three Days Before D-Day

August 2015

… I’ve been texting with Zack.  The funeral was supposed to be today at 1.  He tells me today that the funeral was changed to tomorrow at 3.  Am I wrong in thinking he is really expecting a lot from me?  I mean, he goes to his home state alone.  He’s a mere 60 minutes from Harley.  He never seems to have great service when he’s there so texts don’t get answered right away and there’s not a whole lot of communication anyway.  A fucking funeral gets moved to a completely different day and time and I’m expected to just go along with the flow and not question anything, not have any worries.

I think that’s what’s been bothering me.  Not only does he want to move on, focus on the future, not dwell on the past… but also I’m supposed to do the same.  I am not allowed to heal at my own pace without making him feel bad.  I see so many blogs where the men are apologizing months and months after D-Day.  They take their wife’s anger and understand they caused it.  They deal with their breakdowns and anxiety.  Zack has never wanted to face any of that.  He wants to pretend it never happened and that if we just focus on the future then none of that will happen.

It’s not my fault I get triggered by things.  It’s not my fault him being in his home state by himself causes me anxiety.  It’s about time he realizes that instead of expecting me to make the concessions.  I’m not the one that cheated!  I didn’t betray him and make plans to live my life with someone else.  I wasn’t telling some other man I loved him.  If he had ever done a smidgen of research on affair recovery he would have known triggers will always be present.  He would have known it generally takes between 18 and 24 months to fully recover.  Instead he wanted it over and done with pretty much after he confessed.

Anyway, I don’t know if it’s the Prozac kicking in after a mere 3 or 4 days or what but I’ve been keeping the anxiety at bay.  I’ve got diarrhea like a crazy woman so maybe it’s manifesting itself that way.  Pleasant.  Can’t take the Visteral until after 8 because I have to pick up Rock Star…

I’ve been keeping track of the money I’m spending because for the life of me I can’t figure out why the hell we don’t have a ton of money left over each pay period!  Well, I know for the month of June it was because we were on vacation and eating out all the time.  And last pay period it was because we were in Florida and again, eating out and going shopping.  But even this pay period I wouldn’t have stayed within limits if not for the fact that we didn’t need to pay for trash, Am Ex, or the bank credit card.  Of course, I also went back to school shopping today because it is the tax free weekend and ended up spending almost $500.  Plus I had Rock Star’s cheerleading fees to pay plus a sweatshirt to buy.  The check to Mom for the water park came through and that was $90…  Picasso got assigned to be in band instead of getting art and home ec as his electives so he may not be signing up for cello lessons after all.  Who knows, maybe he’ll really enjoy band.  I’ve got fees to pay on the 14th but even for the 2 of them I don’t think it will even cost $100.  I do still need to buy food for the rest of the pay period…

Present Day Sam Says: A change in funeral plans? Come on, Sam! How dumb are you?

Okay, I will admit I was suspicious, but he was so convincing. He insisted that he was told the time was going to be Friday and he must have misunderstood.

Did anybody catch the Prozac reference? The man lies and says I was mentally abusive and manipulative and I ended up on fucking Prozac before this was all over and done with! I stopped taking it almost immediately when he tried to insinuate that “my depression was deepening”.

I wasn’t depressed, you asshole! You were driving me fucking crazy!

 

Two Months Before D-Day

Right about now I’m preparing for my divorce. I need to get stuff together so between work, kids, and the mobster I don’t have a lot of time to write. I’m going to be leaving you with a few Blasts From the Past until I can get caught up on everything I need to do for the big D! I hope you enjoy reading about my last few crazy months with CF before I found out he was fucking around with the whore yet again. Buckle up; it’s going to be a bumpy ride! 

These next few entries are from when the kids and I were back out west visiting friends. You know, since he moved us 2000 miles across the country for his dream job. 

June 2015

…. We went to the reservoir today and tonight we went to the dollar theater and saw Cinderella, which was pretty good. It has been nice being busy and hanging around friends again.
Zack is sick again. He said he had a massive anxiety attack last night and spent about 4 hours curled up in the shower and then he went in to work and threw up multiple times so he came home and spent the day at home. I hope he’s not drinking again. My mom said I should call Pastor Fake and Tammy Faye to see if they would go and spend a few days with him.
Speaking of them, the whore put up her new picture again and this time around my FIL liked the picture. Thanks! But, in my new state of grace and forgiveness and looking on the positive side of everything I am not dwelling on it and in fact, I may end up seeing if they will be around on the 29th and if they are seeing if we can stay the night with them on our way back. I think that is remarkably big of me. I also changed my MIL’s contact picture on my phone to one of our trees so I don’t have to look at Harley’s ugly face every time she calls. His nephew, Jezebel and Pastor Fake still have Whore’s picture as their contact picture though.
I am also rarely reading any of the infidelity blogs. I just have no desire to. I did briefly look at Not Hate’s today.
Lately I’ve just been unable to think about affairs or any of that stuff. I just don’t have the time or patience for it. I’d like to put it all behind me and not have to think about it. I really am trying to focus on the positives and find good in everything. I’m crossing my fingers that Zack will soon be back on the road to recovery, although he’s taken a detour while I’m away.
He missed his appointment with his therapist last Wednesday and then decided to hold off on meeting until I come back. I’m going to have to make sure he does make his appointment with his psychiatrist on the 30th. I’m not sure I’ll be back by the time of his appointment and he can’t go around canceling those. It takes forever to get on the schedule.

Present Day Sam Says: Wasn’t I a busy little spackler? Spackle, spackle, spackle! It’s all going to be wonderful. He’s going to get better and we’re going to live happily ever after. Nothing bothers me anymore. Where are those shit sandwiches? They sure do look yummy! May I have more, please?

I don’t know when they started up again. I do know the first money transfer took place in June. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that he was an anxious mess because he was finally taking that step to leave me and his kids. Of course that assumes he has a conscience and I’m not sure he ever had one. All I know for certain is that I was still doing my best to get him help so that we could be a family and live a happy life and he was throwing it all away.

Getting Through the Anti-versaries

May 2015

Nothing much to say, I suppose.  I could make stuff up.  I got my hair done today.  We’re replacing the air conditioning unit and getting a new humidifier.  Hooray for that!  Now maybe I won’t shock myself next winter!

Yesterday marked the 2 year anti-versry of Zack “confessing” to texting various women.  Actually, it marks the 2 year anti-versary of him being forced to admit he had been texting Harley.

It’s strange how our lives coincide.  My wedding anniversary is in December.  Her wedding anniversary is in December.  My birthday is the same day of the month as her wedding anniversary.  My birthday is at the end of one month.  Her birthday is the end of the following month.  I met Zack at the beginning of May; their affair began right around the same time that our relationship started.  He asked me to marry him on May 7th.  He told his nephew he was going to marry her on May 9th.  He half-heartedly confessed his affair on May 11th.

It takes a lot to stay focused during Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and all summer, basically, because that’s when it all began.  April through August I have to try to disregard any notice of the significance.  Hell, the day after our daughter’s birthday is the day the bitch basically said:  I’m fucking your husband!  And then I can relax until October, which is when I discovered him telling his nephew he was going to marry his whore.  Then I have about another month before our anniversary comes up and I deal with all sorts of triggers with that.  I’m hoping that this year all is good.

I do want to get to that point where we celebrate our anniversary as a victory.  A celebration of all the years of our marriage, not just the blissfully happy ones.  I want to be happy.  I want to be content.  I see some of these women on blogs who are so angry years later and I don’t want to be that.  If the affair is still causing you significant pain and unhappiness 3, 4, 5 years later (in some cases even more), then maybe it’s time to move on.  For my part I don’t read the infidelity blogs much anymore.  I deliberately pass right over them most days.  It helps, I’m sure, that so many of my favorites don’t write much anymore.  That’s the rub.  They write to heal and once they’re healed there is no need to write…

I feel like I have mostly let go of it.  Today I even gave thought to wishing him a happy anniversary on FB this year. I don’t know if that will happen or not but I consider it progress.

Obviously, I am in a situation where the OW won’t go away and die but I try not to think about her too much.  I think about her affair with my husband even less.  I am trying to keep the crazy hidden and look on the positive side.  It doesn’t always work but I am trying and that should count for something.

I guess I’m done for today.  Or for now.

Present Day Sam Says: I feel compelled to point out that when he originally confessed to texting with various women he really was texting various women. He was a male whore. A serial sexter!

I find it sad how much I wanted to believe the lies I was telling myself. It’s going to get better. We’re going to get through this. I need to trust him. I’m evolving. I’m thinking of it less and less. I’m making progress.

You know, marriage shouldn’t be that hard. You shouldn’t be dealing with all that crap. If you are, your marriage is probably already over. Call it! Time of death- May 2015.

 

And So It Begins…

April 2015

I am freaking out!  But first… I saw this on Pastor Fake’s FB page:  If you’re having sex and you’re not married it’s not called dating it’s called fornication. I had to laugh because Jezebel has had at least 3 affairs. Zack and Harley had an emotional affair and were planning on getting married.  And pretty much everyone in that family has gotten pregnant before getting married!  Holy crap balls!  I don’t care either way.  I’m not against premarital sex.  But really?  You’re going to make this statement and then not follow through in any way, shape or form?

So back to my freakout… as you know I’ve been trying to reconcile the posts where Harley has been liking things on my in-laws’ page.  Trying to tell myself they’re no longer in contact.  Nothing fishy is going on. Well, Tammy Faye is in the hospital again and Zack just informed me this morning that he’s planning on going to his home state to see her this weekend.  He’s staying at a hotel about 30 minutes from the whore’s town, aka Whore Town. Not to mention, since I know the whore contacts my mother-in-law it’s not unforeseen that she could come to the hospital and run into Zack. So, right now I’m trying not to freak out.  I’m telling myself that nothing is going on and that regardless, I can’t stop him.  I am not in control.  If he wants to cheat on me, he will.  There is nothing I can do to stop it.  If he wants her instead of me and his kids, then he will not be deterred from getting her. I hate this! I’m not ready to completely trust him. Especially when he’s been like he has been lately- PTSD, anxiety ridden, telling everyone I hate him. Who knows what all he’ll tell his sister when he sees her?  And of course she’ll believe everything he tells her.

I’m back.  Had my doctor’s appointment and went to meet Zack for lunch.  We had a good time.

You know, the fact is I have to trust him at some point.  I’m thinking back to an article I read just the other day where they talk about reluctance to trust because as the old saying goes:  Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.  It’s hard to be vulnerable again.  And there is a newness to it now.  I never believed he would cheat before.  I didn’t feel vulnerable because I didn’t think I ever had to worry about that.  Now I know it’s a possibility and I do feel vulnerable.

He’s being very loving.  Complimenting me a lot.  If I had to place a bet I would place it on the side of him not still being in an affair with her.  Or anyone else, I suppose.  I have to let go.  I have to trust.  And I need to be honest with him and tell him what I need.  I need him to check in with me.  I need him to tell me what’s going on down there.  I need him to let me know who he sees and who he talks to.

Present Day Sam Says: I fully believe now that he was planning on meeting up with Harley this weekend. I don’t know what made him turn around. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe he didn’t have the courage to go through with it quite yet. But he refused to take the kids with him and that was a huge red flag when he went to the funeral a few months later.

In the end, he did come home. Hooray for me. Needless to say I didn’t need to start trusting him because he turned out to be a big fat lying liar who lies. All the while I’m trying to convince myself I need to trust him he was undoubtedly messing around with the whore again.

I’m Taking It All Back

I wrote recently about not being held hostage by dates of significance any longer. I’ll go one step further. I refuse to lose one more thing due to him and his disgusting behavior. All those songs I said I couldn’t listen to? Over it! Places we went? Things we did? Rewind and reframe! As a commenter on Chump Lady wrote a few years ago:

…early on, when I was still so fragile and still navigating the divorce process and it’s aftermath, we had a standing half-joke: “Re-Write” when we would do something fun or take a trip in a place that had once been “special” for X and I and/or our kids. We realized that we were writing a new ending, writing a new story for those triggers.

That’s where I want to be. That’s what I plan on doing. In the very beginning when the wounds were fresh I wasn’t sure what to get rid of what, what to stop liking, It felt like anything that had even the slightest relevance to him had to be excised from my life. One of my favorite cities? Could I still like that city? Singers and movies that he had turned me onto? Do I continue to be a fan or do I ditch them?

I know it seems strange to think I even had to worry about any of this because he so seldom spent time with us. Many of my memories involve my kids and other members of my family, but not him. Time spent at Yellowstone? He wasn’t around. That vacation up in Idaho? Nope, he didn’t come along. Gymnastics meets? Most of them were attended by me and me alone. Most of our marriage involved separate memories so this should be easy enough, right?

I’ll admit- the songs were hard ones to take back. So many songs that reminded me of him. Songs that we danced to at our wedding or his sister’s wedding. I Swear. Amazed. I loved those songs before they became significant parts of my history; I will love them again. Just Give Me a Reason by Pink. All of Me by John Legend. Those were the songs of the summer of ’13 and ’14. The first was the song I clung to, hoping that our marriage could be restored after I found out about Harley. The second was the song I thought described us once we had “reconciled” and were “better than ever”! Now though, they’re just songs.

No, that’s not even accurate. The mobster sent me the lyrics to “All of Me” recently, not knowing the history behind the song for me. He said that it reminded him of me. What’s even crazier is that I was driving not that long ago when that song came on. It made me think of him. I could listen to that song and not think of the lying, cheating, victim morphing poopy head I had married, but instead could envision this new life with this new guy. A guy who appreciates me. Who thinks I’m wonderful. Who offers to call the doctor’s office for me when I’m frustrated. Who buys me polar bears.

Days after I found out my husband was once again cheating on me, when he would leave every weekend to go spend those days with the whore, I could do little but watch TV and play Candy Crush. My brain couldn’t anything more challenging than that. I was watching “Baby Daddy” and it was the episode where Brad proposes to Bonnie. He assembled a flash mob and they all sang that song to her. I remember having to fast forward through it because I could not handle listening to it. Now, however, that song- All of Me- has been reclaimed by me. No more switching the radio station. No more avoiding it on iTunes.

Need more examples of things I’m taking back? He was a huge Elvis fan. I’ve seen most of his movies, had “Love Me Tender” as our first dance at our wedding, and visited Graceland at least six times. Here’s the thing. I liked Elvis even before I met the shit eating chimp. I wasn’t as obsessed with him as CF was, but I liked him. So Elvis stays. I’m not going to banish everything Elvis because of CF.

While visiting Graceland the first time I fell in love with Memphis. I love their barbecue, their fried dill pickles, their zoo, their humidity, the music, and Beale Street. Memphis is mine. I might have only fallen in love with the city because he was around to take me but I was the one who actually suggested we visit Graceland since CF was such a huge fan. He wanted to go to Gatlinburg and going to Memphis as well never crossed his mind. I love that city and I created many fantastic memories there. He doesn’t get to steal that away from me.

I cheered for his favorite college basketball team for years. I knew I was in trouble if they didn’t win early on when he threw my foot off of his lap when they lost a buzzer beater game. My mom said they always said a prayer that his team would win. My kids, or at least Rock Star, still like the team. I don’t have any hard feelings against them. However, I think it’s more fun rooting against them because I know how much he hates it when they lose. That one might be a toss up. I did put a curse on them in the early days, declaring that they would never win another national title. We’ll see how that plays out.

Sadly, there aren’t many other things I need to reclaim. Trips we took together? I think I can probably count on one hand the number of trips we took together: our honeymoon, Memphis/Gatlinburg, Disneyland, Moab, and the Grand Canyon/Four Corners. Yes, those are memories I made with him. They’re still mine.

Our honeymoon was a cruise. I had a fantastic time and would love to go again. He’s not taking that from me. Our next vacation was to Memphis and Gatlinburg. I would also love to take my kids to Memphis and let them see Graceland. I’d love to take them to Gatlinburg. Both of my brothers have gone with their families and they love it. Just because I went there once, many moons ago with CF shouldn’t mean it’s ruined forever more. Nope!

He almost ruined Moab for us. He pricked his hand on a cactus and that was the end of that. He went into panic attack mode. Silent mode. Oh my God, the sky is falling mode. Back at the hotel he suddenly decided he was dehydrated. Then needed me to hold him and stay beside him in the bed at the hotel room. That was fun times for the kids, let me tell you. The next morning on our way to breakfast he was still acting like he just couldn’t bear to be out in public. I finally lost it. “We’re going home!” I declared. I promptly called up the tour guide company and canceled our rafting trip and our HUM-V tour. If he couldn’t even make it out to breakfast he wasn’t going to be able to do any of that with us and I sure as hell wasn’t paying over $100 per night to sit in a damn hotel room with him while the kids looked on miserably. He ended up begging me to reconsider. I remember him looking at me in the restaurant and asking pitifully, “Are you going to leave me?” I should have taken the bait and said, “Hell yes! This is no way to live!” but I didn’t. I told him I wasn’t but that he wasn’t allowed on anymore family vacations with us. He ended up remaining behind in the hotel room while my niece and my kids and I all went white water rafting and did the HUM-V tour.

You know what? We had a blast! We didn’t let him stop us or ruin our vacation. So that “family” trip? That’s my memory with my kids. He did eventually go to one of the parks with us but that was the extent of his involvement.

He was on his best behavior when we went to Disneyland and then the Grand Canyon and Four Corners. He was in a good mood. He was fun to be around. He seemed like he had a genuinely good time. I don’t think he ever really had a problem. He just… I don’t know. Wanted attention? Hated seeing us happy? Didn’t ever want to leave his bedroom and felt this was a great way to achieve that? Hell, maybe he figured if he acted like a big enough douche we wouldn’t want him to come with us and we’d stop asking. Who knows? I don’t care anymore!

I say this because it is obvious he is perfectly capable of going on vacation and doing things when he wants to do them. I’m sure he and the whore have gone on many an excursion together. I would bet some serious money that he didn’t play this bullshit game with her when he went. It’s amazing how quickly having an affair can cure you of everything that ails you.

For the longest time seeing pools made me sad. I had finally got mine and it was abruptly taken away just like that. I spent more time waiting for it to be constructed than I actually got to use it. The thought of having another one made me sick to my stomach for a long time. Now? Hell yes I want another pool. And this one won’t be dependent upon that dipshit. I’m not going to let what he did to us kill my dream of one day having another pool.

So that’s it. Things I did and enjoyed with him, I’m going to continue to enjoy. Things I liked I’m going to continue to like. Songs I once loved I’m going to love again. He’s taken enough away. No more, Satan! No more.

Another Bad Day Back in 2015

March 2015

Today is shaping up to be a bad day.  Yesterday was not hot either. I called about getting a loan for a pool finally.  Found out, as expected, that we can’t do a home equity loan because we just bought the house and don’t have the equity needed to get one for the pool.  So, we’re left with a personal loan.  To borrow the full amount would end up being a payment of $850 per month.  No fucking way.  So, I ask about how much stock he has because he had said he would do whatever was necessary to make sure we got the pool.  He has around $30,000 he can cash in; that doesn’t take into consideration the taxes, which he thinks would be around $10,000.  We would still need to take out a loan for the rest of it. A $20,000 loan would amount to a payment over 7 years of about $340.  That’s doable, although I hate the fact we’re paying that on top of depleting all of his available stock.  I’m still debating whether or not to go through with it, and it all hinges on whether or not the loan goes through. There’s also the fact that we have no idea how much of our savings is going to go towards taxes, if any, because we don’t know if we owe or not.  And there’s also that pesky little business about his week long hospital stay in the psych ward and not knowing if insurance will cover it or if we’ll be paying on that for the rest of our lives.  So that was my plight yesterday, and yes, I know in the grand scheme of things my problems are not that big.  It’s not a problem at all, simply a disappointment.

Today I’m in a slight funk just thinking about how embarrassing my situation is.  Everyone involved with Zack knows what he did.  I’m sure they look at me and think, “What did she do wrong?  Why did he cheat on her?  What were her failings?”  I’ve got his best friend spying on my FB page and reporting back to him.  I’m sure he and his wife got a great laugh over the fact that Zack cheated on me, and of course, I’m painted as the crazy one.  He’s perfectly sane and I’m a nutcase.  A nutcase that deserved to be cheated on.

I’m sure everyone in his family knows he cheated.  I’m sure they’re all talking about it and why I deserved it and how much they love Harley and wish he had chosen her.  I mean, why bother to have an affair if you’re not going to leave your wife?

I’m so tired of feeling humiliated.  I’m tired of being portrayed as the bad guy.  Zack somehow is a fucking saint and I’m the awful person.  Maybe I should go off and fuck some guy and then *I* could be the good guy!  But no, I have a moral compass and my moral compass says no sex with someone other than your husband. So I guess I get to remain the bad guy because we all know only the cheaters are the good guys.  And I continue to be humiliated and embarrassed by the fact that my husband cheated and it’s the topic of conversation with all his friends and family, while no one on my side knows what he did, with the exception of 3 people.

I’m tired today.  I’m tired and I’m depressed and I’m in a shitty mood.  He swore this move was going to be a positive.  It was exactly what he needed.  And he’s been unhappier here than I’ve ever seen him.  We made promises to our kids and we are slowly breaking all of them, one by one. I did not move 2000 miles away from my friends and uproot my kids’ lives so we could downsize and give them less.

I’m really pissed about this pool.  I’ve been telling everyone we’re getting one and now that it’s go time there’s a distinct possibility that we won’t get one. Who’s going to come visit me now?  Hey, we have a quilt museum! Or, if you don’t mind getting in the car and driving 30 minutes to an hour we can go visit some caverns. And if you’ve got some cash to spend on a hotel room in DC, that’s only 2 hours away but if you don’t spend the night you’re going to miss out on a lot. But as far as BFE goes?  Yeah, there’s nothing.  Absolutely nothing. I can take you down to where the food trucks are. That’s exciting.

And while I’m in bitch mode I’ll just say it.  This is not my dream house.  We bought this house because we could put a pool in the back yard.  If we’re not going to put a pool in then I would have preferred the house over on Diamond.  That was my dream house.  It was gorgeous.  Marble entryway. A larger hallway.  A kitchen that had an island and a breakfast bar AND space for a kitchen table.  We don’t have that here.  We have to eat at the island or at the dining room table in the dining room. No kitchen table.  That house had amazing views of the city.  We have no amazing views.  The master bedroom was bigger and had a sitting room, plus the bathroom had a separate jetted tub and shower, as opposed to my discount hotel shower/tub combo.  The family room had a built in wet bar.  The enclosed porch was big enough for a table and chairs plus a hammock.  It was gorgeous out there.  We have a small square closed in porch.  It fits a table and chairs.  That’s it.  No hammock.   Then they had a much bigger hot tub, also on the deck, and a separate deck off the master bedroom. And they had 2 fireplaces. I really really liked that house.  The only drawback was the backyard and not being able to put a pool in.  And the kids would have gone to Whoreville City schools so Rock Star wouldn’t have the friends she has now, but does that matter?  I mean, she wouldn’t know she had lost anything.

So anyway, I’m in a house that I think is ok.  I don’t hate it but I also don’t think it has a single feature that makes you say, “Wow!”  It never made my top 3 list of houses I thought I would pick when looking online, although I will admit that when we walked through the first time I did like it. I bought this house that is ok because it had a large backyard where we could put a pool in.  We chose this one over the house in D because 1. someone else was going to bid on it, 2. it was not fenced in and we were going to need that, and 3. lack of storage space.  We chose it over the one on Diamond because of the backyard.  That was pretty much it.

OK, I think I’m done bitching.  Maybe.  I’m still pissed about the pool.  And I’m still furious that I have to deal with the humiliation of being cheated on. And I don’t like being talked about like I’m some nutcase or like I deserved to be cheated on.  But, I’ll get over it, I’m sure.

Present Day Sam Says: I’m not sorry I bitched about him and the humiliation I felt knowing everyone in his family knew I was cheated on. I am sorry I bitched about my house.

I grew to love that house. I turned it into a home. I turned it into our home. Then he turned around and destroyed it.

I’m also slightly sorry about bitching about my pool. In hindsight those worries are so insignificant and at the time they were in the forefront of my mind. But as I’ve frequently said it’s not like I would have emerged from this situation with any more cash. He would have cashed in even more stock and handed it over to Harley and the hooligans.

Discarded

Have you ever listened to a song and had it take your breath away?  I’ve been listening to a lot of music lately. The why is neither here nor there. Most of the music is old- 80s and 90s.

I was listening to Patty Loveless and her song “How Can I Help You Say Good-bye?”  I knew there was the verse in there about the husband and wife divorcing but I didn’t think anything about it because the final verse where she’s saying goodbye to her mom is the one that always guts me. And then I heard it…

I sat on our bed, he packed his suitcase

I held a picture of our wedding day

His hands were trembling, we both were crying

He kissed me gently and then he quickly turned away

Normally, I don’t think about this too much but for some reason that day it suddenly struck me: I wasn’t even worth that much. There were no tender moments (I realize I would have attempted homicide had he tried). There was no crying between two people who had been married for years. There was no reminiscing, no fake displays of sentimentality. I was simply discarded. He got in his car, drove to work, and then after work drove 7 hours to his new home and his life. Out with the old; in with the new and whore-ish.

Even more recently I was listening to Patty again. I was in a very good mood. And then I listened to “Hurt Me Bad”. It’s supposed to be a positive song.

Would have never found you

If he had wanted to stay

Oh he hurt me bad in a real good way

See?  A positive song about the good that can come out of a broken relationship. Finding a new, better relationship. Or not. But then came the line…

When I look back on my life before

How my heart got shattered

with a slammin’ door….

The words literally took my breath away and I gasped for air. Because again, there was no slamming door. He slunk out like a yellow-bellied coward. I was nothing. Not a single thought. No fights. No yelling. No slamming doors. Just gradually pack up your shit and drive away while I’m out of the house. No confrontation. No explanation. I wasn’t worth an explanation or a goodbye.

Most days I have made my peace with it. Most days I truly don’t care and I’m thankful he’s out of my life. As one of my dear, dear friends put it: CF was a bottomless pit who needed you to fill that and it wasn’t your job to make him happy.

But on these two occasions it struck me how I was completely and totally discarded without a single backwards glance. I spent twenty years with this person. I followed him around the country. I gave up life after life. I did whatever he wanted. I tried to be whatever it was he wanted. In the end it was never enough and he callously tossed me aside for his whore of a cousin.

As if that’s not enough he callously discarded me and now wants to continue to ruin me. He’s cost us our house, our new life, and pretty much everything I’ve ever owned. He’s left us destitute and still refuses to pay support even though he’s working once again. He’s trying to get out of this marriage with everything, leaving me with nothing.

Someone said to me recently: He really broke your heart when he walked out, didn’t he? No, he really didn’t, was my response. He pissed me off. And that is how I usually think of it. He pissed me off. He fucked with my life. He made a fool of me. He played me. He lied to me.

However, there are times it does hurt. It’s those times when I allow myself to feel the extent of  what he did. It’s those times that I wonder how people ever learn to trust in new relationships. I mean I realize that they do. You can’t swing a cat without hitting someone who has been dumped and is now in a new relationship. But then I’m left to wonder if that new person will wake up one day and see what CF saw. I wonder if that new person will see the shortcomings and the faults the way that CF did and decide I’m not worth it. And once again someone will slink out the door without saying a word. Of course that would be quite the feat seeing as how I won’t live with anyone again.

I should probably listen to better, more upbeat music, huh? The good news is I don’t often feel this way. Usually I’ve got my shit together. I know he’s the problem, not me. I know it’s not normal to discard people. I know that what he did was wrong and no reflection on me. But some days… well, some days the sheer cruelty of what he did manages to take my breath away.

Oh Facebook, You Scamp!

December 2014

Am I the only sane one who finds something offensive and disturbing about this? My mother-in-law posts this, obviously about my husband, and his whore likes it and adds her own comments. Does she not understand she shouldn’t be liking anything that has to do with my husband? Does my supposedly loving mother-in-law not see anything inappropriate about her son’s whore liking something having to do with her son? I guess not. I continue to shake my head in amazement.

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Okay, in full disclosure this was not what was posted on Tammy Faye’s wall. But again, I haven’t yet learned how to do those cool black out bars so I just have to improvise.

In this same month I also got to see: Happy Anniversary. Love you guys! on their anniversary and Happy Birthday, Pastor Fake! I hope you have a wonderful day. I love you lots!

Present Day Sam Says: I wonder if she even bothers to comment on their pages now since she doesn’t have to convince them she loves them so much and she’s the better partner for him.

Probably. She and Jezebel both live their lives through Facebook. I don’t know what they would do if Facebook suddenly went offline. How would everyone know how perfect their lives are? How would everyone know how much they love everyone? How would they know about all their wonderful deeds. Whoops! Strike that one. They don’t really post about the things they’ve done for others. Only how much everyone does for them and how happy they are and how perfect their lives are.

More of Sam’s Epic Meltdown On the Hot Mess Express

This was a fun time in my life, folks. Cousinfucker was melting down, thanks to Blockhead. Looking back on it I was melting down as well. 

It’s not easy to start all over. It’s especially not easy to start all over when you’ve moved 2000 miles across the country and know you’re a mere six hours from the whore. Add in the fact that I knew we had moved to Whoreville because he set the wheels in motion during his first affair with her, and that I felt like everyone was ganging up on me (can it be called a feeling if it’s actually happening?) and you’ve got one hell of a storm. A storm that obviously CF had no control over and did not contribute to any way.

December 2014

Ugh! I’m in a pissy mood. Thinking more about our anniversary, our fucked up, glorious milestone, 20 year anniversary. It pisses me off. I keep asking myself, “What is it exactly that we’re celebrating?” I figure anyone can make it 20 years if you’re allowed to date other people. Nothing special about that. And I don’t think there’s anything remarkable about celebrating 20 years together when only a year and an half prior to that anniversary you were telling everyone who would listen that you wanted to be free of your wife and marry another woman. Telling everyone you’re madly in love, blissfully happy, and have finally found your soul mate… And it’s not your wife! Oh yes, let’s celebrate! Celebrate the fact that after tossing me aside for some whore you finally pulled your head out of your ass and decided to pick me back up. I guess I’ll keep her. Wow- if that doesn’t give me the crotch tingles I don’t know what will.

I think I’m going to tell him I don’t want to celebrate our anniversary anymore. It always leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I feel okay leading up to it and then I spend weeks raging about it. If my fingers weren’t so damn fat I’d take my rings off, too. He gave me those as a promise. He broke his promise. Why would I want to wear the ring anymore? What was the vow? I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness. Faithfulness. Not as a sign that I want to fuck you right now but I reserve the right to fuck my whore of a cousin one of these days. I’ll get a plain band to wear instead. I think plain gold says more, “I give you this ring as a sign of my temporary fidelity. If someone I think is better comes along I reserve the right to want to marry her and humiliate you.” That’s what he’s going for, right? Something sweet but not too permanent or committed.

I would love to know how far along they got in the planning stages. Did she pick out a ring or did they just talk about what kind she wanted? Did they set a date? Did she ask his sister to be her matron of honor since she was such a supporter of their illicit relationship? Did she have the church and reception hall booked, or just picked out? Ah yes, the questions every wife is asking about her husband’s whore for their 20th anniversary.

Well, this day is ruined.