That Time Sam Was Ready To Throw In the Towel

April 2015

My darling daughter crashed my car into the garage door on Friday.  Fortunately Zack was able to fix it.  He spent the weekend mostly in bed. And then today the dog knocked the trashcan over in the bedroom and I found 2 vodka bottles in there.  One probably didn’t have much in it to begin with but I’m pretty sure the Moscato flavored vodka was almost completely full.  So I’m getting pissed.

Honestly?  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.  I’ve dealt with his damn anxiety and depression for over 20 years.  I’ve dealt with his drama of thinking everything is a disaster, and his reluctance to help with the kids and be a partner to me.  For quite a few years now.  I’ve dealt with having to go to family events and family holidays without him; I’ve dealt with going on vacation without him because he wanted no part of it.  I’ve dealt with having no couples friends pretty much since OB.  I’ve dealt with low key holidays and him napping and everything else.  I’ve taken him to the ER every time he gets sick and I’ve dealt with and survived his affair with Harley, all the while he’s lying to me and humiliating me.  I’ve moved my ass from my home state to State #2 down to State #3 and back to State #2 before moving across the country to State #4 and then back across to State #5, all in the name of his career.  I’ve dealt with him being locked up in a psych ward.  I’m dealing with all the PTSD shit now.  But I’m not sure I can add on him becoming an alcoholic to my list.

I didn’t even spend that much time with him this weekend.  He slept most of the weekend.  Every time I went upstairs to check on him he was asleep.  I went out to grab some lunch from McCallister’s around 2 and he was up but when I came home he grabbed his food and went back upstairs.  I’m exhausted and I’m not even dealing with him. He has an appointment on June 2nd with a psychiatrist and I’ve got an appointment with my doctor tomorrow morning to be put on anti-depressants.  I hope to God it helps. I’m also trying to get him in to see a new therapist that does EMDR therapy.  At least that’s what Google is telling me.  I can end up calling and finding out she doesn’t do that after all. But I can at least try.  Like I said, I’m exhausted.  I don’t know what else to do.  I keep thinking I should call our pool contractor and cancel the pool because I don’t know what’s going on in our lives.  I try to be happy.  I try to look for the positives.  But then I’ve got all of this going on.  And I hate to shake up my kids’ lives yet again. So I guess I’m dedicated to making this work and doing everything I can to help him get better.

I’ll tell you, though, some days I wish that little bitch had gotten her way and he had left me for her.  I’d love to watch her deal with him, especially with the added guilt of what he had done to me and to his kids.  I don’t know why all this has bubbled to the surface lately.  I have my suspicions.  I am willing to believe it could possibly be because he finally got what he wanted in regards to work, and now if he’s not happy, well… where does he go from there?  It’s one of those what do you do when you’ve achieved the dream you’ve set for yourself situations?  Or, there is a slight chance I suppose that he’s leading a double life and the stress is killing him, but I give that about a 1-2% chance.  See?  I’m evolving!  More than likely the guilt and stress of him cheating on me and then moving us across the country (the man does not deal well with change) was already doing a number on him and then when Blockhead told him about my other FB page he completely lost it.  He was an anxiety ridden mess for a while but it’s gotten really bad over the last few months.

In other words, I have managed to send my husband to the psych ward.  I have damaged him perhaps beyond repair.  Is that fair?  I mean, I’m already dealing with this shit and trying to repair a a marriage and focus on the fucking future all the while I still have questions and my in-laws are fawning all over her, and now I’m supposed to stuff all of that deep down inside because it bothers my husband to know that I’m not totally, 100% over everything that went down.

I was thinking about this the other day.  As I’ve said before I have tons of time to think since I have no life here.  Here’s what I want to know (or at least some of what I want to know):  I want to know who made the first overtly sexual move.  I know he told her she looked fantastic.  I know she whined about her marriage.  I want to know who started the fucking affair.  Who made the first move?  Who took it from friendly conversation to soul mates destined to be together forever?  Was it her with her, “I can envision a future with you” remark?  Did he say something before that?  I don’t know, because he won’t answer my questions.  Or he conveniently forgets.  I want to know how he was planning on having a future with her but wasn’t going to leave me.  How was that possible?  What was he telling her?  What were they planning?  How much thought did they put into their little plan?  Did he tell R he wanted the Whoreville plant before he got involved with Harley, or did he tell him that once they decided he would move closer to her?  I want to know what the hell happened the day I confronted him.  I want to know why she sent that text message that made it sound like she was the one calling it off.  I want to know why on earth he was more concerned with her feelings than with mine, if indeed the truth was she sent it to save face or to prove to her husband that she ended things. What I want is to be able to go back in time and have him text her that it’s over, that his wife knows and she’s told him she’s done playing these games and that he needs to pick because she deserves to be happy too.  And then I want him to dig the knife in deeper and tell her that he’s chosen me, that he loves me and he’s always loved me and when he realized that he could lose me he also realized how much he loved me and wanted to make our marriage work. Finally, he would follow it up with:  It’s over.  I won’t be contacting you anymore and I want you to leave me alone as well.  My wife is my only focus now.  You were a terrible mistake and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to my wife.  Ok, ok, ok.  I know that’s pouring it on a little thick but that’s what I’d like.  I’m being honest.  No matter what he may have said to her in their conversation, when she texted him with all of her drivel he still chose to let her have that instead of slapping her down hard and thinking about me.  I want to know why in the hell she and her husband seemed to be divorcing right when we were buying a house in Whoreville, their target city.  I want to know why she was liking Tammy Faye’s post that talked about having a handsome son.  I want to know why in the hell that bitch was liking Tammy Faye’s post where she asked for prayers for Zack.  Those are some pretty damn big coincidences and I no longer believe in those.  I thought it was a quirky coincidence when she blocked me right after I had her picture up in our house.  Turned out it wasn’t a coincidence at all.  They were still having an affair and my husband told her about the pictures. And speaking of those pictures… I want to know exactly what was said about the pictures.  Did she ask if I was suspicious?  Did you tell her you thought maybe I suspected something?  How did that conversation go down because it’s pretty damn apparent to me now that she blocked me on purpose to let me know she was still messing around with you.  So what was said?  I’d love to know.

I could play this game all night and well, all year, really.  Hell, maybe the cunt is even more devious than I ever imagined and she knew full well that I had that other page and could use it to watch her.  Maybe she deliberately staged it so that when we bought our house she closed everything down so I would be suspicious.  Maybe she did the same for the other posts where the bitch shouldn’t have been liking anything having to do with them.  I think it’s rather elaborate but I wouldn’t completely put it past her either.

Oh well, I need to go.  I’ve got a lunch date with my husband tomorrow and I think I might eat a burrito before picking up Rock Star.  Tons of excitement here!

Present Day Sam Says: He probably was fooling around with the whore at this point. Little did I know when I said, “I sometimes wish that little bitch had gotten her way and he had left me for her,” that she was getting her way and he was planning his exit into her loving whore-y arms right then and there!

I find it interesting, too, that I decided drinking was the final nail in the coffin. I had already put up with so much but I wasn’t going to deal with an alcoholic as well. Would I have left if there was no infidelity but he continued with his drinking? I’d like to think I would have but I don’t know. This was April and I continued to spin straw into gold in my quest to keep this marriage alive. I think I might have stayed until the very end, although I was finally getting fed up with everything.

In the end it was good that he left. I don’t think I ever would have and he was killing all of us slowly. He’s still killing all of us; he’s just doing it a lot more quickly now!

I’m Gonna Harden My Heart

December 2014

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

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

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

What If There Is No Life To Gain?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Didn’t Leave You For the Other Person

That’s one of those phrases I despise. “I didn’t leave for my affair partner. He/she just gave me the motivation I needed to leave.” It’s right up there with, “There were already problems in the marriage,” and “I haven’t been happy,” to justify bad behavior.

Jezebel was fond of using that excuse. Cousinfucker used it as well. To be fair, I don’t think he actually said he didn’t leave me for the whore. He just made sure to let our son know that we had many problems and weren’t happy and so that justified him having a girlfriend. And a wife!

You know why this pisses me off so much? One, because it’s a lie. If you’re fucking someone else and you’re married you’re having an affair. It doesn’t matter one little tiny bit how unhappy you are/were, whether or not you had talked about getting a divorce/therapy/support dog, or if the marriage itself had multiple problems stemming back to the Civil War. If you didn’t leave until you were fucking someone else then you left for that person. Despite whatever issues there may have been and despite whatever ill feelings you may have had you didn’t get your ass in gear and file for a divorce until this new fuck buddy showed up. In other words, you didn’t get a divorce because you were unhappy, sweetie pie; you got a divorce because you finally found a suitable immediate replacement.

Two, it goes back to what I wrote about in Just Go! Just Go!  These people are wasting other people’s time. They are cowards. They sit around whining about how unhappy they are, how the spouse makes shit pies for them and slyly serves them up to them, and lists every misdeed and utter failure of their spouse but they just can’t seem to cut the cord until, oh golly gee, lookie there- a fresh piece of ass! Getting a divorce with no one around is haaaaarrrd. But now they’ve got someone new to warm their bed. Now they’ve got someone new telling them how wonderful they are, how pretty or handsome or sexy they are. Most importantly, they have someone who assures them that the big bad spouse has treated them horribly and they, the shiny new affair partner, will never treat them like that. Life will be blissful with your new soul mate. Now they can take that next step. Divorcing because you’re unhappy is difficult, time consuming, financially devastating, and basically not something that needs to be rushed. But divorcing because you’ve got yourself a new fuck buddy… well, now that’s something we can do! Of course, we’ll have to stress to everyone that we didn’t leave for the new fuck buddy. Oh gosh no! There were problems galore in the marriage. Divorce was inevitable (it was just a matter of finding a replacement, right?). The cheated on spouse had it coming!

Also a point of contention for me is the fact that cheaters lie. I’m sure there are a few people out there who are quite honest about their cheating, and by honest I mean they lay it all out there.

Oh, my spouse is wonderful. Couldn’t ask for a better partner. I love my husband/wife and have no intentions of leaving ever. Does he/she do terrible things? No, not at all. Are they bitter/mean/hateful/angry? Again, no, not at all. No horrible personality traits. He/she doesn’t rage at me, throw shit at my head, threaten to leave me, or refuse to talk to me. In fact, my spouse is delightful in every way. I would go so far as to describe him/her as my soul mate, my very best friend. We have tons of fun together, have many similar interest and hobbies. I’m telling you, my spouse is great. Have they withdrawn sex? Oh God no! We have sex all the time. She/he is fantastic in bed. I just like to fuck a lot of people and my spouse can’t be multiple people. This is just casual sex for me. No, I don’t love you. No, you’re not special. No, we’re not soul mates. No, I’m not going to leave for you. I just want to fuck you.

I’m not sure that would get a lot of play. It certainly wouldn’t get the play that the poor sad sap story with the horrible husband or wife who doesn’t understand them and refuses to meet their needs gets. Other people eat that shit up! Oh, this person would never lie to me! Only to their spouse that they promised to love and honor for the rest of their life. The person they made a commitment to. Because they’re so horrible and they deserve it if you really think about it. If they were a better person then my true love wouldn’t have to cheat on them and make me into the other woman/other man.

That brings me to yet another point. If you love someone why would you want to drag them down like that? No one is going to believe that story about not leaving for them. If you’ve got kids, especially older kids, they’re probably not going to care about the fact that you weren’t too terribly happy with their other parent. They’re going to care about the fact that their lives are being upended. Thanks to your true love. They’re probably going to be much more affected by their other parent crying and rapidly losing weight due to the stress of finding out their partner is cheating on them than by the parent who is giddy with excitement because of their good fortune to be able to discard one person and start all over with another. So now your kids dislike your true love, perhaps partly out of loyalty to the other parent, perhaps due to the fact that you have screwed up their damn lives for your own selfish endeavors. They refuse to have anything to do with him/her, or worse, they’re flat out disrespectful to him/her. In some cases, that is exactly what happens. The kids are willing to have a relationship with the parent but they make it clear the soul mate is to stay the hell away from them. So now, the cheater is in a position of needing to choose between the soul mate and their children. Not an enviable position. Well, not one for most people. I think for cheaters it’s quite easy. They’ll toss those kids aside the minute they interfere with them getting laid.

But assuming you are one of the “good” cheaters, one who wants to remain in the kids’ lives, how do you feel about relegating your soul mate to the fringes of your life when your kids are around? Do you think he or she is really going to appreciate having to stay home every time little Aidan or Emily has a school performance? Do you think Schmoopie will have no problem with not being invited to the graduations, graduation parties, weddings, birthday parties for grandchildren, funerals, etc.? And do you really want to do all of that by yourself? Wasn’t part of the reason you couldn’t get divorced until you found a replacement because you’re so afraid of doing anything on your own? Now you’re going to go through all of these big life events for your kids all by yourself? It should be doubly fun if the ex-spouse’s new spouse is allowed to attend. Hey, that person didn’t break up a marriage!

There’s a good chance other people will already know what has happened, or they will find out. Bosses, co-workers, friends of the former couple, family, teachers. Once that happens there is a good chance your true love is going to be treated like an outcast, a home wrecker, like the whore (male or female) they are. You’ll probably fare okay with the in-laws. Blood is thicker than water and most of them seem only too happy to forget or ignore what their precious offspring has done. Occasionally you run into a set of in-laws who has been very close with the spouse and who doesn’t forgive adultery simply because it’s their own child who is committing it. In those cases, the soul mate might not be welcome at family functions. Now you have to kick your entire family to the curb. Wow- I hope the sex is worth it.

But again, I ask, why would you put a person you purport to love in that position where people look upon him or her with scorn and derision? Why would you turn that person into a home wrecker? Why would you put him or her into a position where people talk about them or ostracize them? Doesn’t seem very loving to me. Then again, I think most people play the odds and figure most people excuse adultery and it won’t be a big deal. If you’re young enough you can make a few replacement kids to take the place of those big brats that won’t celebrate your unique love with Schmoopie.

Ultimately, it comes down to this:

1hhup5

I hate divorce. I hate it with a passion and I never would have left CF no matter how bad it got. I made a commitment and I intended to follow through with it. I also want to point out that while the final 6-8 months of the marriage were bad thanks to him we had actually been doing quite well before that, so it’s not like I was resigned to living in misery. I was never resigned to living in misery; I always felt like I had a choice to either be happy with him or to find other outlets to make me happy. Nonetheless, I don’t believe the point of divorce is to switch one partner out for another.

If there are problems in your relationship and despite talking it out, going to counseling, and trying everything you still can’t make it work, then by all means divorce. But do so honestly. Don’t wait until you have someone new before you take the plunge. That’s not fair at all to your spouse. It’s especially not fair when they have no idea the extent of your unhappiness. Basically, you end up keeping all these feelings inside of you until finally your supposed soul mate ventures into your sights, and then you’re seeking divorce while planning a new life with someone new. Meanwhile, your spouse is being blindsided with a one-two punch- first the news of te divorce and then the news that there is someone else.

I have to admit I find it more than a little curious that there are all these unhappy spouses out there with a laundry list of faults and infractions committed by the spouse. Yet, they stay. The marriage is so awful they need to fuck someone else, but it’s not so awful that they might consider divorce up until that point that they have their spouse’s replacement.

It also goes back to that saying: Wherever you go, there you are. You’re still you. You haven’t changed anything in regards to the way you deal with the problems in your relationship. You’ve changed partners but you haven’t changed anything else. Sure, life with Schmoopie will be great. At first. Every relationship has its problems. Every person has their faults. Love and sex (especially sex) can cover up those faults and problems for a while (look at Tracie Andrews’ poor dead fiancé) but they all come out in the wash eventually. Sometimes I think it’s even harder for those who have been in affairs because this is the person you left your spouse for; in some case it’s the person you left your kids for. When those faults and problems come out it’s like a double whammy. I gave up everything for this? Since you never learned how to resolve problems in a relationship because your solution was to go outside of the relationship, when problems come up with Schmoopie, well, there you are. You didn’t learn anything. You probably won’t talk it out. You’ll wait for your next true love to walk by and fall on or into your nether regions. Naturally, it will only be because you weren’t happy and the soul mate wasn’t meeting your needs. No one can say you left for the new soul mate. There were already problems in the relationship so this new soul mate just helped to put things into motion. Hmmm…. that sounds familiar.

 

Just Go!

As I said a while ago I have been expanding my horizons and reading other blogs, including cheater blogs. Why? I don’t know because they tend to infuriate me. All the same stupid excuses. All the same thinking.

I find myself constantly perplexed by their dilemma of whether or not to leave the spouse. It seems to me it would be a no-brainer. I mean, they talk about how the spouse (usually the wife, but sometimes the husband) doesn’t meet their needs, they’re not sexually compatible or never have sex period, they live like roommates, the spouse doesn’t understand them, blah blah blah. Of course, the mistress (or lover occasionally) always gets them. She’s always so hot, so wonderful, so sexy, so terrific in bed. He thinks about her constantly and she’s the love of his life, his soul mate, blah blah blah.

Yet these people continue to deliberate over whether or not to leave the spouse. What is the big decision here? They talk about their spouse like she is a burden while the whore they’re fucking is a goddess. The wife can do no right and the whore can do no wrong. So how is there even a decision left to make? Why not leave and go be with the perfect one?

Let me guess! You have kids. You have entangled finances. You have shared real estate holdings. You own a business together. He makes very good money, allowing you a very nice lifestyle you don’t want to give up. Divorce is just so hard!

Let me tell you something. I had been a stay at home mom for fifteen years, hadn’t had a full time job since April of ’98, had followed CF around the country for 19 years, putting my own career on the back burner, and was completely dependent on my husband. I was 46 years old, had no one lined up to take the husband’s place and honestly believed (and still believe) that divorcing him meant I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. I had been living in a new state for only a year, had just bought a new house, new car, new furniture, and had just put a brand new $57,000 pool in our backyard. I had just switched phone companies and entered a new two year contract and had just renewed my license plates for three years. I still had no family close by and all of my friends were 2000 miles away because again, CF had just moved us across the country. I was looking at financial ruin, no support system and a life spent raising two kids on my own, so if I could file for divorce in spite of all of that you can certainly leave and go be with your soul mate.

You act like you are doing us some favor, deliberating over whether or not to stay or go. You are not. You are wasting our time; you are stealing years of our lives. You are taking free choice away from us and forcing us to live lies. We think we’re building a life with you and you’re busy trying to decide if you’re going to keep fucking Schmoopie/Studly Do Right on the side, or if you’re just going to leave us for the whore. We think we have a partner for life, someone with whom we will grow old, and you’re fantasizing about your perfect affair partner who never makes a wrong move while you catalog all of our faults.

One of the things that pisses me off the most about my situation is all the wasted years. I spent over twenty years with that waste of skin. Had he left ten years ago I might have had a chance to make something of my life. Hell, had he left when he was first confronted I might have had a chance! Now, I’m utterly and thoroughly fucked. I have no shot at a career. I have no shot at making any kind of a decent living. I will never come close to having what I had all those years. I wasted my youth on him. I wasted the best years of my life on him.

You want to write down a list of pros and cons for keeping your spouse versus leaving and going with the soul mate? Why bother? Your spouse will never be able to compete with the mirage that is the other person. That person doesn’t live with you. That person doesn’t see you when you’re sick. You’re never harping on her because she didn’t pick up your laundry from the dry cleaner’s, or on him because he didn’t mow the grass. Their only task is to fuck you. The whole relationship is secretive and sexy and the thrill of knowing you’re doing wrong adds to the excitement. You’re in a little cocoon where you don’t have to deal with any real life situations. No one is ever going to have to stop what they’re doing because a kid is calling for them. No, you’ve arranged it so that your cuckolded spouse (or daycare) is taking care of the kids while you run off and fuck your soul mate. Life is perfect with the soul mate. You never fight. You’re never in a bad mood. No one has to figure out the logistics of how to pay the mortgage or what to do about grandparents who won’t listen or who’s going to pick the kids up because you’re relationship is all about the two of you- no one else. You have no distractions because your getaways are secret; you’re having an affair so no one else is going to be involved.

I think this is where Chump Lady’s unified theory of cake comes into play. You like the “kibbles” and you don’t leave because the spouse is doing something for you; you’re getting something out of the marital arrangement. Maybe it’s as basic as taking care of the house and the kids. Or as basic as supporting you or enabling you to live a lifestyle you couldn’t live on your own. Maybe you don’t want to deal with the financial hit you would possibly take, or you don’t want to have to pay child support. Hey, as long as the spouse has no idea there is another person you are free to spend as much of the marital money pot on the soul mate as you want! Once that divorce comes through though you might easily see your income cut in half, if not more. Maybe it’s as simple as the thrill of having multiple people wanting you. I believe Chump Lady would say it boils down to entitlement and the thrill of getting one over on your unknowing spouse.

Seriously, just leave. Go! Get out! Stop wasting your spouse’s life. They deserve to find someone who will love them the way you claim to love your affair partner. They deserve to be first in someone’s life because they sure as hell will never come first in yours. They will always be unfairly compared to the affair partner. They deserve to be with someone who won’t lie to them, cheat on them, betray them, and humiliate them.

You deserve to live your life with your soul mate. It will be fun! I’m sure it will be exactly like you imagined it- sex all the time, no fighting, constant understanding. There will be no bills to pay, no children to take care of, no explanations needed when co-workers and friends notice the change in spouse. Your real life with your soul mate will be all kinds of awesome! Never a bad or dull moment. Your kids will be fine! After all, if you’re happy then they’re happy. Besides, kids are resilient, don’t ya know?

Hey, I’m sure that anyone who would throw all their morals aside (assuming they had any to begin with) to sleep with someone else’s spouse is a perfectly delightful person- a real catch, if you will. In some cases they’ve cheated on their own spouse and told their own set of lies. But don’t worry. They would never do that to you. You are special. You are their soul mate. You understand them. They only lie to less deserving people. That would never be you!

Trying to Put a Positive Spin On This, Take Two

Last time I tried this it didn’t work so well. I ended up just feeling sorry for myself. What I was trying to say the last time is: Being in limbo sucks, there’s no point in worrying about the future, drop the rope, and stop whining about life being unfair. It sucks but there’s nothing you can do about it.

Being in limbo does suck! I don’t know anything. Right now my head is full of worst case scenarios. I do not allow myself to think that things will go my way in court because I don’t want to be devastated when and if Cousinfucker gets away with everything. As I’ve said many times I envision my daughter’s senior year as the Year From Hell, as I have to either explain to her why she can’t participate, basically, i.e. no senior pictures, no graduation announcements, no graduation party, no dinner afterwards, no graduation gift, no nothing; or I work 80 hours a week to keep my head above water and then end up working the day of her graduation so she gets the party but I miss it.

That’s what I’m envisioning. Honestly, I think that’s a pretty damn good representation of what’s actually going to happen (hey, I’m trying to be positive, not delusional!) but I don’t know that for a fact. Hell could freeze over and Cousinfucker could start paying me what he owes me. Pigs could fly and I actually find a job that pays me a decent amount. So, there’s no use in worrying about any of that.

I need to learn to truly drop the rope and not try to pick it up again. My life as I knew it is over. There’s no point in comparing my life a little over a year ago to my life today. For most of 2015 I was a fairly comfortable housewife and stay at home mom. Now I’ve been discarded. I’m scrambling to find a job. My lifestyle has dramatically changed. I can keep whining about it but it won’t change it. I need to do as Picasso does and tell myself there’s no point in crying about it because I can’t change it. Just keep on keeping on. If I finally get hired working for shit money then I’m hired working for shit money. If I need to get a second job, I need to get a second job. If I work three jobs, I work three jobs. I can complain all day long. I can cry into my pillow for months and months. It does. not. change. a. thing. I may as well wrap my mind around the fact that my life is going to be very unpleasant from here on out and embrace the suck. You know, we often say we would rush into a burning building if our kids needed us. I would fight off a bear for my kids (not a snake- they’re on their own for that one). They don’t need me to run into a burning building or to fight off a bear. They need me to provide for them. And if that means I work 2 or 3 jobs, 60-80 hours a week, 6 and 7 days a week, then that’s what I’ll do. Who said life was supposed to be pleasant? I will endure for my kids.

Rock Star does have a few friends at her new school, including a cheerleader. Her cheerleader friend asked her if she was going to join their team this winter. Rock Star is telling me she’s not going to because she doesn’t want to have to change her availability at work. A week ago I would have been fine with this and pouted along with her.

“See, Cousinfucker? See what you’ve done to her? She has NOTHING because of you. All she does is go to school and work.”

Instead I am going to encourage her to try out. I’m going to be the grownup instead of the pouting brat and tell her she may as well try to make the best of her last two years. She didn’t want to move before either but she made the best of it and she ended up having a remarkable time.

It really IS another chapter in my life. It’s very strange to not be driving Rock Star all around to activities. It’s strange to have gymnastics completely over and done. It’s weird not having any kids over at the house. I’m sure I’ll adjust.

There is no master bathroom here. There are two bathrooms, one upstairs and one downstairs. I can’t speak for everyone else in the house but I use the one that’s closest to me. I’m frequently in the upstairs bathroom that my kids share. It’s much smaller than the bathrooms they used to have, and of course, they didn’t have to share. I no longer have a kitchen with granite countertops. There’s no pool or hot tub or trampoline in the backyard. The furniture is not mine. All of my holiday decor is gone. Again, it is what it is. At least I have a place to call home. I have a mom who welcomed me and my kids with open arms. Some women aren’t that lucky. I try to tell myself that everything I had before was just stuff. One part of me cries out, “But it was my stuff!” The new, more positive me tells the crying part to shut it and reminds me once again that it was just stuff. I’m sure I had too much stuff and didn’t use half of it.

Dropping the rope is hard. So very hard. It reminds of this time my brother pushed me off a bridge. I knew I was falling. I remember screaming, but then I also remember reconciling what was happening. I was falling and there was nothing I could about it except prepare for the landing. Note: This happened when I was much younger. I’m sure I wasn’t more than 12 and probably even younger. He would have been no more than 9 at that point. It was also a low bridge over the creek that ran through my grandparent’s property. I don’t want anyone thinking I had a brother that tried to murder me.

That’s what this whole experience has been like since August 10, 2015. Hearing that my husband was cheating on me once again with the exact same person. Falling. This isn’t happening! What the hell am I going to do? Oh no, it’s happening. How are you going to prepare for impact? Finding out he quit his job and moved out of state. Falling. I can’t control it. Brace yourself. Receiving the text message from him four months later informing me he lost his job and wouldn’t be sending anymore money. Falling. How do I keep everything the same? How can I stay here so that my daughter finishes out high school? What am I going to do about a job? What in the hell am I going to do? There won’t be a save like the last time. I was in a free fall and the only thing I could do was land. I couldn’t stop it.

Here I am today. Nothing is like I had hoped. Everything I had wanted for my kids is gone. They’ve gone from being privileged and pampered to paupers. The rage I feel most days is frightening. I can’t let it out; if I did it would overtake everything. It is that powerful. But here’s the truth. It’s all gone. I can’t make it come back. I will never earn anywhere close to what CF did. I have to accept the fact that we are poor.

I fought against applying for Medicaid. I fought against applying for free textbooks and free lunches. I fought against applying for food stamps (and still haven’t as of yet). All of that is so terribly embarrassing and yet, if your kids needed you to run into a burning building… so I debase myself and hold my hand out for free stuff. I’ve dropped the rope. This is reality. I can hope it isn’t so. I can scream and cry and yell, “It’s not fair!” at the top of my lungs. It doesn’t do any good. Just let yourself fall and prepare for the impact that’s coming. It is what it is.

My car is the last thing I have left over from my old life. For years I had been wanting either a convertible or a sunroof. For years CF had fought me on it, saying that sunroofs leak. I would tell him the new sunroofs are much more durable. Of course, he knew more than I did. Finally he caved. I got my new car (an actual car and not a minivan) with GPS, an aux cord so I could listen to my iPod, Bluetooth for my phone, push button start and a sunroof. I think I might even say I love that car. I have fought against getting rid of it. My argument has been that it’s a new car. I don’t have to worry about repairs. It’s a hybrid so it gets fantastic gas mileage. Plus, because of the miles I’ve put on it for Rock Star’s gymnastics I doubt I would get enough to cover the loan. I also am not sure how I would even get a loan for another car since I’m sure my credit is in the crapper thanks to CF and his nonpayment of bills. Nonetheless, it costs me over $350/month. I don’t have a job currently and it’s not looking like I’m going to get a decent paying one anytime soon. Because it’s a new car insurance is higher for me and I’m sure that’s part of why it’s so high for Rock Star. As much as I hate to get rid of it it’s looking more and more like that’s what I’m going to have to do. I’ll probably get a 10 year old Honda or Toyota and pray that it doesn’t break down and need expensive repairs. I guess I’m back to listening to the radio. I have come to accept that CF is going to end up taking every last thing I ever had over the last twenty years. What’s a car anyway? You only need it to get you from point A to point B. I’ve already lost my home, my furniture, my holiday decorations, my pool, my hot tub, my children’s stability. What the fuck does a car matter?  Rope. Dropped.

My kids will never have awesome Christmases again. I know they’re too old for Elf on the Shelf but our elf won’t ever come visit again because I can’t afford it.  I’m falling and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve dropped the rope. Christmas is going to suck from here on out because I can’t afford much anymore. I can fight it all I want but this is their new reality. Sorry, kids.

My daughter is working a part-time job so that she can afford to buy clothes and make-up she wants and be able to go out and do things. I can’t give her an allowance anymore. At some point she will probably have to contribute to not only paying for her car, but also her insurance and her phone. She will work and work and work to pay bills and she will have nothing left over to pay for movies or dinners or clothes. That’s a little harder to drop the rope on. I never wanted to be that parent. I never wanted that for my child. I followed the rules. I graduated high school, I went to college and graduated, I got married, and THEN I had a baby. Only it didn’t matter. Because my kids are going to end up with nothing anyway. It’s at times like these that I think I shouldn’t have even bothered with college because it’s never paid off for me. I wasted my mother’s money and I’m making less money than the majority of people WITHOUT a college degree.

I look at all those smiling faces on Facebook. They’re sharing pictures of their vacations, their romantic dates, their weddings or upcoming weddings, their kids at Homecoming, their kids participating in sports. I used to have a life like that. I don’t anymore. Drop the rope. I could cry, but what would that gain me? Nothing. Brace for impact. Pick yourself up. Get on with this new life. Stop wishing for the old one because it’s never coming back. It’s like wishing someone who died would come back. It’s not ever going to happen.

I hope this one wasn’t too depressing. I really have found some relief with this whole, “Let It Go” philosophy. Seriously, I find it much easier to just accept the fact that my life is going to suck and deal with it from that point, than it is to flail against the injustice of it all. Yeah, it sucks. I can’t change it. You put your head down and plow on through it. In the words of Larry the Cable Guy, “Get ‘er done!” Do I want to work an $11/hour job? Nope! But if that’s all that’s out there willing to hire me then that’s what I’ll do. And if working for $11/hour means I need a second job then as much as I may hate it that’s what I’ll do as well. I guess the good thing about being poor is that if I don’t get very much vacation time it won’t matter. I can’t afford to go anywhere anyway so who cares if I only get a week after a year of full-time employment? No vacations in Sam’s future. Hey, I’ve had 18 years of vacation time. It’s not like raising kids is any kind of work.

You know, sometimes I wonder if this hasn’t been his end game this whole entire time. I wonder if he hated me so much that he plotted this all out years ago. Step one: Take Sam away from the state she loves. Take away all of her volunteering activities. Take away all of her friends and all of her social activities. Take away any connections and support she has. Step two: Move her 2000 miles across the country and then abandon her after buying a new house, furniture, and car. Start acting like a jackass now that you’re all she has. Make her completely dependent on you and then bail. Don’t support her. Don’t hang out with her. Strip her bare. Step three: Look up your whore of a cousin again. Fuck her. Lie to Sam all summer about everything. Step four: Cash in the remaining stocks, open up a bank account with the whore, interview for jobs out of state, cut Sam and the kids off financially except for what “your lawyer told you you would have to pay in support”. Step five: Quit your job of 15 years, move out of state, don’t tell Sam or the kids. Make Sam wonder if you’re ever going to pay support again; make her wonder if she’ll have to pull the kids out of school mid-school year and devastate them. Step six: After pulling the rug out from under Sam with that whole “quit your job” thing, quit your job again! This time claim to be having a nervous breakdown to try to get out of paying spousal and child support. Leave Sam and the kids destitute, make them move once again, take EVERYTHING away from them once again, and force Sam onto welfare and back into the job force after 18 years of following your pathetic ass across the country.

I wouldn’t put it past him but you know what? There’s nothing I can about it. I will drop the rope. So many people say the best revenge is a life well lived. I don’t know how well I’m going to be living this life; however, I get the sentiment behind it. Sometimes we can’t make them pay; we don’t get justice. We have to pick up the pieces left behind anyway and do our best.

That’s a hard reality to accept- this idea that he and Harley could get away with everything. Yet if that does indeed happen, what can I do? Nothing. Drop the rope. Move forward.

I have no idea how any of this is going to turn out. For now I think I need to listen to the radio or my iPod on my drive back home so I don’t frustrate myself. I need to get a job- any job- even if it doesn’t pay what I need it to so that I can at least stop draining what’s left in my checking account. It’s far better to have my paycheck cover my limited bills, or almost cover my limited bills and then use savings until I can find a second job, as opposed to completely paying for everything out of savings. Look at me being all adult!

I’ve got my kids. I’ve got my dogs. I left my house with the most important “things”. I will never be the person who says: Golly gee! This divorce is just going to be the best thing ever! I KNOW I’m going to find the love of my life now that I’ve cast the shit eating chimp aside. I’ll be so glad I got that divorce once I meet Mr. Right. And I KNOW I’m going to get a great job- one that pays well and stimulates my mind. I’ll meet all these new friends and have a fantastic social network. I’ll start going to church and that’ll just be wonderful, too. Maybe I’ll take a Bible study and become best friends with someone from there. I’m going to volunteer once again and network my ass off! I’m going to feel so much better because I’m out there on my own, not relying on my husband. And I’m sure God will come through and court will go my way and Cousinfucker will end up having to pay me thousands in back support and for arrears and misappropriation of funds; he’ll end up being ordered to pay me substantial spousal and child support as well. Why, I bet he’ll even get up off his ass and get a job so he can actually pay what the judge orders!

I know that’s sarcasm but even taking the sarcasm out of it I’ll never trust that good things are going to happen. He’s shattered those dreams once too often. Every time I had a plan he came along and smashed it. I cannot do that to myself anymore. It’s easier to believe that nothing is ever going to go my way. The best I can do is agree to drop the rope. I can let it go when the judge rules in his favor and I get fucked up the ass. I can refuse to dwell on it when he rides off into the sunset with Harley and then begins his new six figure salary job- not paying a dime in child or spousal support. I could be frustrated or angry but what does that really do? He doesn’t care. Hell, he would probably love it if he knew how much it bugged me that he got away with everything. You learn to swallow that shit sandwich that is your ex-husband leaving you destitute while he goes on to enjoy life with someone else.

Some days I vow to not let him defeat me. I tell myself I’m going to do whatever needs to be done to stand on my own two feet without him. I’m going to raise my kids without his help. I’m going to carve out a great life for myself. I’ll get a job. Make friends. Volunteer. Go to church. I will thrive! And other days I want to curl up in a ball and admit defeat. “Okay, you win, Cousinfucker. You’ve destroyed my life. You’ve taken everything away from me. I’m living on welfare. I live with my mom at age 47. I will never have anything again. I’ll never go on vacation again. I’ll never have a home of my own. I’m never going to be able to provide for our kids the way you did. I’ll just lay here in the fetal position and wait for death to come.” You may be glad to  know that lately I’m telling myself the former more often than the latter.

I’ve heard a lot of sad stories over on Chump Lady. I’m always amazed at the women (yes, it’s always the women) who talk about having to work until the day they die, or living in a tiny home after living in a huge house, or barely scraping by, and yet they feel so much better.

“I left behind a 6000 square foot home. I work three jobs just to make ends meet and I’m still in danger of having my electricity shut off. My car is barely hanging on; I defeat death each time I drive it. I have no money, no savings, my life is a giant struggle but I’M SO MUCH BETTER OFF now that I’ve left my cheater.”

Really? I guess I must be a shallow person because I don’t feel that I’m better off. When he was paying me spousal and child support I felt I was better off, but now that he’s claiming PTSD and spending his days drinking and fucking I don’t feel better off at all. One of my friends told me way back in the beginning that she was so happy I was finally out of my marriage because she was so worried about me and what I would do as his social anxiety got worse and worse and I did everything on my own. She has one of those marriages where they do a lot of things together, both as a family and as a couple. I’ve never had that. It’s not my normal. I can’t miss what I never had. Fifteen months ago I was all alone. My husband was shutting himself off in the bedroom and crying all the time. We didn’t do things together as a family; we didn’t do things as a couple. I was still a pampered housewife living on six figures; my kids had everything they needed and most of what they wanted. Now? I’m still alone; I don’t have a new Prince Charming in my life. I doubt I ever will. I’m on welfare. I got to break the bad news to the kids that we were moving once again. I got to enroll the kids in new schools and ride that tidal wave of emotion as we waited to see if Rock Star would go to her preferred school, all along believing she wouldn’t get in. I got to break the bad news to her that she didn’t get to get her license; I held her as she cried. I get to go through all the headaches and heartaches and he’s living with the slut without a care in the world. Which is better? The world where I’m alone but I’m living on six figures and my kids are happy? Or the one where I’m alone, my husband is off fucking his cousin, and I’m on welfare? Gosh, that’s a really tough choice. Let me think about that a minute and I’ll get back to you.

Turns out, it didn’t take me a full minute to make my decision. I prefer the money. I wish I were more like those women who are so grateful to be away from the cheater.  But I’m not. I like having money. I like being able to take care of my kids. I like being able to give them the things I never had as a kid. The only thing I can do at this point is drop the rope. It’s not what I wanted but it’s what I’ve got. I’ve got to figure out other ways to make things happen for me and my kids.

My sister-in-law was telling me that if I got a job at her company once I had been there a year I would get a 3% raise! Wow- I would go from making $11/hour to $11.33/hour! Can someone who is really good at math let me know how many years I would need to work before I finally reached $30k/year? I’m thinking probably 10. Many people have told me I have to start at the bottom and work my way up. I don’t have that kind of time! My daughter graduates next year. My son is an 8th grader. I don’t have 10-15 years to work my way up the ladder. By the time I’m making any kind of decent money my kids will be self-supporting. I’ve pretty much decided that the only way I’m going to make any kind of decent money is if I go back to school. I’m leaning heavily towards nursing. I don’t necessarily want to be a nurse but I figure if I’m going to hate what I do I may as well make good money while I’m doing it.

It’s not that I think I will hate it. I have just never had any desire to be a nurse. I’ve known a lot of people, though, that are going back to school and they are all choose nursing. It pays well and it seems like they’re always hiring. I figure I can work in the OR and then I only have to deal with unconscious people.

Or, I could become a teacher. That one is a little trickier though because you never know what school system is hiring. I wouldn’t be assured of getting a job around here and I can’t afford to move. I won’t do that to my kids again either. Unlike their father, I mean it when I say I don’t want to move them around constantly. I would probably prefer to be a teacher as opposed to a nurse but it doesn’t pay as well. On the bright side, I would have summers off.

I’m rambling now. I am doing better. I am at the acceptance stage. I think that’s the last one but I haven’t reviewed the stages of grief lately. I’m grinning and bearing it. My mantra is: I can’t change it; I just have to accept it and do what needs to be done. Embrace the suck. Drop the rope. Let it go. Or as a fellow blogger put it: Sometimes evil wins. What are you going to do?

Trying To Put a Positive Spin On This (But Not Succeeding)

Note: I’m currently hard at work on another version of this because I know it’s depressing. So, even though this doesn’t read like it I am feeling a little bit better. Not because anything amazing has happened recently. No, in fact the job that I really would have been interested in rejected me but I’m telling myself, “That’s only one job. There will be others.”

I’ve been commenting on another person’s blog and some of the advice I’ve given is: Take it day by day or even hour by hour. And: Being in limbo is the worst; it’s all that unknowing. I’ve even written here that there is relief to be found when I finally drop the rope and let it go. I think I need to take my own advice.

I can’t be alone to think because every time I think my mind is flooded with bad thoughts. Not bad as in, “Uh-oh! She’s going to do something illegal!” More like, bad as in overwhelming and doubting myself and believing my life is basically over and I will never have anything again ever. So I can’t be alone to think. I’m going to try playing the radio or my iPod instead and singing loudly.

Speaking of music and positive thinking, I finally took my cheater songs off as my alarm. Back when Cousinfucker was still living in the house I decided to set all my alarms to songs that were in my Freedom songlist. There was “Before He Cheats”, “Cheater Cheater”, “Look It Up”, “Your Lips Are Movin’”, and “Since U Been Gone”. I knew he could hear them every morning so I delighted in playing them. But, he hasn’t lived with me in over six months. I got tired of listening to them. Honestly, I don’t like having the same song played over and over for too long. I need to mix it up. So, I downloaded some new songs and I’m using them instead. No love songs, but nothing about cheating either.
Other things I can’t allow myself to do: I can’t think ahead; I can’t visualize the future. I never allow myself to picture good things. I can’t allow myself to do so because I don’t want to deal with the disappointment if things don’t turn out well. Remember, in my version of being a pessimist it’s not that I’m wanting bad things to happen or even expecting them to happen. I just don’t expect good things to happen and I’m fully prepared for the worst case situation. If something great happens, well, that’s wonderful; however, I never anticipate that.

As much as it feels counterproductive I need to take it day by day and not think about anything long term. No use in worrying about not getting a job. Worrying won’t help me get one, and if I do get hired someplace then I worried for nothing.

The idea that there is a higher power that wants me to go through all of this bullshit for some purpose makes me want to vomit; nonetheless, I’m going to go with it for now. It’s that or go crazy. So hey, if anyone out there can shed some light on why God has decided to kick my ass feel free to let me know. The idea that the one set of footprints I see in the sand is Him carrying me is a BULLSHIT right about now. But hey, maybe He decided I was too materialistic, or too snobbish. Maybe He figured I needed to be humbled and completely broken. I don’t know. Maybe losing everything will somehow free me and that’s the lesson. Yes, because now I no longer wish to live in a spacious beautiful 4000 square foot home with modern amenities. I don’t want granite countertops or a jacuzzi tub or a big huge walk-in shower. Those poor, poor people who have all those luxuries will never know the pleasure of gardening and picking fruit from their own fruit trees, shopping for off brand food at the grocery stores, wiping their asses with cheap scratchy toilet paper or making clothes out of dryer lint.

I’m not doing a very good job at this one, am I? Perhaps I should skip over all the “It’s happening for a reason” crap. It really pisses me off. Because here’s the thing. I was a nice person. I was generous. I was kind. I volunteered. I gave and gave and gave. I didn’t act like I was better than others. I didn’t make fun of people. I was empathetic. I was a good person so I don’t know why I’ve lost everything. I don’t know what else God wants me to do or learn. Hell, I went to church until I moved. Now I have no desire to go. Picasso is an atheist and Rock Star really doesn’t care to go again and start all over. Why bother? I know some people say the church can be a great resource and a way to network. I have found that the church is a great resource for some people, usually those in the spotlight. The rest of us are left to flounder.

I was very involved in my church years ago before we moved out west. I led a small group, worked in the children’s church every week, helped with the meal team, helped out with Vacation Bible School, created and led the MOPS group. When I was getting ready to move and CF was already out there working, leaving me with two small kids all on my own, one of the pastors asked for help on my behalf. Two people volunteered to send us a meal. Two.
I never felt like I fit in at the church I attended out west. I met a few people but only in the sense that I knew their names and would say hello. I didn’t make any friendships outside of church. Eventually I quit going and cut off all contact.

Most recently we attended for almost 7 months before moving. I never really met a single person in that entire time. They were plenty friendly. The pastor said hello. But I didn’t make any new friends and there was certainly no networking. There was no one offering up a low rent house that would accept pets. No one who was offering a job. Which is what everyone assumes seems to happen when you join a church.

I could start attending on Sunday but the chances that I would eventually befriend someone who could help me job wise are extremely slim. And call me quaint or old-fashioned but I believe the purpose of going to church should be strengthening your faith and your relationship with God.

I’m going to do my best to drop the rope and let it go. I can’t control it. It sucks to the extreme. But I have to learn to say, “I have lost everything and I’m okay with that.” I have to learn to separate my life into chapters. My life the past two years is one chapter. This is another chapter. It is the same for my kids. I have to learn to be okay with this new chapter in Rock Star’s life.

At one time she was a gymnast. Our life was scheduled around gymnastics. That was a chapter. Then we moved. It was really difficult for her to leave it behind, but it was also very difficult for me. I had lived almost all of her life as a gymnast’s mom. That was who I was and now it was gone.

Instead she became popular and had the world by its tail. She was a star on the high school gymnastics team but gymnastics wasn’t her whole life like before. She had a great group of friends. She went to football games. She dated boys. She began cheering. She went to youth group. She knew her principal and her teachers. She was voted hottest girl in her grade. The boys wanted to date her, the girls wanted to be her friend, and everybody watched her. That was another chapter. Then we moved again. She’s not popular. No one knows who she is. Gymnastics is completely gone. There will be no cheerleading. Her only outside activity is working a job. There will be no more sports banquets. There will be no Hall of Fame. There will be no pictures of her gracing the cover of the Booster Club program her senior year. There are no more competitions or meets. She had to give up her team captain spot. This is her new chapter. There is no point in dwelling on everything she’s lost because she can’t get it back. She had a really good life and now she doesn’t. At one point she had everything. Now she has nothing. Those things happen. Honestly, if anyone would take her back there I would let her go live with them so she could finish out her last two years at the school she loves. If she told me she wanted to be homeschooled, or to do online school I would let her. There’s absolutely no point in her attending this school because she’s not getting a damn thing out of it. I had a kid who was having a dream high school experience; now I don’t. It sucks. The rest of high school for her is going to be nothing more than 2 years to get through so she can go to college, assuming we can get enough aid for her to go because I sure as hell can’t afford to pay for her to go. Two more years in this chapter for her. Two years of putting her head down, gritting her teeth and working part-time.

This is supposed to be positive though, correct? So let’s spin that into this new chapter will include her focusing completely on her education, downsizing her social group to an extremely small group, freeing herself from the illusion of those high school glory days. You don’t want to peak in high school, right? And this way she won’t be sad about graduating and leaving behind friend because she really doesn’t have any. Plus she is developing a wonderful work ethic. I mean sure, she had a fantastic work ethic before and had to learn to prioritize when she was training 20+ hours for gymnastics and when she was busy with after school activities. But this is different and so much more valuable. She’s going to get so much out of providing for herself and no longer relying on her mother to provide her anything other than food and shelter. She won’t be one of those spoiled, pampered kids who’s had everything handed to her.

I think the biggest thing is being in limbo. Those months between D-Day and the temporary support orders were rough because I didn’t know what was going to happen. I ended up getting screwed but at least once the screwing was complete I knew what I had to work with. I’m back in that situation. I have no idea how court is going to go. My guess is I’m once again going to get screwed. Hell, even if he’s ordered to pay a decent amount of support it’s not like I’m going to see it, and I’ve been told that if the judge believes his sob story about PTSD then I can’t even throw his sorry ass into jail for nonpayment. BUT once we have a settlement I know what I have to work with. There won’t be anymore guessing. If I had to guess though I would say I’m going to end up with half of his 401k, which I can’t touch unless I want to pay huge taxes that would result in me netting maybe half of the amount and would leave me with no retirement funds. I also figure I’ll be awarded half of his pension, which again, won’t do me any good until he retires. I’m guessing I’ll receive no spousal support, arrears, or reimbursement of money spent on Harley. In a similar vein I don’t think I’ll ever see half of the stock he cashed in and spent on her, or any of the stock he walked away from, or my half of the damn tax return. Whatever child support he’s ordered to pay, which I believe will be minimal anyway, I will never see. I would also guess that the marital debt will end up being evenly split since Cousinfucker isn’t working, although to be honest I wouldn’t be surprised if I got saddled with more than 50% if I get a job before we go to court and he’s still sitting around moping.

So what do I with my guesses? Do I tell myself not to worry because that’s in the future and I have no way of knowing? Or do I just say, “What the hell? I’m on my own. It sucks. It’s unfair. But this is what I have to work with so let’s do it.”

I know I’m still clinging to that rope of my old life. I also know it’s gone. It will never be recovered. It’s hard to figure out whether or not I should just accept that and the fact that I will never have anything worth having again, or if I should think positive thoughts and believe with all my heart that I’ll get a great job and I’ll be able to provide for my kids without government assistance and can tell that shit eating chimp to fuck off.

Eh

I asked Rock Star yesterday morning if she hated it here. Her answer was, “Eh.” I asked her what that meant. She looked at me and replied, “Well, I went from being everything to being nothing.” So for all of you who were so confident that she was going to do amazing things here at her new school? You were all wrong. Again, I point to the blog entry, “Why I’m a Pessimist”. My kid, a former superstar, is a nameless, faceless nobody with no driver’s license. Homecoming is this weekend. I don’t think she’s going to the game and I know she’s not going to the dance. While I get to watch friend after friend post pictures of their handsome sons in tuxes or lovely daughters in beautiful dresses I get to post a picture of my kid wearing jeans and sitting alone in her room. I won’t, more than likely, but if I did, that’s what her Homecoming picture would look like.

Eh is also how I’m feeling, folks. I haven’t been around as much because I’ve been trying to write a resume and cover letters, apply for jobs online, go to job fairs, and other unpleasant, confidence shattering experiences. I spent over an hour today trying to apply at temp agencies only to not be able to find a damn parking space at the first agency and then to find out the second agency is no longer at the address that was listed.

I know that the whole “no parking” probably sounds like a weak excuse. Bear with me. Our downtown is a mess. They are doing construction on multiple streets at once as they put roundabouts in and create two way traffic after twenty or thirty years of one way streets. So, first I had to find the place and needed to make several loops around all this construction in the first place. Then once I’ve found it I have to try to figure out where to turn in for parking because there is nothing in front. The agency is right up on the road with no parking lot. I go around the block once again only to find out that the parking spots in back of the agency are all labeled “Bank Parking Only”. Awesome! I finally said, “Fuck it!” and moved on to the second agency.

Naturally, I go the wrong way the first time and then I pass it by the second time. Well, pass it by is kind of a misnomer because it ended up that the agency is no longer there!

To top off this wonderful day I filled out an online application for a job that I’m actually really interested in. I submit the application and attach my resume and cover letter. Then I go to apply for another similar position (doesn’t pay as well though). It was at that moment that I realized when I filled out my employment dates I only used the month and year so they didn’t get recorded on the application. So much for my cover letter where I state all my volunteer experience has led me to pay attention to detail. Guess I won’t be getting an interview for that job.

I’ve also done as so many people suggested and went down to the local unemployment office. Oh, they’ll help you with your resume! They’ll help you find a job! Guess what? They don’t. I talked to a “jobs specialist” for 30-45 minutes and he basically asked me some questions and showed me some websites where I could look for jobs. Wow! You know, I’m fairly certain I could do that from the comfort of my home while wearing my jammies and eating donuts. As for the resume writing? Oh, don’t make me laugh! I was told to come back later that day and when I did I was given his card and told to call him and make an appointment. So, I did. And he didn’t have appointments available until the 22nd (and this was on Friday). I was encouraged to come to a “networking group” and to bring up the topic of resume help.

Yesterday I went to a job fair. I talked to a few people. I feel like, again, it was a waste of time. It’s not like anyone was hiring on the spot. It was pretty much a chance to give companies your resume, which again, I could have done without going to a damn job fair. I had already put in applications or looked at their online job search for three of the companies that I talked to. The only company that seemed really interested in getting people signed up was a casino. Unfortunately, all three locations are at least 30-45 minutes away, I would have to work evenings, and when I went to look on the website it looked like the position I had talked to the representative about was only part time. AND they didn’t bother with listing the pay. I’m not driving 45 minutes for a part-time $9/hour job.

Finally, I answered my mom’s phone for her. Her friend told me it was good to hear laughter in my voice again. This was actually really funny because I’ve spent the day crying off and on.  She was encouraging me, telling me how wonderful I am and how I can do this and she just knows I’ll get a good job and do great things. Then she goes on to say something along the lines of, “And maybe you’ll get a job at one of the hospitals making $14 or $15 an hour but you can still apply for food stamps and get government aid. You’ve never taken it before but if you need it you should apply for it and take it.” Lucky me I’m still eligible for food stamps! That’s the sad part. I can work 40 hours a week, even get a second job, but I’m getting paid so little I still can’t support myself and my kids and I still qualify for and will probably need food stamps. Life is grand!

Seriously, if there are any women out there reading this that are contemplating quitting your jobs to be a stay at home mom DON’T DO IT! Even if you hate your job, even if all your money is going to daycare, keep working! If your husband tells you he makes enough money and he wants you to concentrate on the kids and the house tell him to fuck off. If he wants to relocate and you need to give up your job tell him you’ll miss him. For the love of God, ladies, don’t EVER rely on a man. Sorry, my male readers; it’s not an indictment of you. It’s more that as women we are extremely vulnerable when we rely on our husbands for our livelihood and our future retirement.

Can I just tell you how completely humiliating this all is? I’ve gone from living on six figures a year to applying for Medicaid and food stamps, and being approved for free textbooks and lunches for my kids.

I hate that motherfucker. I KNOW he’s going to get away with everything. A judge is going to buy his bullshit and rule that he doesn’t have to pay me any spousal support. Hell, if I have a job by the time we go to court I wouldn’t be surprised to find out I’m ordered to pay HIM. And child support? Everyone says there’s no way he’ll get out of paying child support at the very least but I have my doubts. Regardless, even if he is ordered to pay it I doubt it will be much. People have said that if he does get disability I will be able to take part of that. My reply is, “Big fucking deal.” It’s not like he’s getting company disability where he would receive 75% of his pay. No, he’ll end up getting something like $2000/month. If I’m really really lucky he’ll be ordered to pay around $500/month. What a joke. I won’t take it. I’ll burn it every damn month before I let him puff his chest out and declare he’s supporting his kids. I have no doubt he’s decided that if he’s going to have to pay out most of his paycheck to me then he may as well not bother with working. Disability will pay him almost as much as he has had left over after paying me spousal and child support so why not sit around drinking, watching TV and fucking a whore?

Everybody keeps telling me that I can advance and that just because I’m not making much now doesn’t mean that I won’t make more later. Unfortunately, I’m not starting out with a blank slate. I’m starting out with almost $1000 in bills/month and two teenage kids. I’m probably looking at paying another retainer to my lawyer which means maxing out two credit cards and paying an additional $100/month. Once Rock Star finally gets her license I’ll have another $115 to add to my monthly obligations. I have a daughter who will begin her senior year in less than a year. My prediction is that I won’t have money to pay for senior pictures. I won’t have money to pay for graduation announcements. It’s not like she has a lot of friends or like I know a lot of people around here, but I’m not going to have money to throw a graduation party. Hell, at this point I don’t have enough money to take her out to dinner afterwards. Maybe if she’s really really lucky I can go through the McDonald’s drive-thru and get her an extra value meal instead of having to buy something off the Value Menu. Maybe let her have two sweet teas instead of only one. Meanwhile, in Whore Town I’m sure Harley’s daughter will have one hell of a graduation celebration and Cousinfucker will be there with bells on, cheering her on and playing the proud dad.

Her kids haven’t missed out on anything; they haven’t had to give a damn thing up. My kids have lost their home, their friends; they’ve been moved yet again. My son is doing well but my daughter has nothing to look forward to and is resigned to two more years of hell in this high school, just getting through the day and getting a diploma. No cheerleading. No gymnastics. No more being a superstar. No more being the talk of the school. Just plow through and get the diploma and don’t ever look back. Her kids got a new puppy, DirectTV, car repairs, and thousands of dollars in gifts. Her daughter continues on with cheerleading. She didn’t have to quit. My daughter works a part-time job because her dad is a fucking deadbeat and I won’t be making enough money to pay for her clothes, make-up, and dinners out.

I know my posts haven’t been cheerful lately. I’ve been downright morose. What can I say? I’m feeling the pressure. I do not believe for one minute that I’m going to get any help from him so all of this falls on my shoulders. I need a job. I’m freaking out over my resume and cover letters; I think they look like shit. Everything I’ve been trying to do seems to take five times as long as it should. I’m overwhelmed. My heart breaks daily for my daughter who is struggling. I wonder if I’m going to end up leaving my kids to raise themselves these last few years of their childhood because I’ll be off working all the time in order to be able to put food on the table and have some leftover money to buy them clothes, or take them to the movies (when???) or out to dinner (again, when???). I’m probably mildly depressed, too.

I am going to do my best to turn this around and stop moping so much. I can’t promise miracles but I will try.

A Letter to My Kids

Hey Kids,

The time has come for you to find out that your mom is not all powerful.  That I am, in fact, human and I make mistakes.  So I want to apologize to both of you.

I’m sorry I picked such a wretched excuse for a human being to be your father.  He has failed you in ways I couldn’t even begin to imagine.  For years I listened to him whine on and on about his father and how he was rejected by him.  But you know what?  He always financially supported him and that’s more than I can say for your own dad.

I’m sorry I chose to be a stay at home mom instead of working a job so that when this time came I could support you without his help.  Don’t get me wrong.  I loved being at home with the two of you.  I loved being the one to take you places and plan school parties and volunteer at your schools.  I loved going on field trips and being here at home at the end of day.  I loved being able to watch you at all of your meets and games, being the one to drop you off and pick you up, being able to travel with you.  I truly did.  In hindsight, though, I never should have done it.  I should have worked.  I should have told your dad that his career wasn’t more important than my own job.  I should have followed my passion and done something with my life aside from being your mom.  I know that sounds like a shitty thing to say and I don’t mean it to be because, again, I loved being here for you.  I still do.  But I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place now.  I’m sinking fast and I’m taking both of you with me.

I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to him more and baby and cater to him less.  Maybe if that had been the case he would have left sooner and I would have more options.  Maybe it would have helped and he never would have done any of this.

I’m sorry I can’t keep you here through graduation, Rock Star.  I cry every time I think about it even though everyone tells me you’re going to be fine.  I’m going to end gymnastics for you forever.  I’m going to take away you being captain for your team.  I know high school gymnastics was not what you wanted and won’t take you to college but it was better than no gymnastics at all.  I’m taking you from a place where you are a very big fish in a pretty small pond and I’m going to turn you into a goldfish in the ocean, if goldfish could survive in salt water.  I feel like I’m ruining your high school experience and I am so so sorry for that, my sweet girl.  Once again, I listened to your dad whine for years about how he was constantly moved as a child and never attended the same school each year.  He never switched high schools though, a privilege he is denying you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t do whatever it was that I needed to do to stay married and give you two a stable home, even if one of your parents wasn’t always sane or even around much.  If I knew what I did wrong, or what I didn’t do that he wanted me to do, I would have taken the appropriate action.  But I have no idea what it is I did or didn’t do that made your dad choose to have an affair.  Honestly, I know  that I can only be responsible for my own actions and he is responsible for his.  I am truly sorry, though, that I couldn’t make this marriage work.

Finally, I am so sorry I agreed to this move.  I am so sorry I tore your lives apart for this shit storm we are in now.  I’m sorry for the pool that we are probably never going to swim in even though we’ve spent a crapload of money on it.  I’m sorry about your friends and your sports and your schools.  I’m sorry about everything that you’ve had to lose and all that you’re still going to lose.  I’m sorry I don’t have a home of our own to move us to.  I’m sorry for all the dreams you have that aren’t going to come true because we have to leave.  I’m sorry for all the plans that you are making that aren’t going to happen.  I’m sorry we’re going to be poor and your lives are going to be turned so far around you aren’t even going to recognize them.  I’m sorry for everything.

Your uncle tells me every time I say that that it’s not me who is ruining your lives- it’s your dad.  I’m here, though, and he’s not.  So I’m the one who is apologizing.  I cannot apologize enough for what is going to become of your lives.  I would say I should have picked better but then I wouldn’t have you two.  At any rate, I failed you both, and for that I’m sorry.  I’ll do my very best to make it up to you somehow.  I promise.

Love,

Mom

I Gave You 21 Years; Why Couldn’t You Give Me 2?

 

I’m probably dating myself here but I feel like the newspaper carrier in Better Off Dead.  You know the one?  The little kid that keeps screaming, “I want my two dollars!”  That’s me.  Only my rant is, “Why couldn’t you give me two years after I’ve spent our entire marriage coddling you?”

Honestly, our entire marriage I babied him.  I gave into him.  I let him call the shots almost always.  I moved even when I was perfectly happy.  He screwed around with Harley, lied about it, tried to cover it up, and then *I* was the one that made all these changes.  He didn’t change a damn thing.  I gave and gave and gave.  I put up with his “social anxiety”, his “PTSD”, all his bullshit “issues”.  I dealt with him acting like every damn cold he had was the Black Plague and death was imminent.  I accepted the fact that I was going to have to do a lot of this parenting stuff on my own.  I accepted the fact that we wouldn’t do a lot of things as a family because he had better things to do.  I accepted and dealt with a lot. But after the first discovery he couldn’t give me even two years.

It wasn’t just two years to “get over” his first emotional affair.  It was two years to get over that, to accept that he had done it, to try to move on and forgive him and put it all behind us.  But it was also learning to accept the fact that his family betrayed me and supported Harley.  They refused to cut ties with her, citing the fact that she was family; they gave her a ringside seat into my life, our life.  Every reconciliation site advocates no contact but it didn’t really matter if CF and I had no contact with her; everyone he saw when he would go back home to visit had contact with her.  They fawned over her.  I had to learn these new parameters and try to rise above, be the bigger person and tell myself, “I can accept the fact that his mom has a relationship with her and one with me.”  Yeah, if that currently describes you STOP IT!  I was an idiot.  I ate way too many shit sandwiches.  But at the time I knew it made Cousinfucker unhappy when he had to choose between his family and me.  I told myself that if our marriage was going to get back on track that at some point I was going to have to drop the rope and be the bigger person because his family is too stupid and insensitive to ever realize what they’re doing is hurtful, and I can’t keep making him choose between us (despite how right I really was!).

It was learning to accept the fact that his sister would stab me in the back every chance she got.  She never supported our marriage once he began his affair with Harley as far as I’m concerned.  When he told her he was messing around with Harley the first time her advice was to do what makes him happy.  When he complained about the money I would spend she would agree with him that I wasted money.  Funny that neither of them actually knew how I spent the money.  Yes, I was wasting it on frivolous things like groceries, the mortgage, utilities, car payments and insurance, sports for the kids, clothes for the kids, pet food… the list of financial abuses goes on and on!  After sending me a friend request on Facebook over a year after his EA was discovered she whined to him that I had declined it and she was just done!  I could hardly blame her though.  After all, she had reached out to me dozens of times at that point- calling, texting, emailing, FB friend requests.  Oh wait- that never happened.  Yes, this savior of our marriage NEVER reached out to me.  When I discovered his little exchange with his nephew about the tattoos and marrying the whore I texted her and told her to check up on her brother.  That was the one and only time that we had any kind of exchange.  It was started by me and she never checked up on me again.  And of course he once again had to play the poor, pitiful victim.  He couldn’t have a relationship with her if I didn’t like her.  Oh, she just loved and supported her little brother unconditionally.  It made him so sad that he couldn’t have his sister visit our house.  Believe me, I did set him straight on that one!  I reminded him that his sister hadn’t visited us in more than ten years at that time; she didn’t come to our house because she didn’t want to come to our house and I was not going to take the blame for her no longer being “welcome” at our house.

I’m sensing a theme here and it goes kind of like this:  Sam, you just need to understand that you are at the bottom of my priority list.  I’ll throw you under the bus to anyone who will listen and when they stab you in the back while you’re trying to climb out from under the bus tires, I’m going to need you to smile real pretty for them.  You gotta make nice because these people, though I whine and complain about how they’re never there for me and your family is more of a family to me than mine is, are way more important to me than you are.

It was discovering they had made plans to move me and his kids closer to her so that they could carry on their affair and then being asked to trust that everything was over and that this move he wanted was not about her.  Oh, and did I mention that this occurred months after DDay?  Yes, my one year anti-versary was spent in a brand new house only hours away from Harley the Whore.  I moved across the country narrowing the distance between my husband and his mistress by about twenty hours and he wants to go around telling everyone I hate him.  You entitled, selfish ass!

To sum up: I find out in August, the day of my daughter’s birthday party and only days after my stepfather has died, that my husband has been lying and cheating all summer long.  Two months later I find out he was making plans to marry the whore and they were going to get tattoos together.  Three months after that he accepts the offer for the new job which will take us hours away from her.  And he had been talking about this move the whole entire time, offering to give it up for me because even though he was miserable he would be willing to live in misery so that we could all be happy.  You are such a fake, Cousinfucker.

I then am being asked to acclimate to a new town, one that is much smaller than any we’ve lived in for years.  I’m asked to leave all my friends behind.  I’m asked to leave all my volunteer activities behind.  I can’t find anything similar out here and can’t really find anything to do.  I have 3 or 4 friends.  If we want to count people that I’ve met as friends then I may be up to around eight but it doesn’t mean I actually do anything with these people.  My support network is gone.  My tight knit group of gymnast moms is gone.  There’s no more traveling for gymnastics so no more team dinners and sightseeing with a bunch of friends.  No more Bunko.

I’m watching my kids, specifically my son, struggle with this change.  I know he misses his friends.  I know he misses hockey and playing the cello.  He missed his last year of elementary school because at his new school 6th grade is the first year of middle school, instead of the last year of elementary school.  He missed out on the Valentine’s Day dance, the DARE program, 6th grade graduation.

My daughter adjusted beautifully but it was still painful for her to leave behind gymnastics.  She has continued on in a lesser capacity but it’s not the same.  She knows she’ll never improve.  It was, and still is, difficult for her to watch as all her teammates advance and learn new skills.  She recently said to me, “Think about how good I would be now if I hadn’t had to quit.” When asked if she would give up her new life and all the new experiences she has been given in order to be a Level 10 she answers without hesitation, “In a heartbeat.”

I came back from visiting everyone this summer renewed and refreshed, ready to tackle the world and to grow deep roots in my new community.  I needed less than two damn years to get over his emotional affair, to accept the new relationship with his family, and to adjust to a new town.  TWO!  But apparently that was too much to ask of him.  It needed to be instantaneous or he felt unloved, hated even.  I didn’t trust him; I would never be able to get over what he had done.  Cousinfucker, you are a pathetic piece of human excrement.

I gave him twenty-one years of my life.  Twenty-one years of babying him, holding his hand, propping him up, dealing with his various issues, moving all over the place, taking care of him, telling him he was the most special boy who ever lived, and defending him ferociously against anyone who would go against him.  Twenty-one years of listening to him whine, bitch, and complain.  Twenty-one years of doctor’s appointments, ER visits and the like.  Twenty-one years of him being miserable and unhappy about one thing or another.  Twenty-one years, everybody. He couldn’t give me two.