Christmas 2015

Christmas. It has passed and I am still breathing. Thank God. Waking up Christmas Eve,  I really didn't think I was going to survive it. But I did.

I spent it alone. Which, by the way, I have done a lot over the past few years. But this year, I wasn't worried about poor fucktard, all alone and sad on Christmas. I doubt he was alone-back then or now. I doubt he gave me a second thought-back then or now. That says tons about him and nothing about me. I wasn't under the weight of his never ending lies this year. I slept most of the day. Binge watched Homeland and nursed a cold.

And I didn't cry one time. Didn't squirt a single tear. I slept-like a dang baby, snuggled up with my dog and my fake fireplace.

And I survived.

Next year, maybe I will more than survive. I hope so....

Fresh Meat

Men suck. They are just animals who only look after themselves and eat their dang young for breakfast. I have a scent. The scent of fresh meat at the market place. It is disgusting. How do men know you are a wounded dang animal? I used to say I was a freak magnet. If there was a Chester near by, he would find me. Now I know I am a dang freak magnet and have been my whole damn life even when I believed love and goodness and forever was possible. It was a damn lie.

I work with the public. In one day, I had three different men STRONGLY come on to me.

Man #1, my gay friend. Claiming he would go straight if I would give him a chance. Um, NO!

Man #2 going thru his second divorce asked my coworker for my name, stood in line to talk to me, held up the line trying to get my number, which DUH is not available to anyone, only to give me his when he left.

Man #3 super cute, sexy accent , MARRIED regular customer in the parking lot when I went to lunch. Wanted to hug me, tried to stick his tongue down my throat and get me into his car. Oh my imaginary friend, if you were real and knew me, you would know how this effected me. Haven't slept well in days. As if I weren't already a hot damn mess.

Freak magnet. What does fresh meat smell like? And how do I wash the scent away???

I hate my life. And I hate fucktard for destroying my last bit of belief that there was any good in this world. I used to say he blamed me for everything-even bad weather. Now I blame him. I lived a sheltered life, totally believing in him and us and love and goodness and forever and NOW I am alone, unprotected in the dang lion's den, he is free of the weight of boring old me, and I am alone, and honestly PISSED off!

Happily ever single doesn't sound as scary as it used to. Life in this world however? Scary as hell. Men suck.

Sick Day

I took a sick day from work. Haven't used a single sick day in a year. Took one today....to find an f-ing lawyer so I could end my f-ing life.  I am sad beyond words. Beyond words. I cannot go on. I don't know how. I love him. I hate who he has become. I can't breathe. I can't eat. I don't want to breathe. I don't want to eat. I sound suicidal. I honestly am not.  I am just so heartbroken.

The same day I was served divorce papers, I got mail from the court saying he had pushed this off, filed a motion saying he wanted this moved to the inactive, dead, dormant file. You know-not really wanting to do this, really actually love my wife but don't know how to fix this file. Well in his next breath, he went forward. Threw me away like trash. Trash.....and I am so heartbroken I cannot breathe. So I write to you....my imaginary friend, who won't judge, or walk away because MY opinion on my life is contrary to what you think I should feel, do, say.

And I am heartbroken. And I don't know how to keep breathing. And my everything? Well he threw me away like trash.

So I took a sick day today. My first. In over a year. Because I cannot function. I want to go to bed and never wake up. My best friend, my better half, my person....my only person.....threw me away.

money and other complications

I need new bras. And new face stuff.

 But I was served papers yesterday that said we were irretrievably broken and couldn't buy or spend extravagantly on anything until this is finished-which can be done rather quickly. And oh so easily. 30 years of my life, with someone I loved and would have done anything for, and fought until the death for, can be finished in 90 days.

Ironically, do you know what 90 days from the day I was served is?? My 29th wedding anniversary.
90 days is all it takes to end my life, my happily ever after, my until death do us part.

And the only conversation we have had since I knew I was being served? He said all I seemed to be worried about is money. And he couldn't have been colder. Money? Really? Did he ever know me? Did he ever really exist? But I need new bras. And those cost money. And shoot me before I ask him for money. Money is what is on his mind.

Mine? That cute old couple eating ice cream, that will never be us. Loving me, holding me when I am sad, or happy, or scared, or mad, or...just because he loves to be touching me. That will never be me again. Kicking his butt fishing, nope not me. Laughing at stupid inappropriate things that only the two of us understand? Nope. Not me? Holidays. Ya never again.. Or hitting the snooze button and then rolling over until the next snooze just to hit it again? Nope. Not me. Ever again. Him putting his forehead to my forehead to ease his stress while he melts my heart? Nope. My best friend, the only person on the planet who gets (should I say got) me, the only place I have ever belonged, the one person I want to talk to on a bad day, a good day, on a regular day.  No. Never again. That is what is on my mind.

Fear of living under the freeway because I cannot support myself? Yes. That is me BUT no, honestly, I would give anything, ANYTHING, to not need his stupid money. But I need freaking bras and face stuff. And I gave my everything to him.

 I really may not survive this...really I don't think what is left of me can face the future. And no. Money has nothing to do with it.

The End

Irretrievably broken. That's what the paperwork says. Irretrievably broken.

I pray dear God,  I am not. But today, not so sure. Thought about writing an obituary for who I used to be, who he used to be. Sadly, those people are dead. I didn't get the honor of holding his hand, stroking his face, when he died. I am not exactly sure when it happened. I was robbed of that privilege. That closure. I was robbed of so much. Robbed. I have clung to life, always polly friggin Anna. Today, I died.  Except not dead enough because this is fucking unbearable.

And now I fear I am irretrievably broken. Forever.

And he is free. Of me. Which is what he has been striving for...for at least the last 8 years. Well not him. The man I love died. I just don't know when. Nor did I have the privilege of singing Amazing Grace to him as he passed. But he, whoever took my love's place, is free. Something I will never be.

And I am irretrievably broken. Like the paperwork says.

Copy and paste blog....thanks rh

Considering the Other Side

APRIL 15, 2015 ~ 15GEN

I remember shortly after D-day I was having a meltdown and my husband was trying to comfort me.  In the midst of his attempt he said “I’m struggling with this too.”

Looking back I can see he meant it as a “we’re in this together” statement.

But, at the time I remember thinking “maybe you are, but the difference is this is a self-inflicted wound for you.  Surely, that isn’t near as painful as being “shot” by the person you trusted most.  And by the way, don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

Now, just to clarify, I don’t believe he has ever expected me to feel sorry for him.

Anyway, for some reason I found myself thinking back on this today.  And I found myself wondering – is his self-inflicted wound just as painful for him as my “innocent bystander” wound is for me?

Maybe I have more clarity today…or maybe I’m going crazy today, but I’m actually considering the possibility of his self-inflicted wound being worse (at least to a degree).  I’m not trying to make light of our pain as BS’s – please hear me on this.  I know we are struggling daily.  I know we hurt daily.  But, consider for a moment the other side.  Consider doing something you KNOW is wrong, but for a season of time do it anyway because now your selfish desires are all that matter.  In a sense they have taken over.  Then the guilt begins to eat away, the walls to the fantasy life begin to crumble and at the same time the walls to real life begin to crumble.  You’re stuck in between two crumbling worlds.  And the kicker is you know you did this.  You know you’re the reason.  What is wrong with you that you can’t make either world function?  And yet you also know you could have prevented this mess that is now your life.  Yet, your selfish desires were all that mattered.  Then the devastation takes hold of your spouse and all you can do is watch – knowing again, you caused this.

I don’t pretend to know the mind of a WS…or even of a former WS, but I can’t help but think that for those who are trying to rebuild their marriages perhaps the self-inflicted wound is just as difficult (if not more so) to heal from.  Perhaps they see the many times they could have said “no” replay in their minds.  Perhaps the thoughts of “I could have prevented this if only…..” invade their minds as quickly and as often as the triggers invade ours.

Is that their “punishment”?  Is that the justice for their sins against us?  I don’t know.  And again, I’m not making light of our pain because I know we are all struggling deeply, but for some reason I find myself considering the pain of the other side today.

~RH

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Katy Whorry

Did anyone see the Grammy's last night on TV?? Katy Perry (or Katy Whorry as my sister calls her) sang the most touching song called 'by the grace of God'. It was a tribute to women who have suffered from domestic abuse. Does infidelity count as domestic abuse!? This song was beautiful and spoke words I could speak myself....if only I had written them down sooner and sold them to a songwriter who sold them to Katy Perry. Dang it....anyway....I haven't been physically or verbally abused by this man.  But I have been beat to the ground....deep, deep, hell depth ground....and by the grace of God, I am still breathing....still breathing, which means there is hope....because I am not dead. I. Am. Not. Dead. By the grace of God....

P.s. Adultery should count as domestic abuse. It really should. Just saying.

New Ear

Met with a new counselor today.

And I left HOPEFUL!

This is a huge step for me. H.u.g.e. She is not fluff and psychobabble but straight forward and blunt and I am so thankful....and I get to work on ME.....not being a better wife, or a better mom, or a better Christian......but ME. Me, for a change. And it is not selfish.....wow....

Thankful <3

good? Ever??

I am the blow it. He is the good one. I am the one who always seems to screw things up. He is the one who makes even his worst enemy his best friend. How did we get here? I am so confused. If HE could do this, there is NO good in this world. None. He was the good one. I was the blow it.

Thanks Miss Maida

Sweet Maida...a regular customer at my job. She came in today and came to my window. After we were done with business, she handed me her change back and said God told me you need to count this back to me again so people think you are working. I laughed. She always makes me laugh. But then she got serious, tears in her eyes and embarrassed assured me she never does this but she was sure God wanted her to tell me that what I have been struggling with, worrying about, hurting over.....well He is going to take care of it. Stop worrying.

I don't remember her exact words and to be honest I don't really believe this kind of thing happens. But..,,,it could right? No one at work, much less customers, know a single thing about my life. Anyway, I appreciated the big ol God hug even if all it was, was a reminder to keep my faith in Him.