Nurse Ratchet go to hell

Sick twisted me took myself to a movie this afternoon. Can you guess which one?? The Other freaking Woman. It was funny. It was pathetically sad. The airhead oblivious naive stupid wife? Yep,just like a caricature of me-except the part where she becomes a successful business woman in the end...I'll be the crazy freeway underpass lady.
Oh and did I mention while I was escaping for 5 friggin minutes the world fell apart MORE than it already was?? Family talking to family. Family angry texting my husband. Yes the only people I can confide in. Yes the husband who doesn't want me. Yes I am so alone. So pathetically alone....all made more freaking clear while I was in a movie trying to escape what is already unescapable....
Anyone have a hole in a rock I can rent cheap??
And by the way, namedeletedtoprotectinnocentsNOT-HER.is.a.whore was more like nurse ratchet than freaking Cameron Diaz. I hate her.

Party by the pool....

Self destruct much?? I may be having a nervous breakdown. I am a mess. My kids (grown up, yes, but still my babies) know everything. More details than I wanted to even remember. Before they knew, I thought I was thankful they were grown and not little ones having to deal with this. But since they are grown, they have grown up questions. And now they have grown up answers.
What does a nervous breakdown look like?? I may be having one.

Slowest of the herd

'Slowest moving of the herd' describes her perfectly. She was nothing special. She wasn't anything better than me. She was convenient and just as broken as him. And yes I still think she is a FUSTC (fucking, ugly, stanky cunt....pronounced fus-tee-see...it's a noun. Or an adjective. Whatever.) but I L.O.V.E. this description of her. Or how about this one-'symptom-like the bloody cough from tuberculosis.' She hasn't killed us. If we are truly dead, my husband's brokenness killed us. Not FUSTC or me.....and unlike her, pathetic, sorry ass, I have no shame. I have no guilt. Uggg just hate...

Swimming in a pile....

Everyday I need to find the pony in the pile of horse shit piled on top of me. -a quote from a blog I love (Betrayed Wive's Club). His choices will not define me. He cheated on me-which was entirely about him and nothing about me.  I am not a victim. I am a survivor under a pile of horse shit. Living well is the best revenge. Lord, help me live (truly live) again.

Dear Fucktard,

You told me you didn't love me anymore. Then you told me you couldn't just let go of me because you loved me thru the whole dirty, nasty, disgusting, life sucking affair.
You told me you were sorry and would spend the rest of your life working to fix what you had done, with bone deep commitment to me and our marriage. Six months in? You moved out and can't understand why I won't give you kudos for how hard you've worked the last six months.
You let me leave my family, friends, church, home, MY LIFE knowing full well your dick was elsewhere.....and after I gave up everything, except you of course, losing myself in the process, you complain that I have no life outside of you. Cheers. This one's for you Fucktard.

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love

And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere, I would have followed you
Oh-oh-oh-oh say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something

Read more: A Great Big World - Say Something Lyrics | MetroLyrics 

Ah, you won't have anything worthwhile to say anyway.

I am great

It freaking hurts, just to be, much less anything else. I hear his oh so confident, 'I'm doing great without you' voice and I want to throw up. I want that voice. I should be the one with that voice-making his stomach hurt, making his heart break, making him want to scream 'I miss you. I love you. What happened to my life?',  making him remember and realize what he is throwing away....I am great. Really. I am beautiful, in my own sort of way. I am hilarious-well sometimes. I am the best kisser in the planet. I am a moderately good cook. I willingly crash on mountain bikes just to be with you.   I can hold my liquor and cuss like a sailor when need be. I am kind-more kind than the average person If you ask me, with the biggest, most giant, soft heart. I am loyal to the death like a dang puppy. I am nobody's garbage. I am a survivor not his dang victim. I can stand on my own......at least I can pretend I can...when inside it freaking hurts, just to be, much less anything else.

Rolo's

Yesterday a tattoo. Tonight sangria and peanut butter pretzels for dinner. Got to get this crap together. I need to find myself- ahahahaha so cliche. But that's basically what my counsellor said today. Who am I? What am I passionate about? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm........I am passionate about not going bat shit crazy. I am passionate about stopping this freaking hurt. Lord help me, I am passionate about sangria and peanut butter pretzels. Okay maybe rolo's. I could be passionate about rolo's. Damn it.