the unknown.

First of all, I’d like to give a shout out to my friend Jamie. I called her and unloaded all this crap on her this morning. Her first question: “ok, do you have xanax?” No. But I will be getting some. Her last question: “why don’t you blog all of this?” So thanks, Spanks, (her nickname…Spanky) for your advice…

The ex has had a baby with his girlfriend, now fiance…Cried when the baby was born (out of sadness, not joy) and cried when I heard they got engaged. (Thanks, Jamie for softening the blow for me) That lasted about 2 days then I was over it. I am sure when the big day comes, I’ll either be:

a. doped up on xanax and sleeping

b. drunk.

c. at a spa

d. with my girlfriends (hopefully c and d)

Fast forward to the unknown…

My kids are making their first communion on Sunday…(we have twins)

One pew. One family. Me, him, kids…I asked my parents to sit someplace else so it wouldn’t be awkward. My parents hate my ex for what happened. Rightfully so.  Did I mention my dad is still paying for our wedding? I digress..

I shared with my ex that we have one pew for the kids’ family. He and I need to sit with the kids, go up with them as they receive communion, etc. I kindly asked him to have whoever is coming with him to sit someplace else. The seating arrangements could look something like this:

Me, kid, kid, ex, my mom, my dad, his whore

Me, kid, kid, ex, my dad, my mom, his whore

Him, kid, kid, me, my mom, my dad, his whore

Him, kid, kid, me, my dad, my mom, his whore.

 

Anyone see a pattern here? Has he answered my request? No. I told him that I wish we could sit on opposite sides of the church but that can’t happen. “I’m sure we can”, said the ex. See, he doesn’t believe in following rules that are given from other people. The letter clearly states that we are to SIT WITH OUR CHILDREN. If he chooses not to, that’s his deal. I’ll be right there with my kids.

My parents agreed to sit someplace else because they don’t want to make it awkward for anyone. Because THEY ARE SMART. He thinks everyone is ok with what he’s done.

News flash–we’re not. Still not. I wish I was. When will it go away? I read an article that I don’t need to forgive. Forgiveness is Overrated. Read it here. If he was truly sorry for his actions, then maybe. Anyway, I digress. again.

I’ve been having the craziest dreams because I have so much on my mind regarding this. I don’t want to dream of my old house (where they live, happily ever after) and them anymore.

I still don’t know where she is sitting. The unknown is killing me. Just as it has in the past. I need to “prepare for the worst, hope for the best, pop a xanax”–Jamie.

 

 

 

 

 

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what a long, strange trip its been

It truly has been.  From devastation to recovery and everything in between. It has been a wild ride. Although I am not 100% detached from my story–I don’t think I ever will be-I am able to handle things with more grace than before. That angry, hot headed scorned ex wife is no longer. A newer, better version of myself has emerged.

I still get emotional sometimes. I cried little tears yesterday when I learned that their baby is being delivered on Monday. They were not big, wailing, crocodile tears that lasted for hours. Just a few trickled down to remind me of how far I have come and how far I have yet to go. I will pay myself on the back, however, because I HAVE SURVIVED.

Those three words. I HAVE SURVIVED. I never thought in a million years that I would have survived this. I did. It did not kill me. It did kill a naïve, weak, small version of myself. Thank you for that. However, it did not kill ME. I am stronger because of it.

Thank you to those of you on here–those complete strangers who knew how I felt. Who knew what to say to me at the right time. I don’t know you personally, but what you have done for me here, I will never forget.

I HAVE SURVIVED.

 

 

What A Difference a Year Makes

I’m back.

A lot has changed in my life since my last post.  I honestly don’t even know when I was on here last. My apologies.

My divorce was official in January of 2015. The year anniversary is coming up. It may have passed. I don’t know. All I know is that time heals some pain. Pain that I was feeling during this entire ordeal is not as severe as it was at once point.

I can breathe.

I survived.

Sure it stings to know they my ex and his girlfriend are having a baby and living in my old house that I shared with him and my children.

But I survived.

I bought my own home around the corner. It’s a perfect house for the kids and me. The energy is better. It’s a happy little house.

I survived.

I can breathe.

I’ve dated here and there—I’ve learned what I want and what I don’t want. I’ve learned what I deserve. That person hasn’t come along yet. I know the universe is working on it for me. I ask, I believe and I will receive.

I still harbor some anger and hatred towards my ex and her. I am really trying to work on that this year. I am trying to be in the present moment. Meditate. Be grateful each day for what the universe has given me. I am listening to The Secret during my 20 minute drive to work and back.

Ask.

Believe.

Receive.

Breathe.

28.5

That’s how many hours I spent in my house alone so far this weekend. I finally got myself into the shower, dressed and slapped some makeup on my face that wouldn’t show how sad and lonely I am.

I found myself at Barnes and Nobles, sitting in an overstuffed chair while this woman across from me reads GARDENING IN NY. She’s humming to herself and it’s driving me absolutely crazy. There is no rhyme or reason to her humming. It does not go along with the elevator music that is coming through the speakers in the ceiling.

I look at her some more; no ring. Is she divorced? Widowed? Never been married? Why would that be one of the first things I notice? I hate that I notice those things. I wish I could rewire my brain so I wouldn’t think of those things.

One of my favorite things to do is people watch. I try to sit an visualize what their life is like. If it’s anything like mine.

I wish I could rewire my brain so that I was the complete opposite of my current self. Well actually, the only self I have known.

I want to be happy and content while being alone. But I’m not. I am a people person. I am emotional. I need to feel accepted, loved, cared for and important. I know I’m supposed to start with  accepting, loving and caring for myself. It feels a hell of a lot better when it comes from someone else.

I wish I didn’t think that way. I wish I didn’t want someone in my life. I wish I enjoyed being alone, staring at the walls in my house. (humming lady left. thank god.)

I am a typical Scorpio. Intense, emotional, always questioning, secretive, passionate and extremely loyal.

Right now in this phase of my life I hate that I am a typical scorp. I don’t want to be emotional, intense, passionate and loyal. I want to break that part away from me because it is bringing me absolutely no good.

I hate being alone.

painful

quote-William-Shatner-divorce-is-probably-as-painful-as-death-148392

Today I had to meet with my lawyer. She handed me a stack of paper and said, “here, start looking at these. I’ll be right back.”

Words. Words that I don’t understand. Legal jargon and a lot of “wife”, “husband”, “assets”, “children”, “divorce.”

My head started spinning and the tears started flowing. I don’t want to be sitting in her office, reading this shit. I don’t want to have to do this. NO. NO. This is NOT what my life was supposed to be like.

pain.

The tears keep coming and the tissues are crumpled up, soaked with my salty tears. My heart is crumpled. Crumpled and breaking.

I don’t want him back. I just can’t seem to get past the death of what my and my children’s lives were supposed to be like with this person. (I can’t call him a man. A real man wouldn’t do this)

“Divorce is probably as painful as death.”

Yep.

There is no funeral. No burial. You continue to have to see this person who you trusted with your entire soul. This person didn’t die. Although I often say that my life would be so much easier if he did.

No. This person (and his whore) are walking around, breathing the same air that I am. Living in the same craphole town that I am. They are alive and happy. Playing house with MY children. Buying MY children clothes, toys, shoes. Whatever they want.  She’s not their mother and she never will be. I can’t wait for karma to rear it’s ugly head.

For now, I am in pain. Still. I have been in pain for a very, very, very long time. Years. I don’t know when I will come out of this. I thought I was better. Lately I have just been in pain. In shock. How could someone do this to his wife and children? Why did he marry me in the first place? How can he be ok with how things are?

I had to figure out a “holiday schedule” with my lawyer today. Christmas, Thanksgiving, THEIR BIRTHDAY. I am their mother. I carried them for 7.5 months. I SHOULD NOT be away from them on their birthday, EVER. Am I wrong? I can’t imagine being away from my children on their birthday. I shouldn’t have to make a schedule like this. They shouldn’t have to alternate weekends, vacations, holidays, etc. All of this is bullshit. All because he is selfish.

Selfish.

1. devoted to or caring only for oneself; concerned primarily with one’s own interests, benefits, welfare, etc., regardless of others.

2.characterized by or manifesting concern or care only for oneself:

selfish motives.
He never thought of the kids. He never had the kids best interest in mind. If he did, we wouldn’t be in this boat. We would have fixed our marriage and life would be “normal.”
But this will never happen. NEVER. NEVER.
This is all very painful.

…. and I’m back.

In counseling.
I haven’t been here in a while. I thought I had my shit together. It’s amazing how much you need someone to help you get back on track.

My therapist is amazing.  Amazing.

I can be myself around her.  She gets me.  It’s like she’s lived inside my head and can sift through the twists and turns of my psyche. 

Amazing. 

I need to be back here.  I’m starting to fall off the “I’m strong now.  I can handle this”  wagon.

I felt a lot of rage today.  Stbex. His whore.  The problems.  The death of a vision I once had. 

It’s all sad to me again. As I am sitting here in her waiting room,  I could cry all over again. 

I need her to clean out the gunk and messed up shit that’s floating around my brain.  Heal the battle wounds,  patch up my lacerations,  give me a good dose of medicine  (aka reality check)  and send me on my way.

I’ll be back again next week.  And probably the week after that. 

And so my life goes on.  One day at a time.  But these past few days have felt like I’m walking in a battlefield and no guns are dropped.  The bullets keep flying and I have no where to go except through them.

Amazing.

one step can change everything.

I thought I was passed all of this.

I thought I had cried all my tears, forgotten about “them” and was stronger than this.

Friday was the first time that I laid eyes on “her” since the truth came out.  One foot out of a store in the mall and there she was.

one step can change everything.

I honestly didn’t think that I would react in the way I did. She didn’t see me; thank god.

Frozen.

Heart racing.

Sweaty palms.

Anger. Anger. Anger. Sadness. Sadness. Sadness.

I called one of my girlfriends (after calling stbex and bitching him out) and she talked me off the ledge.

I walked out to my car and then the tears started flowing.

Flowing like hot lava on my cold cheeks onto my cold hands, pooling in my ears as I talk on the phone.

That totally fucked me up.

The kids were with him this weekend.

I was ALONE. Sick and alone.

Lonely. Alone. Solo.

No one to take care of me while I was sick. No one to rot on the couch with.

The kids came back tonight at 6.

Come to find out “she” spent the whole weekend with them.

Painting pumpkins, making cookies, doing FAMILY things.

That’s MY family.

She was NOT part of this plan. This is not how my life was supposed to be.

This is NOT how the kids lives were supposed to go.

After I learned that she was there this weekend, (according to lawyers and law guardian, she’s not supposed to be there when the kids are until they are interviewed by the law guardian) the tears started flowing again.

Hot lava on my cold cheeks, hands, ears. Burning and stinging like salt on an open wound.

It wouldn’t stop.

All the emotions came back and I couldn’t stop them. The dam had unleashed it’s fury of anger, sadness, depression, tears into my once calm state.

Why does this still hurt? How can I still be sad about this? I don’t want him. I am sad over the death of the vision that I had for our family. I was the one who should be painting pumpkins and making cookies with my family. NOT her.

Run away. Run away as fast as I can. That’s my next thought.

What I want for my kids is not here. It’s home. Family, friends, memories.

Yes their father and his whore are here, but this is not what I want for my children. I want tradition. Family and friends. Holidays together. Lazy summers together.

I don’t get that here. I won’t have that here.

one step can change everything.