Today, March 13, 2018, is my 25th Wedding Anniversary.
messages. Ahh- yes, I hear you, I received your message. So aggressive. So passive. Just say it why don’t you? To ME.
Either way, the pain is the same for all of us, it doesn’t matter when or how, it’s just the same.
The fact that “she” tried to be my best friend; that is what sickens me, Oh, I’ll bring it down: She makes me. sick. Why would you want to be my friend? Why would you cry to me and tell me some embarrassing, details? Why would I care you had hemorrhoids and thought it was cancer? Oh, I was supposed to tell my H, you thought he would rush to your bedside and beg your return.
You tried that ruse with our salesman, remember, the one you were doing before you were doing my H? Yeah.
Funny, (funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar, my H would say) Funny that once I sent you a text I’d love a heart to heart you disappeared, out into construction supply vendor world. Hmmmm, You went over the top, trying to chase away my suspicion on your past with my H.
Anyway, for you and my dear readers, the passive-aggressive ones; Eff you too- I tell no lies, I write only truth.
Big Effing deal.
It still feels the same.
How bout giving me a like or comment? Many views; no response I’d love a comment or so. Don’t be shy folks. By the way I hate the word folks
All my life, up until my late 40’s, all I ever wanted to be was a mom. I prayed, begged, insisted, to be a mom. I am oh-so-fricken glad that I got that desire. Honestly, since I could remember it is all I ever wanted.
From the time my darlings were conceived until now, quite recently, I gladly gave everything up so that I could be a stay at home mom. Would I do it again? Would I repeat every step I’ve taken? Hell, effing ya!
I laugh when I share how I loved to grocery shop because it’s the only time I could spend money (without guilt). Would I do it again? Hell, effing ya!
I loved every single day of being home with my girls. I cherished every moment, lonely moment of the day; feeling stressed, depressed, And alone. Why? I was bound to my place of residence, raising the girls. It’s all I ever wanted, my dream, it came true. Would I do it again? Hell, effing ya!
I NEVER felt gypped, underappreciated or lesser than the working moms in my community, who “made money, or helped contribute, to the household income.”
Bull shit, Yes, Bull shit, I say.
I contributed to the household. I helped save money, and I refused to shell out money to daycare, babysitters, or even the new word (in my town) “nanny.” So, I did help to run the household. I kept from spending money.
When my first started Kindergarten, I would stand in the “mom circle” and listen to the mommy’s talk about how they “could never be just a mom, stay home and do nothing all day, watching the kids”. WTF? Just do nothing all day? Are you fricken serious? Who does NOTHING, when watching kids? SMH
I would never change my past, never. In fact, I would do this all over again. Just so that I could spend days reading, cooking Mac n Cheese, visiting libraries, traveling to see gma, (Even Mother-in-law gma) and all that other “crap”, that the “lazy, do nothing mom’s” do, when we stay at home with our children. OUR CHILDREN. I would do it again. Hell, effing ya!
I would lose my H, for this very reason.
Hell, effing ya!
What triggered this post, you might ask? Why kids, why now?
Some would say that I lost myself. I lost myself in raising children. While my poor H worked his azz off, I let myself go. ]
I always made sure to look my best, be my best, present my best for when H returned home, after a hard days work. I’m proud of that. I did, I tried.
He… HE… HE IS the one who decided to take the path he took. I am clean, I am good, it is I who followed the “script”.
No, I detested him long before he cheated and wandered. I detested him long before he made the choices he made.
He tried, he was crazy about me, it is I who thought he should change. It is I who thought he should be someone he could/would never be. Does it excuse his choices? Well, of course… Hell effing NO!
There is this point that a WS comes to where he/she truly believes they have been gypped, cheated, shunned; they deserve so much more than this spouse who doesn’t worship them.
From there, the cheating begins. From there, the self-indulgence begins. In the long run…. it’s the child who was taught to believe they are the “golden-child” that is the cheater.
Compare notes, I think I’m right.
Love to all,
The last time I posted I was sharing about that special person I brought along “with” me to the vacation home my H and I share. My H was with me; my special person was not. If you’re not catching my drift, this person would have been on my side, looking out FOR me.
(We) Found nothing, as she stated, however, it was her thought he must have known, he seemed to be acting peculiarly. While outside, working he OFTEN glanced at her home.
If you remember, he sent me on the last minute, random run for him, which is not anything new.
Before I would willingly run that errand, feeling safe(er) that way, little did I know that it was the “woman” that lived in a house behind our house that he was, uh- err- banging.
She was one of two, which probably really means one of more, surely there must be some I have no idea exist.
So, that’s what we have for now…. NOTHING.
Love to all – check in with me, how are my readers doing?
The reason of my title.
You know the saying:” Never say Never”
Pretty much, I’ve always believed those words; that advice. I’m pretty open minded. I’ve also throughout my life believed that “what goes around comes (back) around.
Patiently wait and you will see why, at least in MY experience.
He sent me to town for an errand; he couldn’t go because he was burning brush. HER H just left for work.
During the time I was waiting for my visitor to be available, I slowly got ready to run his errand for him. I believe her H came back to the house.
Disclaimer: since I’ve been watching for a year plus, probably more like two years, I’ve been able to “memorize” the schedules and the habits, excuses, reasons, of the two, desperate in love. (scratch) horny for, lovers, or whatever the hell they call one another.
So, I leave, I *think* her H comes home, and my friend, who is quite good at what she does, takes a walk, befriends, my elderly neighbor, and sits on his deck, watching the happenings of my home and hers.
I receive text updates; your H is working, your H is moving toward the back, your H keeps looking at that house. The door opens, the dog escapes Ithat house) nothing, nothing, nothing. H continues to watch. H keeps watching. H, looks busy but doing nothing.
She tells me to lay low, wait a few weeks; she thinks he’s suspicious (that word tickles me, makes me LOL)
She then informs me ( this is why I’ve grown to love this girl) that my elderly neighbor, who so kindly let her sit on his deck, need groceries.
“I am going to wait until you return, and bring him to buy some supplies.”
Just effing WOW. What a heart!
Growing up, all I EVER wanted to be was a mom. Sure, Teacher, Nurse, Private Investigator, fell in there as was usual for my age group, but the bottom line. Mom.
I always imagined myself in a station wagon, driving my kids to school, picking them up after school, and on my feet were fuzzy slippers. Funny thing about this image, my mother NEVER drove us to school, it was riding the bus, and if you were running late and missed it, she – was – pissed. And a pissed mom was something that was NOT GOOD.
I read a lot growing up, still try to busyness keeps that from happening, because of that, I believe, I am a dramatic person. BIG TIME. So, along with imagining myself in fuzzy slippers, driving my many children to school, ( I wanted five) I imagined a very troubled, even violent, life. Hard, Danielle Steel, book difficult life. You know, when I lead a troubled life and finally at the end, my knight in shining armor saves me.
So, when I became a mom, I was determined to be the best mom ever. We lost our first, stillborn, fully mature, perfect looking son; only, he didn’t draw one breath outside my womb. So, in addition to the intense desire to be the perfect parent, I was paranoid. If God was going to take my first child, what would keep him from me developing a closer bond with my second child, and then taking her?
I lived my life this way, for many years. It’s not such a good thing when you are married to a person who must have full attention, always, even if he/she that person is a completely, grown, adult.
Even speaking with the current therapist, counselors, psychologist, and psychiatrist; you will be told, MAKE TIME FOR YOURSELVES AS COUPLES. Children grow, move, get married and start families of their own.
I was different; my H loves me, understands me, he would NEVER cheat on me, again: HE WOULD NEVER CHEAT ON ME. He brags about me, how beautiful I am, what a good woman I am, I put up with this, I put up with that…. blah blah blah, yada yada yada, read every single other blog about being betrayed, and you will read:
“Who me, betrayed. Who him a Wanderer? NEVER!”
My H began to drink (more) I began to hate (more) I began to spend every single moment, self-righteously with my children; after all, if he were a good dad, he would too. Thus, self-righteous.
Of course, what else would happen? A desperate, lonely, few times married, or insecure, single woman, she is going to recognize an “ignored, lonely, married to a cold-hearted woman and in a sexless marriage” man. None of which is true. I mean, sure, we married folk have life that interrupts crazy, out of control, over the top sex. But, given the chance, we can give it. Given the effing chance.
Nothing. There was a weird moment where she thought he was on to her.
We have two more days.