Ok Slack Ass...

"Sometimes goodbye is a second chance..."

September? Really? I can't believe I've gone so long between posts...

So much has happened since then. Mostly the divorce is continuing right along - with a few bumps in the road. I've finally grown my own set of balls and started standing up against someone...he doesn't particularly care for that. And he has lived up to his name of Fucktard on more than one occasion.

I had my first holiday without the kids back at Thanksgiving...boy that was tough. Way tougher than I would have imagined. For the most part both of them are chugging along as if this has been their whole existance. The three of us are now living at my mom's in the hopes I would have my own place after the first of the year. Then I lost my job. So we're here a little longer than I planned.

I'm ready for someone to stop throwing me curve balls already. I've just about had enough "lessons learned" chunked in my face. The latest just last week, when a friend took his own life and the life of his estranged wife. Sometimes I wonder how I wind up in the middle of shit like this. But mom made a great point the other day - maybe this is someone's way of showing me what can happen - or what I should be on guard for. I lost my job - and I'm hoping that opens up new opportunities that I'm yet to find. I lost Rob - and I'm hoping his death has taught me how truly fragile and tragic life can be.

On a lighter note - 6 months down - 6 more till I'm officially a divorced woman! :)

Love to everyone. I'm hoping the next post will be more humorous and less dark.

Healing. Laughing. Loving.

"Who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?"

I don't think I've ever had a positive post - so here goes. I had the absolute time of my life last weekend with some very special people. I've not laughed that long in forever - and I've most certainly not had that much fun in, well, I honestly can't remember. Laughter and friendship seem to be the two strongest allies to me right now - and I'm very grateful to have friends and family that provide both. None of you will ever know how much that means to me right now.

10 Fucking Years...

"If i'm not the one thing you can't stand to lose,
If i'm not that arrow to the heart of you
If you don't get drunk on my kiss,
If you think you can do better than this then i guess we're done"

Forgive me blogger, for I have sinned. It has been a long assed time since my last confession, err..blog.

So much has happened these past few weeks, I'm not even really sure where I should start...

I guess the biggest "milestone" was the passing of what would have been our 10th anniversary. It was really surreal. And almost tragic. It was like I had worked all those years to get to that big milestone, for what? Not a fucking thing.

Ok, I take that back - my two kids. They are the only reason I have any fondness left of what used to be my marriage. The Sunday before "A" day (Thurs, Aug 12th), I was hurting. I remember I was on my way back home from mom's, when somewhere in Troutman, the song we danced to for our first dance as man and wife came on. I had already been dreading that week - wondering if I was supposed to mourn our anniversary, or just simply see it as another day that had come and gone. Once that song came on, I fucking lost it. I mean, full on, screaming, sobbing, can't see the road in front of me, breakdown. But you know what? Thursday came and went with no tears from me.

No remorse. No looking back at those past 10 years. The "new" Amy is looking forward to the next 10 years...and whatever they might bring. No wondering "what if"? He made the decision to betray our family...and I can't sit around and try to make sense of it. I have to move forward. I have to be strong for my kids. I must continue to live my life for me and them. I'm no longer a wife. I don't see myself as married any longer - I see Amy, and I really like who she's become. She's a fighter. She's a mother. She's a friend, confidant, bitch and all round kick ass chick. Sometimes I wish I could wind back the clock and have found Amy a lot sooner...I guess she's been hiding all these years, but now's her time to shine.

I also want to quickly thank everyone that has been with me through all of this. You will never know how much your support, words of encouragement and willingness to listen have meant. I love you all dearly.

You REALLY think so? Really?

"Love can be a tragedy when you do what you did to me
All I’m seeing now is red"

Fucktard:

The "Dearest" is done. You're no longer a little bit of a dear, you're just Fucktard. A big, hairy, piece of shit, Fucktard.

Since I need to calm down before my attorney calls me back today, I thought I'd respond to your email on here and let her tell me how to nicely respond to you in real life.

1. You DON'T have custody of the kids. I do. So if and when one needs to go to the doctor, I will take them and I DON'T have to have your permission. Fuck you. You think you don't have to pay dr bills just because I didn't call you first, think again. Push me asshole, and that will be SOLE legal custody to Amy.

2. Concerning the house - I really don't need your decision by tomorrow cause I'm done playing with you. Fuck the agreement, we'll just go to court. And guess what?! Your name is as much on the mortgage and deed as is mine, and until I refinance the house out of your name, you're legally responsible for paying your share. Don't pay it? I'll take Suntrust the keys and tell them they can have the damn thing. See if they let you get out your prized Star Wars shit. You really think I'm going to let you have both computers? Um, no. You want the skillet? Upside your fucking head. And I will be giving no one a lump sum for anything, especially your stupid ass. You want half the profit - fine. I'll take alimony. Thinking I'll get out better in the end there anyways. The rest of your stuff will be put in storage when I have time. You should have put it out there when you moved out. Fuck you.

3. So what if you have "previously requested access to the house" to supervise the removal of your stuff. I haven't removed anything, and even if I had, you best be glad it didn't wind up in the Mecklenburg County landfill.

4. Did you seriously just ask me to push out child support as long as we can? NO. Actually, FUCK NO. My lawyer has her retainer, and I'm guessing a court date can be just right around the corner.

5. Last time I checked the dogs are your responsibility too - and if I need to board them because you can't keep them at your house, then you pay half. And no, it's like child support, you don't pay, you don't visit, so you will not be taking them to the park. I hope one of them bites you. Hard.

6. Where I go on vacation is none of your concern, and if I want to take the kids to fucking Africa, guess what?! I can. All I have to do is make sure I tell you - and guess what? I did. "The kids need to remain in the state of NC". Fuck you again. I'll tell A that she can't go to the beach because her father is a peckerhead.

7. The alleged herpes thing. I never told you I was infected, and no, I will not be retested. I'll send you the sheet from my doctor, and I'll make sure he puts a special note on there just for you so that your idiot ass can understand - I am NOT positive for anything, so how bout fucking off with the whole Amy cheated too shit.

8. Things can no longer be "simple" because you're a fuckhead. And "right now you're not doing best for anyone, not even yourself for down the road" is just plain stupid. You just said "Please don't fuck me Amy, I don't have the cash for an attorney." Um, sorry. Bend over...

9. The bank account - yes, I've been "poking" around in it. Meaning, my name is still on the account, I can look at it all fucking day long if I want. I've not taken any money out of it, only looked at it. Change the password dipshit if you don't want me "poking".

10. No, you're not waiting my response any longer - you're waiting my attorney's. She's a a bitch too - maybe you can keep your dick in your pants when she starts getting "pissy" with you.

Fuck you.

Amy

If I don't punch you in the balls before this is over...

"I pray your brakes go out runnin’ down a hill
I pray a flower pot falls from a window sill
And knocks you in the head like I’d like to"

Dear Fucktard,

Notice the name change? Shithead isn't quite the way I'd describe you these days. Besides, my girls of the round table say you need to be Fucktard, and so you shall. Fucktard.

Time to put on your big girl panties - I really really really dislike you. No, I think I quite hate you right about now. I know a few weeks ago I was fighting that urge - NO MORE! Hate is quite a motivator too. Motivating me to bag up all that shit you didn't get out of my house and dump on the lawn. Motivating me to stop being run over by you and balls up to your stupid face. Motivating me to put you the hell out of my life. You don't deserve me. You don't deserve my tears. And you most certainly don't deserve that knowing what you say will upset me. Cause you know why? I don't really give three shits anymore.

Talk your shit. Go ahead - please! Hear that? That's the sound of my attorney's tab getting higher and higher, which only means that much less out of your pocket. Maybe I should put a ticker up on the site - every time you do something stupid, there goes another $250/hr to my attorney. And believe me when I say this, but you WILL be paying me back every cent.

Perhaps you should stop paying the counselor her hourly rate, and start saving money for Amy's legal fees. I'll even paint you a piggy bank and put your new name on it.

Fucktard.

With much love, I mean, HATE,

Amy

Undo it.

"You had my heart, now I want it back
I'm starting to see everything you lack
Boy you blew it, you put me through it
I wanna uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-undo it"

Dearest Shithead -

Oh fucking wah. So what - I deleted you from Facebook. Typically you only "friend" those you like. And guess what? I don't like you.

Here's a definition for you since you love Wikipedia so much - "Thursday is the fourth day of the week according to the ISO 8601 international standard adopted in most western countries.It falls between Wednesday and Friday. The name is derived from Old English Þūnresdæg and Middle English Thuresday, which means "Thunor's day". That would be the day your sorry ass needs to have your shit packed and out of my house. Not Friday, not Monday. Thursday. Four days from today. Thursday.

Got it? Thursday.

Oh and as a response to your nasty little email I got Friday night - I can think for myself. Imagine that. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're a fucktard. I don't need a group of people holding my hand for that. But, since you think I have lots of little voices telling me what to do, I'd like to introduce them to you. They're called friends. Cousins. Aunts. Mother. Father. Complete strangers. Mother-in-law. Father-in-law (that one will chap your hide for sure). And they have formed my own web of support. Not one has "pumped stuff in my ear" as you like to say. They're all here to listen to me cry, bitch and rage against you. I'm sorry if your support group is perhaps, missing. But you've done that to yourself.

Oh and in case you've missed it, tomorrow will be exactly one month since I left your pathetic excuse of an existence. That's 29 days, 696 hours, or 41,760 minutes you've been without me. One month down - 11 more to go. And you know what? I. Can't. Wait.

Bitch

"It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?"

Jennifer Jones
Warner Robins, GA
jennyjo7272@gmail.com
and once i get your phone number, it'll be posted here

Dearest Cunthole,

I've previously introduced myself via email, but seeing as you're apparently hiding in some hole and can't grow balls enough to face me, I thought I'd send you a very special shout out through my blog.

Fuck you, you stupid, piece of shit, whore.

I'm thinking that your previous husbands, Rhett and Chris (the internet these days...you can pay to find almost anything out) are probably saying the same things about you. I'd like to see what their opinions of you are, and whether or not they left you any assets. If so, go ahead and make the check out to me.

It's funny, everyone says I shouldn't blame you. Guess deep inside, a part of me pities you. I mean, the only man you can find is married and has two kids - quite a catch there, don't you think? He's gonna be even more of one once he has to start paying alimony. No time or money for poor poor Jennifer.

I think those that read my blog should know what you look like. I mean, what kind of trash would willingly "fall in love" with another woman's husband? So I've decided I'll give them what they want, and post your picture along with this. Can't wait to read their reactions.

If you still want him, honey, he's all your's. Hope some day he'll do you the same favor he did me. You deserve it.

Amy



Isn't she hot?

Sometimes a girl just needs a little rage...

"I wanna smash the faces of those beautiful boys
Those christian boys
So you can made me cum
That doesn't make you Jesus"

I couldn't decide this morning between Tori Amos or Limp Biscuit for my lyrics, but Ms Tori won out. She always has such an elegant way of putting things into perspective. I heart Tori.

Dear Shithead seemed to be a hit, so I'm hoping to reprise that segment on a weekly basis. I'm thinking it may even have a counterpart called Dear Cunthole directed towards the "other woman". Oh, I have some fun building up inside for her. :)

Everyone has been asking me how I'm doing. I'm not sure. Some days I seem invincible. Some days, I cry like a baby (those are getting fewer). The other day in Target, I had a mini panic attack in the middle of the shoe aisle - completely out of nowhere. It was like someone smacked me over the head and said, "He fucked another woman." I'm not sure how else to explain what happened, but it was almost like I had let myself forget for a few moments what has been happening. Reality, that bitch, decided that I needed a wake up call in the shoe aisle. Wondering if she visits D.

He's moving out July 1st. It can't come soon enough. Fucked up part of that whole deal is that he'll be just down the street. At first I thought that could be a good thing - he can come over and mow grass, take the kids to the park, or whatever. But knowing that he's literally just down the street makes me somewhat anxious. Hope he doesn't think he can keep tabs on me. Hell to the no.

Eff you.

“Did you forget about me, Mr. Duplicity?”

Dear Shithead –

Please stop emailing me that you need to get dog food – I don’t care. Oh, and the dogs told me that they think you suck too.

Do you really think I’d like to eat the pasta you made and left in the frig? You’re no longer on my life insurance policy, so poisoning me isn’t going to work. You won’t see a dime.

And while you’re at it, I don’t really care that your blood pressure is high – perhaps, your extracurricular activities can help alleviate that issue. I’ve always heard that strenuous exercise is good for the heart. OH, that’s right, you don’t have one.

Please stop emailing me to tell me that you’re looking at places – just get one and move the fuck already. Your two weeks is rapidly depleting. I'm pretty sure the bill from my attorney to force you out will cost you more than just moving in with some random jack off down the street.

And please, no more heartfelt mamby pamby I want you back shit – guess what? I don’t want you back.

Sincerely.
You can just call me bitch or ex. Either work for me.

Pain.

"Truth be told I miss you
Truth be told I'm lying

When you see my face
I hope it gives you hell, I hope it gives you hell"

So yesterday's counseling session was as predicted - hell. I had gotten myself so worked up during the day that I made myself physically ill. When I got to the counselor's office, he wasn't there so the two of us discussed a few things while we waited on him. As soon as she said "He's here" my stomach fell. I couldn't look at him. I most certainly wasn't going to be able to speak to him. We did lay everything out, and I really didn't get any more answers than what I went in with, except that he was hoping we could work it out. Um, no thanks, let's move on. By the end of the session, I had yelled. He cussed. Nothing accomplished but me hurting and hating more. The counselor did flat out tell him that he needs to move out. I think it finally sank in...and he stayed there after I left. I'm not sure for how long, or what they discussed. I couldn't take anymore of that.

I’ve asked him to be out in two weeks. I need to move on. I need closure, and I need some sort of stability. I’m not excited about living out of a suitcase any longer.

After I left the session, I decided to mend some long strained fences, so I called his mom. For those that don’t know, D and I haven’t spoken to his mom in over a year. There’s a very long, drawn out story there…anyways, I felt that I needed to tell her that we’re not together any longer. After the conversation with her, I felt surprisingly calm, and almost relieved. I like where we left it.

Another day

"I know there are no guarantees
In love you take your chances
But somehow it seems unfair to me
Look at the circumstances"

Last night was rough. I had a decent day yesterday - I felt like I could actually make it through all of this, but then came counseling. I get the fact that sometimes you need to reopen the wound for it to heal - but it fucking hurts. When I got back to the hotel after my session, I went to soak in the hot tub. It was relaxing for a minute, but my mind wouldn't stop racing. It was like I rehashed the last six years in the matter of an hour and a half, and I was mentally exhausted. Talking about it makes you realize all of the little signs and clues that maybe something wasn't perfect in our "happy" home. But that does nothing to excuse his shitty decision making. We go back tonight, together - I'm a ball of nerves just thinking about having to be in the same room with him. I don't want to look at him. I don't want to speak to him. I don't want him to see me vulnerable. I've told the counselor I don't want to discuss reconciliation - I want her to help us work out how we can be apart and what that entails. I want him to answer certain questions and quit making excuses. I agreed to go with him, because I want her to tell him that I'm done. I can say it till I'm blue in the face, but somehow, I don't think he gets it.

The quotes at the top of the posts are lyrics in songs that I'm finding really fit my mood. I'm finding that music is a release, and I've been listening to a lot of songs that I may have never stumbled across in the past, but seem to fit perfectly now. Screaming along with Godsmack's "I Fucking Hate You" has helped release quite a bit of pent up frustration that might otherwise be redirected towards his balls. Or face.

Finally ready to talk...

"Through sickness and health 'till death do us part
Those were the words that we said from our hearts
So now when you say that you're leaving me
I don't get that part"

Last Tuesday my world crumbled in around me. In the five minutes I took to search through a cell phone, the life I knew changed forever.

He had an affair. Not a one time deal either - a fucking one year relationship with another woman.

She said she loved him. He said it too, but said they were just words.

Bullshit.

I've asked myself so many questions since last week - and none have any answers that make sense to me. I can ask myself "why" day and night, and I'm still nowhere near understanding this craziness. I have cried. Cried so hard I thought I was going to puke. I have screamed. Screamed at the loss of my promises and dreams. I've entered into a world of unknowns because of the two of them. My head is full of words like, equitable distribution and criminal conversation. I never imagined someone could hurt me so badly and so completely.

Sitting at the doctor's office signing an HIV consent form to be tested was sobering - and angering. I've loved this man for almost 13 years and that's been reduced to an STD panel and a separation agreement. I can't begin to imagine what my life will be without him - but I know I can't and won't be put through this again. He has taken something so sacred and manipulated it into something vile and full of hate. I told him that I hate him. I have never told anyone that. I'm not sure that I truly do - because if I did, it wouldn't hurt so much, right?

I wouldn't be sitting in a hotel room wondering where I'll be in six months if he hadn't done this. He has destroyed my faith in him. In men. In marriage. In love.

I met with my counselor for the first time this evening. She tried to explain why men behave this way...I don't get that. Why the fuck do men get a free pass when it comes to their dicks? I understand where she's coming from - she's paid to save marriages. I'm paying her so that I can stay sane. I don't want to make up. I don't want him in my house and especially not in our bed. I'm paying her to talk me off my ledge - the ledge where I drive my ass to Georgia and kick the shit out of the bitch that broke up my marriage. I'm sorry - helped break up my marriage - let's not forget there's another key factor in that equation.

I'm tired of crying myself to sleep. I'm tired of feeling sick every time I eat something. I want peace. I want respect. I want normalcy.